The 15 Best Sketches of Saturday Night Live’s 49th Season

Season 49 of Saturday Night Live, like last season, lost some episodes due to the writers strike that edged into the planned opening day. But the 20 episodes we did get had some delightful, weird, and/or delightfully weird stuff for the cast to work with, and us to enjoy. So here are our picks for the 15 best sketches of the season, in chronological order.
“Protective Mom 2” (Episode 2, hosted by Bad Bunny)
There were a couple of hosts who attempted the infamously difficult host/musical guest achievement this season, with only the Puerto Rican rapper/singer/occasional pro wrestler Bad Bunny truly pulling it off. (Apologies, Dua Lipa.) Bunny gets added points for doing it all bilingually, as in this recurring sketch where the rapper got invaluable backup from former host and perpetual delight Pedro Pascal. The premise saw Marcello Hernandez once more bringing his white college girlfriend (Chloe Troast) home for the holidays, this time imagining his doting aunt (Bunny) will be less judgmental than Pascal’s imperiously protective mom. Sadly for him, Pascal’s mama is visiting, so the piece becomes yet another exercise in hilariously half-understood Spanish insults (here assuming the viewer is as single-language clueless as the increasingly alarmed Troast), with the impeccably mom-costumed actors (even if neither bother to shave their beards) express their very specific brand of maternal disdain. Troast can only pick out phrases like “Trader Joe’s” and “flat butt” amidst the rapid-fire Spanish, but she gets the idea. Bunny’s great, as he was all night, but it’s once more Pascal’s sketch to swipe, as his mother furiously rebuffs Troast’s suggestion that Hernandez has depression (“He just likes the dark!,” she booms) and does a little bit of business with Troast’s proffered gift of tinned cookies that makes you want to stand up and cheer. Or at least tell stories about your own mom.
“Washington’s Dream” (Episode 3, hosted by Nate Bargatze)
Low-key stand-up Bargatze was an intriguing choice for host, but the writers seized upon his sly slowpoke Southern delivery in this period sketch where the comic’s somber George Washington addresses his beleaguered troops with his grand, idealistic dream about breaking with England to create a new land—with its own confusing set of weights and measures. A silly piece of observational comedy pitched at just the right vibration to shake us to helpless laughter, this Washington extols the virtues of gallons, miles, and tons, brushing aside his confused soldiers’ understandable objections to the vagaries and non-round numbers of the ironically named English System in his sweeping oratory. Sure, there will be no name for half a ton, but at least the new American game of football (where you don’t use your feet much) will throw over the King’s metric system to measure the rare kicking play in yards. (“There’s a little kicking,” the father of our country concedes to Mikey Day’s skeptical soldier.) Bargatze never drops his deadpan, even when soldier Kenan Thompson repeatedly attempts to introduce the issue of Black people in this new nation, Bargatze’s Washington expertly segueing to yet another example of why, for example, rulers with inches on one side and centimeters on the other “don’t line up and they never will.” Living in the oddball logic of one writer’s singularly silly idea and the underplayed brilliance of all involved, “Washington’s Dream” is SNL at its conceptual best.
“Chef Show” (Episode 3, hosted by Nate Bargatze)
Once again, the writers knew exactly how to use a host, as the perpetually deferential Bargatze’s turn as a white cooking show contestant accidentally winning a soul food competition soars the more Bargatze’s embarrassed chef apologizes. After a round of Black judges (Punkie Johnson and Kenan) extol one anonymous dish as the most authentic expression of Southern Black food culture, everyone’s horrified to learn that it belongs to Bargatze’s Rhode Island native chef and not Ego Nwodim’s odds-on favorite gourmet. None more so than Bargatze’s Dougie, who punctuates every answer to the judges’ incredulous questions with genuine regret. Head shaking in awkwardness as his name is read, Dougie responds to Kenan’s exasperated “How?!” with a genuinely apologetic, “I don’t know. I just tried my best and I, again, sorry,” Bargatze making a deliciously understated meal out of his unexpected cross-cultural victory. Saturday Night Live often books hosts with limitations they have to work around. With the drawling gentleness of Nate Bargatze, everyone showed how to play perfectly to a host’s strengths.
“Make Your Own Kind of Music” (Episode 6, hosted by Emma Stone)
In another timeline, Emma Stone would have been a huge Saturday Night Live star. As it is, the newly jacketed Five Timers Club member will just have to settle for killing it whenever she’s brought back to host, as in her turn in this, easily the most ambitious and off-the-wall hilarious sketch of Season 49. Kitted out in a salt-and-pepper perm and creepily thin mustache, Stone’s music producer is matched in sheer performing talent by featured player Chloe Troast, here playing Mama Cass Elliot belting out her 1969 pop anthem, “Your Own Kind of Music.” As with some of SNL‘s greatest sketches, this seems to stem from a single piece of pop culture observational comedy (cheery old pop songs being ironically repurposed in creepy movie and TV scenes and trailers), only to break into truly bananas escalation. In this standout, it’s Stone’s quick-talking mogul assuring the nonplussed singer that, although her song will be quickly forgotten in its own time, it will find a second life in the new century as the juxtaposed score to, in order, a zombie movie, a Kill Bill-style sword-massacre revenge story, and a flick about Joan of Arc returning from the dead. Stone is astoundingly good, hurling herself bodily into reenactments of the scenes she’s envisioning (all of which end with Stone’s singing producer delivering the line “a smile on my face!” with manic glee), while the immensely talented Troast gamely croons out Elliot’s innocently positive ode to individual creativity with impeccable pipes. A funny idea already, the wraparound joke that this is all a pitch for a movie about a vengeful Mama Cass violently objecting to the misuse of her song (the carnage once more scored to her song) is loony perfection.
“Beep Beep” (Episode 7, hosted by Adam Driver)
Having an actor noted for their intensity in the studio is a gift, if the host is willing to mine the gap between silliness and their signature steeliness for maximum laughs. Adam Driver’s already shown his ability to do just that, and this sketch co-starring Andrew Dismukes is another showcase for the towering thespian to play up both aspects of his persona. As a pair of neighborhood husbands whose chipper “beep beep” excuse me catchphrase while placing holiday dishes on a crowded table give way to steely, dead-eyed malice when thwarted, Driver and Dismukes are living in their own little world of social awkwardness turned blood feud. (“Oh, I see, you want to die tonight,” Driver’s casserole-carrying host tells the similarly laden Dismukes.) Dismukes, who wrote this sketch, cites Will Forte as inspiration for his frequently brilliant portraits of the squirmy violence hidden under a veneer of chit-chat politesse, and it shows here, as the hubbies’ showdown takes their once-cheery “beep beep” warnings into the depths of stifled suburban manhood.
“Roast” (Episode 10, hosted by Dakota Johnson)
Unlike the Bargatze episode, SNL seemed unsure at how to make comedy out of similarly low-key Johnson’s signature deadpan demeanor. Thankfully, this Please Don’t Destroy filmed piece allowed the Madame Web star to reveal the claws hidden underneath her placid exterior, as she and the PDD guys (perpetual backstage punching bag writers Ben Marshall, John Higgins, and Martin Herlihy) see their initially friendly interaction transform into hilariously cutting put-downs. After Johnson confuses the guys by blandly stating that The Treasure of Foggy Mountain stars’ comedy isn’t for her, the guys team up to engage in an insult battle so targeted on both sides that it nearly redeems Johnson’s episode gig entirely. The guys get in their shots, mocking Johnson’s performances as uniformly “whispering in monotone” and threatening to change the monologue cue cards so she says the N-word. (John deadpan apologizes before asking if Johnson can introduce him to Madame Web costar Sydney Sweeney.) But it’s the coiled and unperturbed Johnson who goes in for the kill, referring to the guys as “The Lonelier Island” and calling them “the three last guys that a lesbian sleeps with,” before pulling of an exit line switcheroo, pretending to mistake the fledgeling writer-performers for another, more successful bro-comedy trio. The only truce comes from the three nepo babies (Johnson, Martin Herlihy and John Higgins) putting their signet rings together to recite the nepo baby oath, “A foot in the door and so much more.”