Flawed but Occasionally Funny and Heartfelt, SNL50 Was a Microcosm of the Show Itself—And the Man Who Rules It

For a 50th anniversary special about a show that started in 1975, it didn’t seem that interested in anything that happened in the 20th century. All of the sketches performed were from the last 25 years, and although they occasionally peppered in cast members from earlier eras (Murphy in two sketches, Mike Myers as Linda Richman in Poehler and Maya Rudolph’s Bronx Beat, Laraine Newman in a pretape with Pete Davidson’s Chad, David Spade in the latest version of John Mulaney’s elaborate musical theater homages), non-regulars like Pedro Pascal and Bad Bunny appeared in more sketches than almost any cast member from the show’s first 25 years. When you have almost everybody who’s ever performed on the show in one building, why roll out the umpteenth rendition of Debbie Downer, a sketch that was only ever popular to begin with because of how thoroughly everybody broke during its first performance? I can understand wanting to give Kristen Wiig a spotlight, and redoing the Dooneese / Lawrence Welk sketch let them fit in a couple of celebrity cameos (Scarlett Johnansson and, inexplicably, Kim Kardashian) and provided a perfect excuse for Will Ferrell to dig out his tremendous Bob Goulet, but it’s a character that’s been done nine times before, all within the last 17 years. Maybe let a character from the show’s first quarter-century have some of that time? 

Whoever booked the musical performances did a better job at representing the full history of the show. It started off on a bad foot, with an awkward, meandering duet between Paul Simon (the most SNL musical guest possible) and Sabrina Carpenter on “Homeward Bound.” Miley Cyrus and Brittany Howard teamed up on an SNL special for the second time in three days for a cover of “Nothing Compares 2 U;” Cyrus sang the hell out of it, and it’s a song whose most famous performer has an infamous history with SNL, but it’s also just like Saturday Night Live to treat Sinead O’Connor like shit during her lifetime for her entirely justified on-air protest and then try to celebrate that part of its history after she’s gone. Lil Wayne and The Roots did a medley of Weezy hits, Carpenter reappeared in the latest version of the viral Domingo wedding party sketch, and Andy Samberg and Bowen Yang dueted on a very ‘80s Digital Short about how every cast member in the show’s history has dealt with anxiety and IBS. Paul McCartney played the whole special off with the Abbey Road medley, as everybody at home and in the audience thought about Chris Farley asking Paul if the lyrics to “The End” were true. Friday’s SNL50: The Homecoming Concert was the musical peak of this anniversary weekend, but other than the Simon and Carpenter duet last night was perfectly fine from a musical standpoint. 

One huge absence by a crucial cast member underscored SNL50’s weird disinterest in the first half of that history. Dan Aykroyd, who was basically “the glue” of that original cast, and who seems like the last person who’d ever want to miss something like this, was a no-show. The original cast was barely used last night; Bill Murray made two appearances, Newman was in that one pretape, and Garrett Morris introduced another replay of Tom Schiller’s 1978 short film “Don’t Look Back in Anger,” but other surviving originals Chevy Chase and Jane Curtin didn’t appear onscreen until the goodnights, when pretty much every cast member in attendance was on stage. I could understand why somebody like Dan Aykroyd would want to skip out on an anniversary special with such a strong streak of recency bias—one that maybe wouldn’t give him anything more than a token cameo—but it was still a bummer that he wasn’t there. (Other notable holdouts: Bill Hader, whose absence was glaring during the many times castmates from his era were onscreen; Dana Carvey, which is especially weird since he’s basically been an unofficial cast member this season; and former Weekend Update host Colin Quinn, who had a job to do, performing stand-up in North Carolina.)

Ultimately SNL50 was a good microcosm of Saturday Night Live as a whole. The special was in love with itself but selective about its history, and still aware enough to frequently mock its own conventions and weird institutional baggage. It also was a special dominated by one man who was rarely mentioned on camera and only seen for a brief moment at the very end. 

Like last month’s SNL50 documentaries, the show’s creator and producer Lorne Michaels wasn’t an active onscreen participant in the special. He didn’t appear until the final minutes, and said nothing. His presence loomed over every aspect of the special, though, just as it does the weekly show and the way it commemorates its history. Despite continuing to rule SNL as his own personal kingdom, Michaels has increasingly receded from the spotlight over the years, perhaps because he’s drawn increasing scrutiny and criticism over his management style, the cult of personality he’s constructed, the fear and awe he’s cultivated in his employees, and the way his personal relationships and politics have influenced the show. Maybe that’s why SNL50 seemed so reluctant to acknowledge the 1970s: Michaels was more of an on-air presence back then, but he was also more of an equal to the cast members and writers of that era than he’s ever been since—their boss, sure, but also their friend, a peer, somebody who’d party and socialize with them, and not a cold, aloof, withholding father figure wielding an obscene amount of power over their future career prospects. Maybe Dan Aykroyd didn’t show up because he’s one of the few SNL cast members willing to tell Michaels exactly what he thinks when he finds out he’s not getting much airtime, in which case maybe this show needs more Dan Aykroyds. 

It’s not hard to see SNL50 as not just an anniversary celebration but one of the capstones on Michaels’ tenure on the show. He apparently has no plan to step down anytime soon, despite turning 80 back in November. 50’s the kind of big, round number that makes sense for a retirement, but then Michaels has only been with the show for 45 of those seasons. Perhaps he’s gunning for a personal 50—or maybe he’s one of those people who won’t ever retire, who’ll lord over this 90 minutes of NBC’s late night schedule until he dies or is forced out. Either way, SNL50: The Anniversary Special would have been an ideal swan song for the man, letting him go out in a flurry of praise and adulation while also serving as a stark reminder of all of SNL’s many flaws—flaws that are both owned and shared by Michaels himself.

Senior editor Garrett Martin writes about videogames, TV, travel, theme parks, wrestling, music, and more. You can also find him on Blue Sky.