The very start of the overlong “SNL 40th Anniversary” special Sunday night — a corny duet between Jimmy Fallon and Justin Timberlake, as they spit out four decades of catchphrases that wore out their welcome about the 20th time a co-worker spouted them a generation ago (“Never mind!”) — was a quick reminder of all the bad side effects of having a generally reliable weekly satiric show all this time.
So many cast members, so many hosts, so many musical guests. How could they fit into three and a half hours? (Four and a half, if you count the one hour red carpet special — and what non-awards show variety special has ever had its own red carpet special?). “You leave them out,” said both Steve Martin in the opening monologue and show creator Lorne Michaels on the red carpet.
When it comes to writing history of “SNL,” certain stars are always featured, and some are never mentioned. The first cast was the basis of the whole show and it was surprising, seeing the very first show, rerun Saturday, how much of it was already in place: The setting, Weekend Update, the fake commercials, the little films, the hipper than usual musical acts. Chevy Chase was the central star of the cast that first season and he was treated pretty poorly in the special; made to look older than he is, shot to show his girth. It’s as if people are still mad at him for being the first to do the cardinal sin: Leaving the show to chase a lucrative movie career.
They made a big deal out of the 40th, I figured out, because NBC needs the February sweeps numbers, but also because a lot of the first cast won’t be around for the 50th anniversary (which will be what? five hours?). When Dan Ackroyd did his Bass-o-matic ad, pretty much as he did the first time, with Laraine Newman, I thought: Right, they’ll be redoing their old skits today, just as the aging Monty Python does on stage from time to time. But no, that was the only one.
Others were adapted to accommodate the large number of stars. “Jeopardy” of course, that cavalcade of celebrity impersonations, but also, oddly, “The Californians,” a skit I generally like more than most people, but which was gerrymandered to include a not quite fitting Newman (looking like Stevie Nicks but not quite nailing the California accent, though another clip showed she’d originated it on the show), Bradley Cooper, Kerry Washington, Betty White and Taylor Swift for god’s sake.
Aside from being a tribute, the “SNL 40th” was also a little like a regular episode these days: Pandering to the kids while playing to the traditions. The first shot of the invited audience to studio 8H was a bit jarring in this regard: not only tuxedos but all the white hair, too. They put a joke in there about that: Melissa McCarthy crashing the big opening of Martin, Tom Hanks and Alec Baldwin, saying “What about hosts who aren’t men over 80?”
It’s boomer crack to put a Beatle on the show, even though, sadly, McCartney couldn’t hit the notes of “Maybe I’m Amazed” in his showcase and Paul Simon’s “Still Crazy After All These Years” was as obvious as it was energy sapping at the end (he at least had adjusted the key to accommodate the effects of time).
Simon was a friend of the show from the start, and maybe Michaels’ closest friend, so he had two songs on the show, the other done by Miley Cyrus, who if nothing else has been a good sport about the show (an impression of her was the basis of Vanessa Bayer’s audition tape, we learned, as well as a character she has returned to over and over through her stint). But why perform “50 Ways of Leave Your Lover” without its author, for even a verse, if he’s already there?
Kanye West was the musical performer who really didn’t fit in; even flanked by Sia (whose wig was poked by Zach Galifianakis in his momentary appearance later). He represented all the outré musical performances over the years, all the oddball ones that didn’t work, all the chances you had to go to the refrigerator for all those decades. More crucially, he was a punchline in the Wayne’s World skit later.
By cutting to him in the audience, it made clear he was one of the few African-Americans in the whole place. This has been a problem for “SNL” all along so there was a long introduction by Chris Rock lauding Eddie Murphy, who, in his first return to the show that launched his career in 30 years, basically said thanks. (In the red carpet show, Dave Chappelle reminded us the astonishing fact that he’d never been invited to be on “SNL,” which said something also about the show).
Ellen Cleghorne got to ask a question from the stands during Jerry Seinfeld’s bit (where a few more celebrities — Michael Douglas, Larry David) got to be used and acknowledged. Her funny question was about the lack of black women — not necessarily in the cast, but in the world. “I was in the doctor’s office and there was only two!” she said. I remember Cleghorne as being about the funniest person in her cast, but like Jay Pharaoh, Sasheer Zamata and Leslie Jones today, she was always underused, probably because of lack of color in the writers’ room. As “SNL” continues forward, this is something to continue to try to address.
Anybody might have problems with who was left out or not used much in the special (Kevin Nealon, Colin Quinn; Norm MacDonald actually got quite a lot of time). I was glad to be reminded of “Deep Thoughts by Jack Handey” and Mr. Bill. They were light on “SNL” failures (such as the Muppets they tried to include at first and some of those terrible non-Michaels years). Marty Short survived his single season as seeming to be crucial to the show, but there was nary a word for Harry Shearer or Father Guido Sarducci. And what about E. Whitney Brown? Michael O’Donoughe was as responsible for the insurrectionist humor of the early show as John Belushi was seen just fleetingly. And Buck Henry, who was on so many episodes, just flashed by in a card.
“SNL” has already made its mark as a cultural symbol for all the stars it’s produced over the years – many of the special’s commercials featured them, whether it was Will Ferrell in some new movie or Nealon and Dana Carvey as Hanz and Franz.
The show seemed logically divided into segments about music-related skits, politics, short films and sports, if only to use all the stars enlisted to introduce the segments. But they seemed of two minds of treating deaths of cast members. There was an In Memorium section if you didn’t think this was enough like an awards show; but weirdly, they also had celebrities impersonating dead cast members, whether it was Emma Stone doing Gilda Radner’s Roseanne Rosanna Dana or McCarthey doing Chris Farley (who, according to the special, did three things on the show: Matt Foley, the Chippendale’s dancer and the Chris Farley show).
Bill Murray seemed to strike the right tone about all this: a little sad and detached; determined when it came time to do his nightclub singer (now named Nick Ocean) singing “Jaws”; glum to introduce the memoriam, which had its own two gags. One, a recurring one in the special about Jon Lovitz’ being dead.
I wish there were more about Phil Hartman, who like Ackroyd then, Bill Hader in his time and Teran Killian is today, a utility guy who can do just about anything. Also: Chris Parnell or, however you feel about him, Chris Kittan. Dennis Miller seemed skipped as well.
And what about a guy who was there 12 seasons and may now be as high profile as any: Sen. Al Franken. Even if he wasn’t going to show up (and why not?) he deserved as much of a salute as Murphy.
Maybe, in the end, they should have done one of those things they do at the network up fronts: Where casts of various shows (in this case seasons) would all come out and take a bow, cast by cast, and then all stand together and receive our applause. Because they were all there for us some past Saturday and we should be there for them.