What Does ‘Saturday Night’ Think ‘Saturday Night Live’ Is About?

As a child of the 70’s and 80’s, I can vividly remember the electrifying excitement that swept through our living rooms every Saturday night when “Saturday Night Live” graced our television screens. The show was more than just a comedy sketch series; it was a cultural revolution, a rebellion against the staid, predictable world of variety shows that had dominated our airwaves for decades.


Initially, when I learned about the concept behind Jason Reitman’s “Saturday Night” – it being a film set in the 90 minutes prior to the first episode of the late-night comedy institution in 1975 – I must admit, I was puzzled. Granted, it appeared as if there would be a live, backstage, high-pressure “What could possibly go wrong?” scenario unfolding in real-time. And that did sound intriguing.

To put it another way: The program we now know as “Saturday Night Live” didn’t just pop up one day or within a 90-minute timeframe. Behind the scenes, there was a vast process of brainstorming, planning, casting, scriptwriting, and countless choices, both big and small, that shaped the unique television comedy genre it eventually became. So, how did “Saturday Night” come to be? What were the ideas behind its conception? How did all the pieces fall into place? By the time the show aired on NBC for the first time on October 11, 1975, most of that process was already history. Given this, how could a film like Reitman’s truly capture the essence of “Saturday Night’s” inception?

Since the movie “Saturday Night” has started its limited release, giving audiences the chance to watch it, I find myself pleasantly surprised at how much more engaging it turns out to be than I initially thought. Every moment of it captivated me. While part of this appeal is certainly due to the spectacle of seeing characters from “Saturday Night Live” transformed into dramatic personas, there’s also a sense of nostalgia for those, like myself, who grew up with the show and lived through its early days. It’s fascinating to observe how well director Reitman has managed to portray these figures as characters, and to discern which ones seem authentic and which don’t – in essence, to determine what aspects of the film he got right and where he might have missed the mark. To my eyes, there are both hits and misses in this movie.

Matt Wood skillfully portrayed some characters, particularly John Belushi’s character from ’70s comedy. His take on the anarchist was a dramatic and uncooperative prima donna who refused to sign contracts or stick around, frequently disappearing from set – much like Belushi himself. However, Wood managed to capture Belushi’s essence – his slightly detached discontent, which masked a hidden sense of entitlement, and which led Belushi to play bombastic characters that lashed out at the world with aggression (such as the samurai, the self-destructive “Weekend Update” commentator, and Bluto). I also found Dylan O’Brien’s portrayal of Dan Aykroyd convincing, especially his friendly Canadian demeanor and ability to confuse people with his rapid-fire tech jargon. Lastly, Kim Matula came very close to capturing Jane Curtin’s false primness and haughty smile.

The movie contains a mix of accurate and inaccurate depictions. Cory Michael Smith effectively portrays Chevy Chase’s biting wit and domineering attitude, but he seems too grumpy, lacking the casual charm that was characteristic of Chase. Ella Hunt’s portrayal of Gilda Radner is overly bubbly and lacks the strong, distinct personality that Radner possessed. I must express my disappointment with the movie’s interpretation of Michael O’Donoghue, a pioneer of destructive, nihilistic comedy who significantly influenced “Saturday Night.” While it is true that O’Donoghue smoked thin brown cigarettes and critiqued network executives, he was not the charming, mischievous troublemaker portrayed in the film. Instead, he was more deadpan, hostile, sarcastic, and cool – a comedy writer as relentless as an assassin. It would have been beneficial if they had studied some tapes to accurately capture his voice.

Despite some criticism regarding the film’s depiction of Lorne Michaels, I found Gabriel LaBelle’s performance to be spot-on. At only 22 years old, LaBelle, who portrayed young Steven Spielberg in “The Fabelmans,” convincingly embodied Michaels, the producer of “Saturday Night Live,” who was 30 when the show first aired. Not only does he capture Michaels’ distinctive voice and appearance, but he also skillfully portrays a complex relationship between Michaels and the chaos that surrounds him.

Lorne needs to reduce three hours of sketches by half, which means sorting through countless index cards. Additionally, he must handle the volatile egos of the cast members, persuade network representatives who don’t understand, trust or like the show, and deal with Johnny Carson, who views NBC as his network, wanting the show to fail swiftly. Moreover, Lorne must have faith in this program, keeping it all together in his mind, despite not fully comprehending its nature yet. Not even Lorne knows what it is at this point. However, “Saturday Night” will become a bigger cultural phenomenon than anticipated; it will transcend the individual parts to become something far greater, an unforeseen revolution that even those who started it didn’t completely foresee.

The film’s secret lies in its portrayal of Lorne Michaels, who believes he has a clear idea for the show, but is unaware of its true identity. Adam Reitman, through the fast-paced and unpredictable structure of his movie, captures the journey of discovering what “Saturday Night” truly represented. Instead of creating a detailed documentary tracing the origins of “Saturday Night” (the National Lampoon, Second City troupes in Chicago and Toronto), its emergence from drug culture, feminism, and counterculture, he subtly includes these elements. A crucial scene features Lorne delivering a speech that encapsulates the allure of “Saturday Night.” He explains that the show connects viewers at home directly with the romantic enigma of New York City in a novel way. This resonates with me, as someone who watched the show during its early years in the Midwest. I’m not overstating it when I say that I eagerly awaited each new episode like a mini Christmas celebration.

Primarily, Reitman allows the story itself to define what “Saturday Night” represents. It’s not about the frantic atmosphere before the show, such as the hastily constructed stage or the search for Belushi, nor is it about the tense climax (which the film might exaggerate) over whether a rerun of “The Tonight Show” would replace the live broadcast at the last minute. These elements are thrilling and engaging, but the central theme of the movie “Saturday Night” lies in the fact that the show was groundbreaking by bringing the raw energy and conflict of show business personalities onto the screen. The reason the Not Ready For Prime Time Players were not quite ready for primetime is because they were so focused on revealing their true selves to the audience. That’s what made them special. That’s why they almost became the Beatles of comedy.

In a memorable scene from the film, character Milton Berle, portrayed with zest by J.K. Simmons, saunters backstage as if he’s the epitome of show business and female adoration. He identifies Chevy Chase, who was poised to become “Saturday Night’s” rising star, as a potential threat to his ego. So, he flirts with Chase’s girlfriend, then engages in a heated verbal exchange with Chevy that feels so intense it seems like smoke is billowing from it. Berle believes he has bested Chase; he wishes to demonstrate his superiority over the new generation. However, his sharp wit is merely behind-the-scenes banter – humor that comedians of his era chose to omit from their acts. Chevy Chase and the other pranksters of “Saturday Night,” on the other hand, will infuse that raw spirit directly into their comedy. They will be fearless, relentless, with no boundaries. (The show begins with a sketch about feeding fingertips to wolverines, causing the two characters seated in armchairs to instantly suffer heart attacks.) This is not your typical Uncle Miltie’s variety show – it’s Uncle Miltie’s subconscious mind on drugs. And once “Saturday Night” unleashed that genie from its bottle, television would never be the same, and perhaps neither would the world. Everything mainstream comedy had been suppressing for so long would no longer be hidden; it would be live.

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2024-09-29 21:47