"What [are] we gonna do now?" "What else? We're Greeks. We... dance!"
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With Season 3 being, by all accounts, the best of the original era—and by accounts that I stand by—I was apprehensive of the season that followed. We've hit critical mass; John Belushi is a bonafide star, and alongside Dan Aykroyd, he's on his way out. At the same time, the show's become more self-satisfied and secure with its place in television, a trait that suggests promise but so often translates to SNL as poison. This season is also one of pronounced experimentation, with its interests shifting more towards slice-of-life sketches, epics, and full ensemble affairs... though that daring spirit doesn't quite translate to its slim rotation of special guests (Father Guido Sarducci, Franken & Davis, Mr. Bill).
Does it persevere through these radical changes, or does it succumb to its fleeting desires? Here's what I thought, episode by episode!
For my reviews of the preceding season, Season 3, CLICK HERE!
10/07/78: The Rolling Stones (S4 E01)
Going into its fourth season, there's a sense that SNL is as assured as it could possibly be, and given the circumstances, why wouldn't it be? John Belushi returns, hot off of Animal House, as a bona-fide comedy superstar, the Rolling Stones are in the building to play along with the show and jam out, and Mayor Ed Koch walks out onto the monologue stage to declare SNL a beloved cultural institution and a source of pride for the city of New York. So perhaps its unsurprising that, amidst that fervor, SNL's main message seems to simply be, "We're back and we've got nothing to prove!" And truly, while the episode lacks desperation, its confidence lends itself to a bit of a conceited feel.
Part of that weirdness might've also been exacerbated by how non-committal the night was with its hosts. There's probably broader reasons for the Rolling Stones' lack of screen time, but even then, the show didn't really find intriguing ways to participate. Like, I've never been a huge fan of those Tomorrow sketches, however much they seem to whip the audience into a frenzy; Tom Snyder works best against some sort of hyper-specific character (Art Garfunkel's traumatized victim, or Jane as his identical-sounding mother), but trotting him out with the celebrity guest of the week to be quietly self-effacing doesn't allow for anything particularly gripping. I guess it's exciting just because Mick Jagger is there, but was this really the best way he could've been integrated into the show this evening? He's Mick Jagger; the last thing I want to see him do is sit and talk. Ron Wood and Charlie Watts, similarly, make pointless cameos in the night's "Olympia Cafe" piece, especially odd given the more dramatic sensibilities of this particular outing. They're here to put on a mini-concert, of course, and they do a fine enough job I suppose—Mick Jagger saunters around, licks Ron Wood, whips his band around with a jacket and rips his shirt as contractually obligated—but they didn't help the episode's sketches feel particularly charged.
As far as highlights are concerned, I feel like not a ton worked well for me even if most of the night was inoffensive. The cold open was probably the most I enjoyed the episode, which is insane to say as someone who just watched Season 46; Garrett and the ladies of SNL singing a paean to NBC's chime jingle backed by Howard Shore was as lovely a way to kick of the season as you could get. The aforementioned "Olympia Cafe" sketch also did some cool, dedicated world-building, with John's ignoble return to the cafe after being gifted a meager inheritance providing a nice touch of drama. As I've said before, too, John's at his best when he's doing more dramatic work, instead of going off on his repetitive outbursts (something the episode doesn't spare us from in the monologue).
Other things were at least admirable, if not sizzling hot. The Nerds sketch is apparently a classic but it was all performance without quite enough substance for me; there's certainly something to be said about how everyone was locked into such specific characterizations, but when there's no real end goal, it's a bit ungratifying. Bill Murray's Weekend Update debut didn't do a ton for me either, even if I think there's some room for him to grow into an enjoyable enough co-anchor; I just don't think his persona is the most applicable to the format, and him doing things like botching the Point-Counterpoint by politely acquiescing to Jane aren't super funny. And Schiller's "Sushi By the Pool" film was interesting, I think, even if I don't know what to really make of it; I suppose it's some commentary on the vacuous, hedonistic celebrity culture being ignorant of real-world problems, but it's more curious than hilarious.
Overall, while this premiere was confident, I can't say that it really clued me in on what the next season could be like. Hopefully we can get a better idea of that in the episodes to come. (Penned 7/16/21)
GRADE: C+.
10/14/78: Fred Willard / Devo (S4 E02)
I've stood by the opinion that, despite my lack of deep knowledge about him, Fred Willard is one of the most luminously charming actors of his mold. He was the sort of character actor who would just pop up in whatever comedy show I was watching and be immediately endearing, an ability that could be used to both schmaltzy (Modern Family) and devastating (Andy Daly's Review) effect. Naturally, I had very high hopes for Fred entering one of my favorite TV ecosystems, and while it's not the most accessible episode of SNL ever produced, it's undoubtedly a fascinating one that feels sharpened to his abilities.
The best piece of the night, though, was the "Scotch Boutique" sketch. It's a piece I'd heard a lot about but which I didn't know what to expect of, and it certainly took a moment to adjust to its very subdued, more dramatic tone, but it's surprisingly affecting. It takes an absurd idea that should theoretically veer the sketch towards wackiness—a store owned by Fred that, with the exception of a copy machine, only sells Scotch tape—and examines the human core of the employees trying to keep it afloat. Dan, Jane, and the rest of the cast offer some nice walk-on roles that keep the sketch on its toes, but what makes it work is the quiet heartbreak between Fred and Gilda, his cashier and wife whose struggling to believe in his dreams, and whose trust he fights to win back. I can only imagine the sort of reaction this piece got from casual viewers of modern-day SNL when it aired as the vintage episode in light of Fred's passing; by all accounts, most of the choices made for the hour cut were fairly safe, but I'm glad this one was intact, startling as it may be.
Last but not least: Devo! I can't get over how ballsy it must be for a completely unknown band to go onto SNL the week after the Rolling Stones, and then play a radically-reconstructed version of a Rolling Stones song. It's even more insane that Devo absolutely shows them up, twitching their way through some absolutely stellar performances that challenged the audience as much as it ultimately enraptured them. They sound as electrifying as they did in 1978. It's an appropriately atypical, gratifying musical performance for an appropriately atypical, gratifying night. (Penned 7/19/21)
GRADE: B+.
10/21/78: Frank Zappa (S4 E03)
Sometimes I just want a disaster episode to be a proper disaster. Perhaps, in light of finding the mythically-bad Louise Lasser episode to be more tense and problematic than intolerable, I should've expected Frank Zappa not to live up to his legends either. Don't get me wrong: this is a rough episode where both the host and the cast seem exclusively committed to the shared goal of getting the episode to end. Unfortunately, though, it doesn't leave you with any of the fun of a disaster so much as the frustrating monotony of an episode that's interesting in theory but seldom in practice.
First, let's talk about Frank. Someone else online put it best: everyone at SNL loved Frank and treated him as a weird rock star but Frank is, in fact, an experimental musician who takes his work incredibly seriously, and as someone who is staunchly anti-drug, he was made miserable by the druggie environment of the writer's room (which repeatedly failed to entertain his ideas). He's subsequently an awful host, delivering his lines disconcertingly and mugging at the camera non-stop, but he never truly derails the show so much as refuse to sync with the show's sense of rhythm. (Perhaps that's a testament to the cast's ability to keep things going; in the Coneheads sketch especially, Dan is very clearly trying to push through his lack of cooperation.) With that being said, the show did him absolutely no favors across any of the material that was crafted for him, or even most of the material cobbled together without his involvement. It feels like everyone is phoning the show in because they were disappointed that it wasn't what they hoped it would be, which I suppose is fair when everyone is so clearly unhappy, but to say Frank sunk the show doesn't do a service to how bad the output already was.
I mean, marvel at the night's big Halloween epic sketch, "Night on Freak Mountain," where Frank just repeatedly stresses he doesn't do drugs while being surrounded by drugs for almost ten minutes! Or Franken and Davis's lethargic political attack ad shtick for six! Even the night's mainstay Coneheads bit feels aimless, and that's before Frank walks onto the set as himself and just does his Frank thing—it's like firing a torpedo at a ship that's already sinking. "Woman to Woman" is a tiny bit better, with Gilda's cocky career woman interviewing a housewife in hopes of satiating her own ego, but the concept is more interesting than the laughless execution. There's exactly one good sketch here, with Bill and Gilda's suburban family housing a pack of criminals in their suburban home.
Outside of that, Frank does thankfully commit himself to the one area that matters the most to him. His three musical performances this episode are delightful, with "Rollo" especially being one of my favorites that I've seen from the show up to this point; John's call-in-response as Futaba, ironically, felt a lot more locked-in than last time, despite the fact that everyone was undoubtedly on better terms there. But yeah, this episode was disappointing, and while it's probably for the best that SNL didn't cave in on itself so much as it trudged sleepily to the goodnights... I'll be holding out hope for Milton Berle to give me the aggressive misery I foolishly desire. (Penned 7/20/21)
GRADE: D+.
11/04/78: Steve Martin / Van Morrison (S4 E04)
Back for his sixth hosting stint in just over two years, it's clear that SNL's hit a point of peak comfort with Steve Martin. He's already got a killer body of work with the show, a handful of well-liked recurring bits to keep mining, and the ability to imbue an evening with an infectiously wacky energy that enables the best out of every performer that he interacts with. That's where most of the night's fun comes from, if not the sketches on the page—Steve is a natural, and after the fevered pitch of his last episode, we're at a nice crossroads of peak efficiency and nice surprises.
Tonight was pretty strongly composed of recurring material, to good and meh effect. The monologue is probably the best, following in the footsteps of his last by casting Bill as comedic support. Whereas the last one was more intent on Steve's manic energy, though, this one was a perfectly-executed slow burn, with Steve's dog-esque treat conditioning of Bill sparking duress as soon as the treats stop. (Also, Bill does a fantastic job of holding his own against Steve, perhaps no surprise considering the post-show future that lay ahead of him. That ring of fire bit was as impressive as it was insane.) It's also fun to see the Festrunk brothers back in action, and a little bittersweet knowing that this is the last time we'll see these two during Dan's tenure. With the last two installments being rather derivative of each other, it was great to see the characters committing their silly brand of overconfident faux-pas in a more specific situation. Besides, what better way is there to see those two crazy swingers at work than watching them actually take shots at women? Lastly, the Nerds score one of their best outings yet; Steve was a nice addition to the sketch-verse in his last episode as "Chaz the Spazz," but this sequel gives him far more to do and a far more engaging scenario, fighting with Todd over a hospitalized Lisa. (Just do your best to gloss over more trademark degrading character work for Garrett...)
The rest of the night's recurring material was okay, hard to complain about but hard to really praise either. Theodoric returns, this time as a lawyer, but the formula is somehow even less effective, perhaps because the concept is a massive step back. (One of the main comedic beats was seeing if Laraine would sink or float to determine her guiltiness, which isn't even a fresh idea... not that Al Franken was assed to care based off of his smug background performance here.) "What If?" also makes a strange return; it's a sketch that should theoretically work, posing inane and anachronistic questions and aiming to answer them with the utmost degree of seriousness, but whereas this installment is better than the weak debut, it ends up being similarly boring.
It's not the smoothest Steve Martin outing, but it's certainly not a bad one, with just a bit more good than bad. It'll be interesting to see how he applies himself to the final season of this original era. (Penned 7/23/21)
GRADE: B.
11/11/78: Buck Henry / The Grateful Dead (S4 E05)
Despite the fact that Buck Henry hasn't wowed me since his first two hosting gigs, he's a host I'm always rooting for, and every time I approach another of his episodes, I'm met with an excitement that's perhaps only outmatched by the subsequent disappointment that sets in about half-way through. In his seventh hosting gig, Buck remains a champion of the show's strangest whims and a delightful everyman, but if there's little to this episode that offends, there's little that impresses, either.
The most notable aspect of this episode is that, after going for so long without a recurring sketch under his belt, Buck finally lands Uncle Roy, a character whom I have very much been shuddering at the prospects of. (I can count on one closed hand the amount of times this era's knocked it out of the park with an idea which is both incredibly dark and incredibly sexual.) But against all odds... it kinda worked for me, political correctness be damned. It's leering as hell, and I think under anyone else's lead it would be fully unwatchable, but Buck is perfectly creepy, indulging in his perversion with a sort of controlled giddiness that feels assured instead of desperate for laughs or gasps. I have very little hope that the idea will continue to work, but hey, I had my fun with it! Has the show finally broken me?
Outside of that, things are pretty boilerplate, if a watchable enough kind of boilerplate. Futaba and Nick the Lounge Singer make returns, with the former being a bit better that usual and the latter being a bit worse. Dan lands an alright commercial spokesperson piece, hocking a chinchilla de-furring machine with enough underplayed darkness to register, if not as strongly as I think it could. John gets to phone in a scenery-chewing scene as the unkillable Rasputin which rests more on goodwill than the strength of the writing. (We also get the debut of Garrett's Chico Escuela sketch, in a critically unmemorable sketch.) Buck remains a consummate pro through it all, and he gets to have his fun this episode, but things are still merely okay when everything is said and done. (Penned 7/25/21)
GRADE: B-.
11/18/78: Carrie Fisher / The Blues Brothers (S4 E06)
While I was never that familiar with Carrie Fisher's work, being someone with numerous glaring pop culture blind spots, I was excited to see her episode. While it's never been recognized as a classic, in light of Carrie's passing, it's gained a certain aura to it—not a ghastly one, but a sense that it reflects its host well and warrants a certain fondness that makes it feel special. Sufficed to say, while it didn't live up to those sorts of difficult expectations, it was a decent night, if not one I connected with too strongly.
Perhaps the experience was unassisted by the fact that I have embarrassingly little knowledge or interest in Star Wars, though I also feel like its big centerpiece sketch wasn't anything too exhilarating either way. I think that there's an interesting satirical idea in commenting on the vacuous, casually-misogynistic nature of '50s beach movies, but the framing of Princess Leia entering such a scenario as the new girl from outer space who just wants to wear a two-piece bathing suit and find a boy that's really cute feels too mad-libbed together, with the sharper jokes being lost in the admittedly detailed pastiche. (The refrain of "Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi" is admittedly very catchy.)
As far as what worked, pickings were slim for me, but there was some enjoyable material tucked here and there. For as aggressively simplistic as the premise for "The Loud Family" was, I was astonished by how perfectly-written it was. There's so many details that bump it from a sketch that writes itself to a sketch that fights to validate its idea, and with every turn (John entering wearing noise-cancelling headphones, Bill and Jane's loud sex, the pot bust), it does; it might just be the best sketch from a laughs-per-minute standpoint so far this season. Meanwhile, while the Schiller's Reel this episode was so low-key that I'm sure it faded from most people's memory the second it ended, I quite enjoyed it; the concept of a travel video resulting in a woman's wife dying from overexertion at her ignorantly hedonistic vacationing hit a dark sweet spot for me, and Schiller's unique framing of it allows things to feel fresh.
The rest of the night was, y'know, fine. Franken and Davis refine their "Ex Police" sketch as "The Mercy Killers," which works a bit better with its darkness but still feels too shock-driven to have much merit to me. The Tomorrow and Leonard Pinth-Garnell sketches are as they've always been—passable, but ultimately stale. Some rousing Blues Brothers performances help keep the energy pumping, and they finally win me over here with Dan and John's spastic dancing, but by and large this episode isn't too special. (Penned 7/27/21)
GRADE: B.
12/02/78: Walter Mattheu / Garrett Morris (S4 E07)
It's a moderately recent development, courtesy of Jane Curtin, that Walter Mattheu was a challenging presence during his week at the show, reportedly approaching the show's intensely meticulous calibration as if a silly romp. I suppose that's not the greatest sin for a host to have, even if it no doubt sounds like the sort of presence that would drive a stake through the writer's room. (I'm sure Belushi loved it.) It's hard to say how much that frustration shines though Walter's hosting gig, though, which becomes another run-of-the-mill and mildly interesting Season 4 episode, if one that feels mercifully front-loaded.
There's a pretty nice stretch leading into Update, which feels like it's worth shouting out. Our old friend George Coe returns for our third (and best, so far) pretaped commercial of the season, a goofy and rather insane ad for denture epoxy strong enough to grip the roof of your mouth against the weight of a helicopter; the Olympia Cafe also returns, and even if it's one of the more forgettable entries, I'm always a fan of their low-key charm. Bill's becoming the highlight of these sketches for me, and he plays a rather crucial role in this one with his verbless nodding turning the cafe into a Coke supplier, but as we get deeper into this season, it's nice to see some sketches that encourage more involved character work from Belushi. (Before you ask, yes, he does do another "But noooo" rant to burn that goodwill, and I'm beyond tired of them.)
The better pieces of that pre-Update half, though, are "Bad News Bees" and the bedroom sketch with Bill, Gilda, and Walter. Although my relationship with the bees sketches can be pretty mixed, this one was shockingly fun; I feel like these sketches can find the right balance between hackiness and brilliant stupidity when they really apply themselves, and this one, riddling a Bad News Bears-esque scenario with silly bee puns and innuendo, worked far more than it should have for me. The latter bedroom sketch is the night's best, though, a strong slice-of-life piece with Walter's father cozying up with his daughter and alternating ignorance and hostility against his poor stepson. It's the perfect use of every person involved: Gilda is bubbly and charming, Walter is a paternal grump, and Bill is goofy and pitiful, repeatedly butting into the father-daughter exchanges with brilliantly-stupid remarks.
After that, the night settles into being... just okay, with a few things to every sketch helping get the night over. The Nixon sketch bored me upfront but got more fun when Nixon's family joined in towards the end (Jane's sourpuss Pat Nixon was wonderful); "Woman to Woman" was a bit better than the last installment but still nothing too special; and the last sketch was one I wish I liked more, with Walter being the owner of a government surplus store attempting to console one of his customers, but it felt too sluggish and formless, punctuated by the occasional laugh (Jane's snowboot walk-on) that only served to decentralize the sketch's main conceit. I think this episode could've used just one more strong sketch to send things home, but sadly, it ends up just being okay. (Penned 7/27/21)
GRADE: B.
12/09/78: Eric Idle / Kate Bush (S4 E08)
Thank the comedy gods for Eric Idle for sending a shock of life to this ailing season! It's no surprise, really; his previous episodes, while attached to a far more successful season, felt like they existed in a vacuum that disregarded the precedent of the sort of material surrounding them, so it just makes sense that Eric Idle's return to the show would drive SNL to break the tides and operate at full power, fueled with the sort of vitality that the past few months have been lacking. Is it the complete lack of slice-of-life pieces in exchange for sketches with defined, strong comedic hooks? Maybe. I don't want to rag on the show's more experimental efforts as of late, but SNL is always best, to me, as a comedy show, threading its pieces with clear laughs that leave you feeling good, or at the very least laughing in spite of yourself. This episode was chock full of the cast sending in strong work, and some particularly fresh work at that.
Gilda also gets to debut her Candy Slice character, which I got quite a lot of joy out of. I've had some friends tell me that Gilda's work on the show gets a bit stranger late in her tenure as she tries to take on more "edgy" characterizations, but while Candy Slice is very different from her usual work, I really enjoyed the effort and found it to be a refreshing way to expand her range, drunkenly trudging about and collapsing on the ground until her inane demands are met and culminating in a rip-roarin', punk rock show-stopper. It perhaps hasn't aged the greatest material-wise, and I'll always prefer Gilda at her most endearing, but it's good fun while it lasts.
Perhaps it sounds like the best pieces of the night existed in stark contrast to Eric's presence as a host, and I feel like that's true to some degree. Eric only really gets to let loose and do his thing in the entertaining "What Do You" game show sketch, but throughout the night he offers strong support to a series of more ensemble-driven pieces. His monologue, taking a tour backstage to find someone who can give him the script for his monologue, is a nice jolt of metaness packed with great details (the writer's room being a dimly-lit hookah bar, John getting back-massaged before the show, Bill motivating Eric with a classic knucklehead speech), and both the aforementioned Candy Slice sketch and "Cochise at Oxford" are made all the stronger by how much he allows himself to be a gear in the machine rather than a needy focal point. That's why Eric's the best; he certainly has nothing to prove, and the cast loves having him around, but he never lets that encourage the show to merely coast along. He brings the best out of SNL and he's eager to please.
GRADE: A-.
12/16/78: Elliott Gould / Peter Tosh (S4 E09)
I feel like the show, up to this point, has gone all out with its Christmas episodes. Both of Candice Bergen's are wonderful, with her second being perhaps the finest episode of this era, and while Miskel Spillman's episode is weird and not particularly good, it's admirable at the conceptual level. With all of that, I was going into this Christmas episode with a lot of hopes, and to be honest, I don't think that was wrong to have, especially with Elliott Gould being such a reliable and wonderful host in the past.
Of course, though, with this being the perpetually-difficult Season 4, what we got wasn't just more of the same, which I thought I'd become accustomed to as much as it exhausted me. It was outright dull, a strange fusion of Christmasy premises with deadening execution. That's the annoying thing about this season; there's definitely a sense that it wants to be in a thoughtful, more writerly headspace, constructing very dense and realistic scenes like the "Knights of the Columbus" sketch or the alcoholic sketch to a lesser extent, but whereas I can find the show's goals respectable, they exit the woodwork with such a slow pace that I can't just dismiss them out of a lack of intrigue—I have to sit with them for a while. At best, I can hope for a sketch that chases after the sort of simplistic premise that I think makes SNL so successful, but when this season's idea of that is something like "The Widettes," casting Jane, Dan, and some others as a family of people with massive asses who simply exist with massive asses for several minutes... we're in for a long night.
So what worked? Well, Elliott's monologue was a step-down from his last, but I loved seeing him carry out a song-and-dance number with Garrett; it's always nice to see someone so underused get to do what he excels at, and his chemistry with Elliott is surprisingly magnetic. I also didn't mind the "Mommie Dearest" sketch, though I was browsing the Wikipedia page for the book in real time to understand what was happening. I think it's a bit questionable to recontextualize Gilda's catatonic Colleen as Christina Crawford, but she's a decent enough foil to Jane's master-class performance as her egocentric, alcoholic mother, Joan. I also thought the final sketch of the night, with Bill's Honker character selling a Christmas tree, was nice, though the slow pace of the rest of the evening left me too drained to fully appreciate the vibe it was going for.
I have very little else to say about this. I'm getting tired of Season 4. Even if last episode was rather fantastic, the fatigue of the norm is setting in, and it's making the show feel like a chore to get through. Here's hoping that we can get at least a few more good episodes in the second half of the season than we did in the first. (Penned 7/27/21)
GRADE: C.
1/27/79: Michael Palin / The Doobie Brothers (S4 E10)
Considering my general dissatisfaction with Michael Palin's inaugural hosting stint, I was as eager as I was skeptical of his second. As a Python, he's a host who is hypothetically perfect for this era of the show, and as long as the writers are able to drink from his comic nectar, we should be in for a good evening. That didn't happen last time, somehow, but lo and behold, this second go won me over quite a bit! If it isn't a flawless episode, it's one of quiet strength and some strong pieces littered about, which is the most I could ask of Season 4.
It's also, naturally, an episode with some nice, Python-esque fingerprints all over it, especially in its more successful material. For instance, we finally get a "What If" segment that isn't just merely passable, but enjoyably strong, casting Dan as a parallel universe Superman in a world where the all-American superhero is the defender of the Third Reich—Uberman. The theoretical strength of "What If" is being able to take insane hypotheticals and ride them out as far as possible, to a point where we've escaped the realm of logical conclusions and can bask in the hyper-specificity, and this installment nails that best; Uberman using his x-ray vision to oust Al Franken's Nazi as a Jew gave me one of the hardest laughs of the season. "Name the Bats" was similarly enjoyable, packing some fun, darkly chaotic energy into the night, though beyond its great reveal, all of its writing becomes white noise to the mayhem on-stage, and the greatest spectacle of it all is Michael's desperate attempts to keep the poorly-constructed prop door from crumbling apart.
We also got the epic Miles Copperthwaite sketch, an exercise in world-building of such grand scope that a second chapter airs in Michael's hosting gig later this season. While I can't say that I'm too excited to see its continuation—John and Garrett's walk-on at the end as lispy homosexual sailors points towards a degree of tone-deafness that is so, so SNL—this first installment was particularly enjoyable absurdity, featuring a killer performance from Dan as Lord Pinkney, a phlegm-producing English fop whose violent spasms cause him to launch snot all over the place in what I can only describe as a display of delightful grossness. The sketch itself is wonderfully-written and executed by all of its players until the unfortunate ending, but what it reminded me of the most is how much I'm gonna miss that madman Aykroyd when he's gone.
The rest of the episode was pretty standard SNL fare, though executed with quite a bit more inspiration than usual. The sequel to Michael's Nerds sketch from his last hosting gig, introducing him to the sketchverse as Lisa's pedophilic piano instructor, is a rather enjoyable step-up, broadening the stirring of his manhood to anything that moves. (Honestly, I was just happy to see some hot Mrs. Loepner action.) Even the trifecta of the season's most polarizing contributors—Franken and Davis, Father Guido Sarducci, and Mr. Bill—brought material to the table that I actually liked! They're still who they are (Franken and Davis lead their segment off with irrelevant and insufferable communism babble, for instance), but I dunno... maybe there was just something in the air that got everyone to bring their A-game, for whatever mileage that offers you. The fact that the back-half was able to maintain momentum in spite of ending with two of those danger zones, though, is something I have to respect.
All in all, while Michael continues to not be any equivalent to the always-delightful Eric Idle, he's finally hit his stride. Not a bad time at all! (Penned 8/30/21)
GRADE: B+.
2/10/79: Cicely Tyson / Talking Heads (S4 E11)
In light of Cicely Tyson's recent passing, I recall reading a comment on Reddit about how her hosting gig was quite possibly one of the most embarrassingly terrible episodes of the original five years, and looking at the rundown, it's not hard to see how one could jump to that conclusion. A generous handful of the material is filled with some truly wretched jokes or questionable racial elements, and sufficed to say, I was not looking forward to seeing the show's first Black female host given these early years' track record. But to me... it's a tricky one, and I say that in no way to let the problematic nature of so much of this episode's content off the hook.
This season has been a massive slog for me. It's a strange blend of complacency and sluggishness that's proven to be especially trying on my patience, alternating between thin vanity pieces from John Belushi and drawn-out, inefficiently slow pieces that struggle to justify their length and drag the show to a screeching halt. This Cicely Tyson episode, miraculously, lacks either of those things, keeping its sketches short and succinct with clearly-defined comedic hooks, and even if that's not necessarily a good thing, I felt like my attention was captured here far more than the average Season 4 entry. While this episode might've had greater peaks and valleys, from a viewing standpoint, I much prefer that to an episode that lulls me to sleep.
Now, I need to reiterate that I say none of this to suggest that the Cicely Tyson episode is good, but I don't think it was flagrantly bad, perhaps as a consequence of expecting it to be far worse. There are two things that I think deserve mention. One: Cicely Tyson is a magnetic, committed host who's giving everything her all, and for me, that helps sell the show through some of its more tepid patches. Both "The Shah's Final Days" and "Frontier Midwife" aren't the show's finest (though the latter only really sinks itself with its godawful rape ending), but Cicely gives them a jolt of life and keeps them moving. Although the goodnights sadly drown all of her words out against the house band, she's beaming, clapping, hugging and kissing the cast—she's a perfect host, really, ill-served as she was.
Two: this episode really serves as a microcosm for Garrett's use within the show. He's actualized rather nicely through a particularly fun installment of "Black Perspective," facing Cicely's ire for perpetuating the laziness of the Black man, and he gets to sing a nice duet with Cicely in "Litellavision," but he's also saddled with the monologue... though he at least makes the most of the material he's given and deflects the potential embarrassment, which has always been one of his best (if most tragic) attributes. And truthfully, even if I never like putting Garrett in drag, it's a monologue with some bite to it that I didn't really dislike beyond the conditions that necessitated it.
The episode, otherwise, is a mix of pretty good and very bad. The "Ex-Police" installment here is absolutely disgusting and one of the most grotesquely humorless, homophobic things the show has ever done, so hard-edged that even the audience seemed unsure of how to react. The cold open has some unsurprising racist elements and the nightmarish visual of John as Deng Xiaopeng, but it's not bad work from John, and I liked the subversion of his ranting style by casting him as enough of an assured hot-shot that he's not bitter at his sketch being cut. The night concludes with a string of rather thin pieces, but aside from the pointless "Cicely Sings Sicily" piece, I actually enjoyed the spectacles of the Walker Brigade and Litellavision. Last but not least, there's a rather solid Nick the Lounge Singer piece that's strong no matter what angle you come at it from; I loved the auto-train setting, and Nick's banter about his Volkswagen is about as good as the character can get.
Overall, this isn't a particularly good episode, but for a season that's regularly worn me down, it was nice to have an episode that maintained my attention, through the good and the bad. There's worse things for an episode to be than interesting to talk about. Two badass, must-see Talking Heads performances at least seal the deal of this episode having an ounce of merit. (Penned 7/29/21)
GRADE: C+.
2/17/79: Ricky Nelson / Judy Collins (S4 E12)
Rick Nelson as a host embodied the episode for me pretty well: I had no idea who this guy was, but the show was incredibly intent on me knowing him. That sentiment, a reliance on recognition from the audience to make its sketches soar, makes for a rather testy evening; I can see how this episode is strong, but it keys so strongly into a sense of nostalgia for things that I don't have. If you get it, you'll dig it, but if you don't, you'll just walk away feeling completely alienated.
It's obvious that tonight's episode is really trying at something unique. The sketches had a strange, meandering vibe, and not even as a lot of this season has with its extensive, slow-burn sketches. No, it feels like so much of this episode is built on a sort of spontaneity and sense of scale that, while interesting, rarely paid off for me in particularly satisfying ways. Perhaps that's, again, because so much of the sketches relied on cultural cache of the time that has since run somewhat obsolete; both the Twilight Zone sketch, with Ricky Nelson drifting from one black-and-white sitcom sketch to the next, and the macho game show sketch that suddenly gets infiltrated by The Untouchables had premises that I feel like I should enjoy, but that I simply can't out of an unfamiliarity with the source material. Both sketches have interesting hooks, and I can see how the constant shuffle of different variables may be fun, but I'm left with shockingly little to say when I struggle to decode the pastiche. (I did get a laugh at the I Love Lucy bit at least, which goes to show you the power of being in the know. I'll be damned if the rest wasn't just spectating upon a culture that I was never a part of, though.)
Although slightly less pop culture-saturated, the Candy Slice sequel sketch felt equally meandering, but I think it ultimately worked, substituting the ace writing of the first installment with more dynamic circumstances, culminating in Bill carrying Gilda to the center-stage for a live performance—not as good for me, but a noble successor with tinges of live show excitement. There was only one truly succinct sketch this episode, and I found it to be the best, returning to the struggling mall that houses the Scotch Boutique and peeking in on a barbershop trying to feign ignorance to the urban decay that spells out its eventual closure. I always enjoy world-building in SNL, which Don Novello's seemed to take quite a shine to between these and his Olympia Cafe series; it's fun seeing Dan, John, and Gilda's characters return to offer some satisfying connective tissue without ever deterring from the more immediate narrative of the piece. It's also the one opportunity that Rick really gets tonight to do some heavy-lifting, and he reveals himself to be quite the team player; if he's no Fred Willard, he brought some appropriately low-key charm.
The one glimmering positive that I can say about this episode is that even if I had my issues with it, I struggled with a different set of issues than Season 4 tends to offer me. I can see how this one would work, and I try to peer into the vacuum every time I watch vintage SNL, but sometimes the vacuum is just too strong. (Penned 8/14/21)
GRADE: B-.
2/24/79: Kate Jackson / Delbert McClinton (S4 E13)
Kate Jackson's hosting gig succeeds at something that this season has had a surprisingly hard time at: it's affable. So frequently, Season 4 will find itself struggling to balance its fatigue and tedium, but if this episode isn't anything too amazingly special (in fact, it has some legitimate abhorrence behind it, which I'll get to later), it's a breezy one, somehow quintessential to this season without attracting the season's most lethal traits.
That's not to say it doesn't have its ups and downs, but the episode benefits from lacking in extremes; its energy feels nicely maintained the entire time. In a lot of ways, the night (like the last one) embodies its host: Kate Jackson is pleasant and carries out her work on the show with a sense of professionalism, but she hardly leaves much of a lasting impression. I suppose it's true, though, that she's not given too much to do here that would allow her to bear any stronger of a presence. She goes from role to role, bouncing between herself, regular people, or attractive people. (SNL's not remotely leering here, at least.) She's served best playing a hot nurse in the Nerds sketch; the slice-of-life flavor of those lends itself nicely to some grounded character work from her, and the premise might actually make it my favorite variant of any of the Nerds sketches yet. There's something sweet about how much Gilda pines for Bill's tough love after he seems to have forgotten her amidst his swooning for Kate's nurse character. These sketches so frequently flirt with some iffiness in regards to Bill's antagonism, so I like how this iteration reminds us that there's a mutual bond between the two, and they're playing the roles in their friendship that just make sense to each other.
Beyond that, the night is a bit of a wash, though never too dreadful. The child psychologist sketch, with Laraine cast as a child psychologist (get it?), is probably the runner-up, and while I'm never too huge a fan of Gilda's Colleen character, Laraine's powerhouse performance pushes it over. It's one of the best things she's gotten this season, even if that's not a particularly bold statement. "Bad Cabaret for Children" certainly gives the show a jolt of energy in the back-half, but it's just a cacophony of confused noise. And the night's concluding "Coneheads at the Movies" sketch offers the usual fare from everyone's favorite alien family, but between John's heavy explication and the cutaways to the movie being watched, it feels too fillery and underwritten. Beldar getting high is worth a laugh, at least.
The most interesting aspect of the episode, though, and the most distressing, is John. This episode is famously the occasion that John, after three straight days of heavy partying with the Rolling Stones left him in incredibly ill health, was wheeled out by Lorne to partake in the show despite the strong likelihood that it would kill him. It's the most wretched tale from the show that I've ever heard, even more so because Lorne would go on to talk about years later as if it was something that he was frustrated with, all while fully enabling the problematic Belushi—reduced to a sickly green, constantly passing out, and with his lungs filled with fluid—to put his life on the line. And for what? John featured most prominently in a Fred Silverman runner that kept him at a distance from the rest of the episode, up until the final sketches where he played expendable roles. There's no reason why he couldn't have been given the show off to recover, as if John being integral to a week's show is a reason to risk his life to begin with. Fucking vile.
But y'know, outside of that, pretty okay stuff! (Penned 8/22/21)
GRADE: B.
3/10/79: Gary Busey / Eubie Blake and Gregory Hines (S4 E14)
There's something in the air with Season 4 which makes a relatively good episode all that more intoxicating. Gary Busey's hosting gig is far from the best that the show could possibly do, and it struggles through so many of the issues that have made Season 4 as difficult for me as it is, but for me, it's the best episode of this ailing season after Idle. A lot of that, admittedly, is by the sheer magnetism of Busey. As someone who's only known him as the manic, post-accident Gary who yelled at Charlie Sheen on that movie poster and yelled at his TV on that TV commercial, I didn't really know what to expect—perhaps a consummate professional who can go for it like a Nicolas Cage. But lo and behold, Busey's always been Busey; his rambling, hamboning, and the strangeness that orbits even the most theoretically infallible of moments gives the show such a forceful injection of life. To the episode's credit, though, he's presented with material that lets him pal around with the gang pretty darn snugly, and I'd be foolish to neglect that synergy.
The episode can be encapsulated best, perhaps, in its overlong prom sketch. I actually liked it, for the record; it was a delightfully realized ensemble piece that gave everyone an engaging, unique role, floating from conversation to conversation among students, musicians, and school faculty. It was as thoughtfully slice-of-life as it was absurd, ending with Gary's rock 'n roller declaring that nobody can stop him, only for scrolling text to reveal that he was stopped immediately after by a boiler room explosion that left his entire band deaf and incapacitated. But it's a piece that, nevertheless, meanders far past its initial welcome, the good somehow powerful enough to allow it to work in spite of what it threatens to be. The Carter brothers sketch and cold open similarly weigh their odds with their length and scope, but while the latter succeeds through some fine metatextual threading, the former is a slog that, up top the show, exists to remind us that even Season 4 at its best is Season 4.
It's the joy and spontaneity that manages to sneak in, though, that allows the episode to persevere, and to find some fine material in the process. The "muck jumper" sketch was the night's finest offering to Gary, and it's a particularly delightful piece; although it takes a few beats too many to get into its conceit, the conceit of Gary being a vagrant traveler who jumps off people's roofs into their cesspools was delightful absurdity, even finding an ending that makes the entire journey worth it. (How often does an ending make an SNL sketch?) Tom Schiller also submits a stellar piece for the evening, finding a muse in Bill Murray. I've wanted to see the piece for a while, and it didn't disappoint, painting a surprisingly affecting portrait for his homeless Honker character who, under the spell of booze on a crisp winter's night, dreams of performing amalgamated sonnets before a captivated audience. Even Weekend Update brought about more joy than usual, featuring some classic SNL bloopers courtesy of an uncooperative horse. There's nothing quite like the stability of early SNL dangling so dangerously in the balance, and by the end of the segment, Bill and Jane are reduced to giggles so intense that Jane can barely complete her sign-off. Indelibly charming.
And goddamn, I gotta mention this episode's musical performances, because they floored me! I'm embarrassed to say I didn't know who Eubie Blake was prior, but with Gregory Hines by his side, beautifully singing Blake's songs with the sort of twinkle in his eye that only comes from true enchantment and the utmost reverence, I knew he was special. Even four decades later, his piano wizardry is truly spell-binding, and the warmth on-stage between the two performers gave me the biggest smile I've had in weeks. Gary's special performance... not so much, but you gotta love the guy for trying. Pour that champagne, buddy—we've earned it tonight. (Penned 8/25/21)
GRADE: B+.
3/17/79: Margot Kidder / The Chieftains (S4 E15)
It always feels like a lottery, at all times with SNL, over what host will get treated well with their material, and what host will get treated poorly. Why is it that Cicely Tyson, perhaps one of the most radiant presences to host the show in the original era, would be saddled with some of the most offensive material of these early years, whereas Margot Kidder, a host who is merely affable and at best decent at reading her lines, exits with one of the stronger episodes of the season? I suppose we'll never know how the fates are decided, but if an episode at this point is even vaguely enjoyable... you'll bet your ass I'll enjoy it to the umpteenth degree. Such was the fate of this Margot Kidder gig: while she wasn't the most inspiring SNL host and occasionally stumbled through some lines, she never deterred in the relatively nice smattering of pieces the show offered her.
One of the things I found particularly nice about the episode is that so much of it was devoted to a certain St. Patty's Day cheer that enabled even some of the limper, rehashed material to get over for me alright. Both the concept of the cold open and the Knights of Columbus sketches are rehashes of pieces that I wasn't too thrilled about in their earlier iterations, but something about them worked for me just that hair more to feel tolerable, and to feed into the pleasant atmosphere of the night. There's also the monologue, which is probably one of the better pieces from the episode, where Dave Wilson and the control room's sloppy, drunken St. Patrick's Day festivities strain the show's ability to conduct itself. It is, admittedly, a premise that feels amalgamated from other backstage moments and monologues—a little Eric Idle, a little Killer Bees—but I always appreciate an excuse to take a walk backstage and bring the crew members in on the fun, something these early seasons have done a surprisingly solid job at. Oh, and we've also got The Chieftains, filling the two musical guest slots with a rousing dose of Irish folk music! Could you imagine if they did something like that these days? Because I couldn't even for a second, and it's another reason to appreciate these early years' eye for eclectic musical performances, which somehow nestle into the patchwork of the show perfectly.
The two most enjoyable pieces of the night, though, rested outside of that general pattern. "Fred Garvin: Male Prostitute" was a jolt of beautiful Dan silliness, something this season has been sorely lacking in at points; it's a rather long sketch, but he anchors it perfectly as Margot's unsolicited, square, and profoundly un-sexual male prostitute, making immaculate use of Dan's businessman-like delivery. (The sight of his "sultry" poses in bed for Margot with the world's cheesiest smile is also, undoubtedly, one of my favorite visuals from all season.) The superhero party sketch is even more labored, but similarly fulfilling. It's certainly not the grandest exercise in sketch writing to have fun with superheroes, but there's something intrinsically fun about seeing a piece so nerdy in the original era, and it excels even without a lot of familiarity with the source material. It's rather strange how halting Margot comes across in her performance as Lois Lane, considering that's, like... her thing, but I loved the concept of superheroes and their wives/lady friends being socially alienated at a house party, granting the sketch some fun, slice-of-life tinges. Plus, Belushi's chummy, wise-ass performance as the Hulk was particularly fun work from him—how often have I been able to say that about him this season?
Not only is it nice for an S4 episode to have a few pieces worth bragging about, but the fact that there's such a breezy energy throughout makes this one stand out quite a bit to me. It's still got some clunkers, and Franken and Davis tag-team with Mr. Bill to stink up the joint right at the end, but the fact that there's anything to like immediately lets me go to bat for it as a whole. Perhaps that's the desperation setting in... but I'll let myself have fun. (Penned 8/31/21)
GRADE: B+.
4/07/79: Richard Benjamin / Rickie Lee Jones (S4 E16)
In a season that lives and dies by a near-identical ebb and flow week after week, the prospects of the Richard Benjamin episode felt tantalizing. It's a strange, strange episode that I only really knew about beforehand from its epic "Pepsi Syndrome" piece, and its overall lack of sketches. Aside from the cold open and monologue, there's only four sketches total, which is insane to think about. While that gave me some concern as I grew more accustomed and apprehensive of the ways of this season—these sketches are already running long enough, how the hell could this one be any better?—it so quickly proved itself to be, in spite of that theoretically intense Season 4-ness, a truly singular episode, and one that stands as a refreshing and delectable exception to the rules which have dictated this season's onslaught of casual complacency and mediocrity. In other words: this episode was mighty strong.
Immediately, with the cold open revealing that Belushi wouldn't be in the building (out with an ear infection, allegedly), I was jazzed more than I probably should be, but as the episode would continue to unravel, for good fucking reason! This one felt like what I wish Season 5 would become: a version of the show without Belushi, but with Dan. Indeed, too, this felt like a nicely Dan-centric episode, something I've bemoaned the lack of in recent memory; he submits fine straight man work for the fun, meta cold open alongside a John Belushi substitute, gets the best use of his Carter impression yet in "The Pepsi Syndrome," and enlivens the "Scottish Restaurant" sketch, which without his anchoring threatens to become an exhausting, crudely-conceived bit of xenophobia.
Honestly, though, since this episode has so little material, I can afford to hit up every sketch one by one. The big centerpiece, naturally, is the epic, beloved "The Pepsi Syndrome," which absolutely lives up to the hype. (It's all the more surprising that I heartily enjoyed it, given that the prospects of such a piece penned by Franken and Davis, if at least alongside Jim Downey, make me feel very unwell.) It's a rather slow piece for the most part, but it always finds beautifully inane bits along the way to its sweeping climax—what other sketch features an ode to nuclear energy as delivered through mime performance, or a thirty second Rodney Dangerfield cameo? The true meat of the sketch, though, is Dan's Jimmy Carter, who, through nuclear exposure and a series of beautifully dated special effects, becomes "The Colossal President" and delivers a message to reporters in the nude from the other side of a giant window. It's so conceptually bananas that even Garrett in drag can't deter; the twist of his maid character (sent into the nuclear core to clean up a spill only to grow to Carter's size and become his new first lady) creeping into frame alongside Dan with the goofiest smile on his face gave me one of the heartiest laughs of this era. This sketch is all build-up to that wicked punchline, but damn if it isn't worth it; "The Pepsi Syndrome" is such a gem.
The episode already cements its place with that piece, but the delightful one-two punch with the Nerds installment that follows guaranteed to me that the show could do no wrong. Whereas Season 4 feels like a place where a lot of sketch concepts have come to die, I feel like the Nerds have just kept getting better and better with each successive installment broadening the characters' relationships and worlds. This iteration, with Todd attempting to seduce Lisa at the bachelor pad of his germaphobic brother (a perfect role for Richard's nerdy energy, mind you), was equal parts charming and beautifully chaotic. Both Gilda breaking as Bill forcefully pours rose down her throat, and the insane physical comedy of the two locking their faces together and rolling from the couch to the ground as Bill frantically tries to convert it to a futon turned this one into an instant-classic in my books. I could think of no better send-off for these characters, if only the show would allow them to exit on this high. I suppose we'll see how much further future installments can carry them, even if this feels like the most natural conclusion.
The remaining pieces are of lesser significance, but still respectable in their own ways. As simple as Aviva Slesin's "A Bird For All Seasons" is, casting Bill as a Fred Silverman-esque network exec forwarding his agenda of bird-centric programming, it may just be a dark horse candidate for one of my favorites of the season. Something about Bill's cocky deadpan interspersed with excessively-detailed recreations of television programming led off by real birds broke me. The sheer dedication swung me from the get-go and left me with nothing but guilty belly laughs at the site of bird Frankenstein, or a bird Lawrence of Arabia riding a camel, or a sitcom starring two pizza boy birds talking in the most mind-numbing Italian garble ever—transcendent content for my stupid soul. The concluding "Scottish Restaurant" sketch flirted dangerously with lame stereotypes, meanwhile, but Dan's performance helped bring some entertainment, and the absurd details (side of thistles, anyone?) manage to triumph over their muddied entry point.
What else is there to really say here? Not only does this episode feel fresh and rejuvenated, existing in a vacuum far away from the seasonal fatigue; it's downright epic. It offers the sort of madcap experimentation and expansion that makes this era of SNL so hypothetically exciting. We so rarely see that be the ultimate case, but man, when you do... the sparks can really start to fly. (Penned 8/31/21)
GRADE: A.
4/14/79: Milton Berle / Ornette Coleman (S4 E17)
I'm not gonna beat around the bush here: I came into the Milton Berle episode looking for a hate-watch. And how could you not? The moment Milton saunters on-stage and does so much as opens his mouth, the mythology surrounding his episode reveals itself to be true, only to get beaten into a bloodied pulp as he seamlessly combines sexism, racism, and insufferable shtick. Every deadening remark is delivered with a lifeless glint in his eyes, and the lifeless glint of a man who doesn't just know he has nothing to prove but thinks he knows better than everyone else in the room. I suppose it makes enough sense for him to reach that narcissistic conclusion given the entire audience's nervous teetering at his meandering stand-up, but I share my sympathy with them. I mean, could you imagine finally getting tickets to see SNL, and the episode is hosted by a legend of the golden age of television... and he fucking sucks?
It's a strange night to look back on, especially because I feel like there's some world where at least some of it could work. The greatest issue is that Milton crashes through literally everything that he's a part of, eager and smug to get the last laugh whether or not the sketches he's in necessitates it. A slice-of-life piece featuring the Farbers maintaining a characteristically low-key conversation while tending to their senile father? That's an opportunity to groan and spit-take, if there ever was one—why should we allow the audience's attention to be held to any one thing in such a fragile piece anyway? Even Milton's nauseating "show-stopper" at the end of the episode, crooning "September Song" and waxing upon his career, was a segment that Milton proceeded to litter with shitty jokes. (One of the few sketches he didn't sabotage, notably, was the final installment of "The Widettes," because he didn't have to for it to be exhausting. Due credit there, I suppose.)
There are some bright spots to come out of keeping Milton at an arm's length from the creative process, but every such sketch feels like more of a reprieve than a gain. Both the "Texaco Star Theatre" opening and the "Village Persons" pieces were on the fluffier side, but enjoyable enough additions to the episode that pumped some necessary energy in; the former made for a cute (if undeserving) tribute to the night's host, while the latter was a nice heaping of gaudy stupidity and unbridled cocaine energy. I also think there's something to be appreciated deep within the nexus of the "Launching Pad" sketch, even if it resigns itself to being another oblong Season 4 dirge; every cast member submits a solid characterization that encompasses the spectrum of amateur comedy, but it just isn't all that funny. The only real, bonafide winner of the night was the Irwin Mainway installment, and our final installment under Dan's tenure; while I haven't been as hot on it those sketches season as the bits have veered further away from visual comedy in favor of salacious detail, the accounts of Irvin's crude, morally-reprehensible amusement rides are good fun, as is Jane's aggressive, murderous lunge at Dan at the very end. It's hard to be a good sketch in the midst of utter dogshit, and my appreciation was sullied by the mood the evening set me in, but good material is good material.
Ultimately, none of that really matters, though. When an episode has already been relegated into loathsome infamy by the nature of its existence, no amount of positives can make up for the thick atmosphere, which in moments like Milton's ranting at his monologue being cut off or Dan hopping off the goodnights stage before the cameras are off feel all too palpable. There's too little joy in watching a decrepit old man bomb for an hour. (Penned 9/08/21)
GRADE: D.
5/12/79: Michael Palin / James Taylor (S4 E18)
At the goodnights of his third hosting stint, Michael Palin is barely able to get a few words out before he's immediately ambushed with hugs from the entire cast (and noogies from Bill, naturally) before collapsing to the ground with a truly endearing smile on his face. It's an indelibly sweet moment for this original era that makes you realize just how much Michael was loved as a recurring host, and it's not difficult to see why; in the heyday of truly rousing sketch comedy, getting to work with a Python is a dream come true, let alone one that inundates himself fully into the creative process of the show. This felt like an episode where everyone was having a great time... so it's unfortunate that it's also, by a significant margin, the most dreadful episode from Michael yet, charging forth with ambitions that, rather than granting the show a greater sense of insight, turn the entire show into a brutal slog of material that deserved to be lost to the sands of time.
The Richard Benjamin episode gets a lot of attention for its unique structure, but Michael Palin is even more unique, if unheralded in that regard—perhaps because it's so deadening. "The Pepsi Syndrome" lives on in legend as one of the show's grandest epics, yet this episodes sequel to Michael's previous Miles Cowperthwaite sketch is about a minute longer, if substantially less involved. The last Cowperthwaite sketch packed some truly beautiful absurdist details in with a powerhouse Dan performance; this follow-up, swapping settings to a homoerotic pirate ship, has significantly less to work with aside from lispy performances from almost every male SNL could source from the cast and writing room. If it hasn't actively aged into something despicable, it feels insufferably hacky and limp; a few choice details offer laughs, especially Bill's surgeon character, but the sketch's premise subjects it to an early grave because of how few jokes it can make (the list: gay pirates, Miles being sexually assaulted).
Not to be outdone, "Boulevard of Proud Chicano Cars" is just a hair more tolerable, and I mean just a hair. Coming in at over 11 minutes, it at least takes more liberties with jumping around from scenario to scenario, and set to set, but the premise that guides it is even more nebulously-defined (at one point, Dan's Jimmy Carter pops up crucially with limited explanation), and the incredibly wobbly performances from John, Laraine, and especially poor Gilda as Chicanos will make you wince at best and recoil at worst. There's some vague suggestion of the sketch attempting to make some comment about socioeconomics and race relations, but it goes about as well as you'd expect this writer's room to accomplish. Michael makes his only other sketch appearance of the night here, as well, in an exceptionally minor role as a Cockney mechanic, which also ends up being the only time in the episode that he's allowed a shot at putting his material over. He's fine.
Whatever tidbits the episode manages to squeeze around its two centerpieces are better by default, but all pretty lesser bits. Dan gets his first crazy spokesperson bit on the show in ages, but there's no spark to the idea, or any good comedy to the idea of steroids for plants. He gets a better bit at the very end of the episode as Tom Snyder alongside his mom, played to perfection by Jane; it would be the episode's finest piece if not for how truncated it comes across. There's also Mr. Bill in the mix! People like these?
Look, I'm glad that Michael had a great time, but just as he gets lost in the skirmish of his own episode, whatever excitement powered this episode to the finish line doesn't translate to the end result at all. One would hope that he's better-served in his future hosting stints, but I've been told not to set my expectations too high... and seeing this one, I certainly won't. (Penned 9/05/21)
GRADE: D+.
5/19/79: Maureen Stapleton / Phoebe Snow and Linda Ronstadt (S4 E19)
It's a great shame that, by the very nature of what they do, character actors don't frequent SNL very much. They're the sort of actors who put in the work, whether or not the spotlight is cast on them, and they take it to the stage with graciousness and a workmanlike precision to help get everything over as if they're one of the gang. You can tell that sense of self goes a long way, too; the goodnights of Maureen Stapleton's episode—a low-key but successful outing—found the cast embracing her, carrying her about, and proclaiming her name to the studio audience.
It's almost sort of miraculous that the show found insightful way to utilize the middle-aged Maureen, because it's not like SNL and its party animal energy screams "female host in her mid-50s." And yet Maureen made for a perfect member of the ensemble, delivering charming and dedicated work whether or not it was expressly required in every appearance she made. The Nick the Lounge Singer sketches always threaten to at least somewhat bury the host amidst the crowd that Nick navigates, but Maureen scores a win in the sketch with a beautifully-executed, aghast stare, and in the case of the rather flat "Veterans of Foreign Hairdos" sketch, her testimonial as a woman who's inexplicably content with her eccentric new look saves it from wallowing in repetition. Her best moment of the night, though, is also the best sketch, casting her as a passive-aggressive mother trying to push a tray of brisket upon her weary daughter, their dinner reservation be damned. It's a delightful slice-of-life piece carried by exceptional writing and a wonderfully in-sync performance with Gilda, who's granted a wonderful opportunity to go all out as a poor woman who loves her mother as much as she's spiteful of their microaggressions.
While that makes for the episode's crowning achievement, there's a respectable energy to proceedings that allows even the less successful material to at least bear some merit. While I much preferred Dan's first "Telepsychic" cold open from the Eric Idle episode, where he sleazily dueled with skeptical callers, this one was at least a chance to get one last bump of cerebral Dan weirdness on his way out. The "Roach Brothel" sketch was similarly bizarre, but while I don't think it lived up to its full, absurdist potential, it ultimately amounts to a fun, fake commercial in a season that seems far less intent on drilling into that well. We also have a strange installment of "Black Perspective"; while I don't think it ultimately gets over indebted to some iffy ethnic caricatures, I think it offers an interesting glimpse into the socioeconomics of the day, with Garrett expressing a sense of quiet satisfaction at the rise of immigrants becoming "the new [n-word]s" and lifting African Americans off of the lowest rungs of the social ladder. The night ends on (barring Mr. Bill, as I tend to do) another installment of Don Novello's mall series, and while I don't think it has as much of an impact as the previous two, I'm always happy to see something so melancholy and thoughtful to round out the night, and Maureen feels like a shoe-in for the sort of host who can convey those emotions.
It's far from a perfect episode overall, but it's the sort of episode from this season that I really like to see. I complain about Season 4 quite a bit, but it still has the potential to do good with the impulses that guide it, and Maureen Stapleton made for a fine muse to the show's more delicate touch. (Penned 9/08/21)
GRADE: B.
5/26/79: Buck Henry / Bette Midler (S4 E20)
Our annual Buck Henry season finale is a time of apprehension. As I say in all of my reviews of Buck episodes: I love the guy and think he's an underrated SNL legend, but I'll be damned if his episodes don't often try at my patience. Coming at the end of this rather tumultuous season, I was even more skeptical than ever of what we could accomplish... so I was pleasantly surprised that Buck's latest episode, if not as perfect as one would like to hope, felt like a true season finale, offering one last burst of energy before closing things down for the summer, and for some revered cast members, for the rest of their careers.
ndeed, this was the final show of both John Belushi and Dan Aykroyd, two cast members that I have nothing if not a ton of opinions about. John has been, putting Chevy aside, the most difficult of the original cast for me to assess. For as much capability as he has to be compelling, he was a creature of habit who often relegated himself to the same bits, played out to diminishing returns to all but the whooping audience that adored him. This last season especially was a difficult one for John; as he grew bigger than the show he was a part of, his efforts became more middling. He was the contractual wild card, but he only revealed his gifts when they were funneled into the right material. Fortunately, in addition to one final Futaba sketch (which I can forgive—it's the dude's final night, and the sight of John throwing pastries into the studio audience gave me another reminder of his likeability), he got to go out strong with our final Olympia Cafe sketch, too. I've always loved that series for its attention to detail and sense of narrative progression, and this was the perfect note to end on: after John's scheme to stage a fire and reap the insurance benefits for a renovation falls through, he leads everyone off with a Greek circle dance. It's a far more poignant image to close the season than Buck and Laraine dressed as "transsexuals," so I'll pretend it is.
Dan doesn't get as good of a send-off, but his final episode is perhaps tragically appropriate for how this last season has gone for him. With the show stripping him significantly of his insane spokesperson utilities (hell, Bill gets such a sketch this episode), he's more than less drifted into their resident political impressionist and ensemble player, lucky to get other roles along the way that play to his eccentricities. His final Nixon sketch this episode is rather fun, at least—I've never been the hugest fan, but Jane's dour Pat impression slays as always and the flashback scene with him and Buck holding up signs and "fabricating" incriminating evidence ("LET'S TALK IN INCOMPLETE SENTENCES) is a riot. One just wishes for a bit more love towards one of the greatest cast members of all time, but at least he'll make the most return appearances of anyone from this group in the years to come.
Those qualities offer the finale the most poignance, but the rest of the material is pretty routinely pleasant enough that I can't complain too hard. Buck's deviance is tapped into with yet another entry of "Uncle Roy," and yet again, it inexplicably works for me in its shameless debauchery, escalating to the degree that Laraine and Gilda stuff their socks in his mouth and tie him to their bedposts... but please, quit while you're ahead, SNL. I also enjoyed the metaness up top the show, between Jane's LFNY rant cutting off the opening montage and Buck's monologue, indebted to the interests of a focus group, shrinking and growing with the intellectualism and ribaldry of his commentary, respectively. It's the little things that help keep this episode feeling spirited if nothing else, and I enjoyed it.
GRADE: B.
Cumulative Season Rankings:
1. Richard Benjamin / Rickie Lee Jones (A)
2. Eric Idle / Kate Bush (A-)
3. Gary Busey / Eubie Blake and Gregory Hines (B+)
4. Michael Palin / The Doobie Brothers (B+)
5. Fred Willard / Devo (B+)
6. Margot Kidder / The Chieftains (B+)
7. Maureen Stapleton / Phoebe Snow and Linda Ronstadt (B)
8. Walter Matthau (B)
9. Steve Martin / Van Morrison (B)
10. Buck Henry / Bette Midler (B)
11. Carrie Fisher / The Blues Brothers (B)
12. Kate Jackson / Delbert McClinton (B)
13. Rick Nelson / Judy Collins (B-)
14. Buck Henry / The Grateful Dead (B-)
15. The Rolling Stones (C+)
16. Cicely Tyson / Talking Heads (C+)
17. Elliott Gould / Peter Tosh (C)
18. Michael Palin / James Taylor (D+)
19. Frank Zappa (D+)
20. Milton Berle / Ornette Coleman (D)
FAVORITE SKETCHES:
10. "What If" (S4E10 / Michael Palin)
9. "Muck Jumpers" (S4E14 / Gary Busey)
8. "A Bird For All Seasons" (S4E16 / Richard Benjamin)
7. "Fred Garvin: Male Prostitute" (S4E15 / Margot Kidder)
6. "Scotch Boutique" (S4E02 / Fred Willard) and the mall series
5. "The Olympia Cafe" (S4E20 / Buck Henry)
4. "Mother & Daughter" (S4E19 / Maureen Stapleton)
3. "The Pepsi Syndrome" (S4E16 / Richard Benjamin)
2. "The French Chef" (S4E08 / Eric Idle)
1. "Nerds in Love" (S4E16 / Richard Benjamin)
Other great sketches: "Baxter Prison" (S4E03 / Frank Zappa); "Uncle Roy" (S4E05 / Buck Henry); "Loud Family" (S4E06 / Carrie Fisher); Eric Idle's monologue and "Candy Slice" (S4E08 / Eric Idle); "Miles Cowperthwaite" (S4E10 / Michael Palin); "Nick Rails" (S4E11 / Cicely Tyson); "Nerds & The Nurse" (S4E13 / Kate Jackson); "Bill Murray's Celebrity Corner: Mrs. Ed," "Unsung Heroes of Rock 'n Roll," and "Schiller's Reel: Perchance to Dream" (S4E14 / Gary Busey); "On the Spot (Irwin Mainway)" (S4E17 / Milton Berle); "Nick Wings" (S4E19 / Maureen Stapleton)
FAVORITE MUSICAL PERFORMANCES:
10. The Doobie Brothers (S4E10 / Michael Palin)
9. Ornette Coleman (S4E17 / Milton Berle)
8. The Blues Brothers (S4E06 / Carrie Fisher)
7. The Chieftains (S4E15 / Margot Kidder)
6. Frank Zappa (S4E03 / Frank Zappa)
5. Howard Shore and the National Broadcasting Orchestra (S4E01 / The Rolling Stones)
4. Kate Bush (S4E08 / Eric Idle)
3. Devo (S4E02 / Fred Willard)
2. Talking Heads (S4E11 / Cicely Tyson)
1. Eubie Blake and Gregory Hines (S4E14 / Gary Busey)
SEASON GRADE AVERAGE: B-.
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