The Death of SNL and How To Bring It Back to Life

SNL's 50th Season Approaches... Nobody is Excited

This September will kickoff Saturday Night Live’s 50th anniversary season on NBC. The cultural touchstone, in spite of facing flailing relevancy over the last decade and a half, has somehow managed to endure. Granted, there have been few challengers for its time slot: 11:30PM every Saturday night. It would be fair to assume that SNL will remain in NBC’s broadcast lineup until the network itself is extinguished—which could happen any day now.

SNL’s creator and executive producer Lorne Michaels isn’t getting any younger, either. He’s done everything he could possibly do with a series like SNL. He made a name for himself, carved out a powerful legacy position at NBC, launched the careers of iconic comedians, made hit spin-off films, and even won several Emmys. At 79, he is almost surely ‘over it’ and keeping his involvement with SNL minimal. This is very likely why it has hit such a low-point. Whoever has been acting as Michaels’ surrogate on set has not been doing a terrific job at protecting the SNL brand.

Sometimes you’ll get a surprise from the series, like plucking impressionist James Austin Johnson for its 47th season, or bringing in Shane Gillis to host an episode after having been disposed of as a cast member in an impulsive and undignified manner. These treats come few and far for SNL loyalists who put comedy before politics. One has to question, though, at this point, how many of those audience members are still out there?

SNL, as an institution, has birthed the careers of some of the funniest and also some of the most unbearable performers of the 20th and 21st centuries. For every one Chevy Chase or Eddie Murphy, you get a handful of Chris Kattans. And to be fair to Chris Kattan, even he had his day in the sun with A Night at the Roxbury. That’s the nature of comedy.

If you were approach a former SNL viewer and ask their opinion on the series, you’ll receive a polarized response. It’ll come in the form of, “The series is terrible and has always been terrible,” or “it hasn’t been good since [insert decade.]” Neither of these answers is necessarily true.

In my last piece, I detailed how dismissing nostalgia and the merits of quality in our collective, cultural past is a mistake. While true with SNL that its current incarnation is without question the least memorable in the history of the series, SNL fans frequently succumb to a nostalgia-bias in deciding the best era of the show. On the August 10, 2024 episode of my talk program B-Bang, my co-host Hans Lam Barboza and I discussed Jason Reitman’s upcoming biopic Saturday Night. Barboza, 37, confessed that he hasn’t been a fan of Saturday Night Live since at least the early-aughts. He also cited the 1990s seasons as SNL’s best. This just so happened to be when he discovered the series. As did I.

The 1989-1990 cast of Saturday Night Live.

I started watching Saturday Night Live in reruns during the summer of 1999. They were re-broadcast on Comedy Central in syndication, usually playing on late-weekday mornings and early afternoons. I was introduced to both SNL and Kids in the Hall this way. Comedy Central didn’t have the rights to air episodes with the then-current roster, headed by Will Ferrell and Ana Gasteyer. They instead showcased episodes from the late 1980s and early 1990s. Between 1999 and 2000, I became extremely well versed on Saturday Night Live and its ‘90s performers, and—at nine and ten years old—aspired to move to New York one day and join the cast.

Because I was introduced at an early-age to a rotating lineup featuring Adam Sandler, Norm Macdonald, Kevin Nealon, Mike Myers, Dana Carvey, Chris Rock, Chris Farley, Dennis Miller, and several others, it’s hard for me to look beyond that period of SNL and consider any to be superior to it. The ‘90s had the most stacked group of performers since the 1970s. It also launched some of the most durable Hollywood careers to come out of the series. Though for context, nearly 3/4 of these performers have remained employed over the years almost exclusively due to Adam Sandler’s film career.

The problem with modern SNL is that it doesn’t have an exciting dugout of players. Now on its 49th season, the closest thing to a ‘face of the series’ it can provide is the boring-to-look-at and boring-to-listen-to Colin Jost. This is especially sad when you account for the fact that Keenan Thompson, who I used to remember fondly as being one of the best All That cast members, has been part of the series for 21 years and hasn’t had a single memorable character.

Performers took the backseat and politics became the face of the series. Which, in 2024, when we have the most lukewarm sociopolitical environment since 2015, has left SNL feeling lost. And it wasn’t even funny politics, or ‘Jon Stewart’ politics, that overrode the soul of SNL. No, the political sketches (that racked up numerous Emmy wins for the series after 2016) operated similar to scenes you’d find in low quality parodies like Date Movie or Epic Movie. They’ve chosen to ignore their cast of comedians and outsource actors (like Alec Baldwin as Donald Trump) or former cast members (like Maya Rudolph as Kamala Harris) and instruct them to recreate a slightly-less funny version of whatever event happened that week.

For a four-year run, that was a successful strategy. It was also a significant deviation from what the series had been for its previous 45 years. They drew in a new audience that tuned in to see the then-sitting president get dunked on by Mr. 30 Rock, himself. That, however, hindered the viewership that had tuned in strictly for comedy and resulted in an exchanging of audiences to occur.

What had once been a strong 18-35 year old male demographic transitioned into a 40-65 year old female demographic. That’s a very different type of show.

The feminization of culture, specifically within media and advertising, has been a tremendous weight on creative identity in the 21st century. The injection of female perspective, which has created a “yeah, but what about…?” question to accompany the foundation of any piece’s character, has rendered certain legacy brands impotent. For example, in the 1990s, it wasn’t questioned that Old Spice was an antiperspirant intended to be sold to men—the sales reflected that. The nature of introducing alternative thinking in the form of, “Yeah, but… what about women who sweat an abnormal amount and need the extra strength?” then questions the brand identity and sends a less defined message to target consumers. In the last two decades, this has become a widespread infection.

The 49th season of Saturday Night Live currently features a roundup of women who were cast for reasons that were only partially inspired by their performative talent. Nobody knows their names, in spite of being on one of the ‘big three’ networks every week. Nobody who tunes into the show casually can cite a standout character. This ensemble has no stars.

Saturday Night Live has become a sketch comedy series for older white women the same way that In Living Color was a sketch comedy series for young African-Americans. Which demographic has the least trustworthy palate and the most sensitive comedic taste? I’d place a heavy wager on it being America’s wine aunts.

To add to that, in recent years, the writers room at SNL has come under a spell of believing that it has “power” and a “responsibility” to uphold. SNL has been a staple for mocking presidents, politicians, and elections from the start—so political satire has been nothing new. Chevy Chase took on a very lazy Gerald Ford impression in the 1970s that somehow managed to charm audiences with a little physical humor. Phil Hartman and Darrell Hammond both gave memorable performances as Bill Clinton during his many scandals in the 1990s. Will Ferrell was, in part, made a star due to his impression of the 43rd president George W. Bush. But the presidential election of 2008, with then-retired cast member Tina Fey returning to portray Vice Presidential candidate Sarah Palin, left a ripple in the show and a taste for blood in the mouths of the writers that wouldn’t soon be erased.

President George W. Bush and Will Ferrel as President George W. Bush.

Years earlier, SNL had lost some of its most popular cast members. Its 2008 roster was a string of B-listers: Jason Sudeikis, Will Forte, Abby Elliot, Bobby Moyinhan, and the list goes on. Tina Fey’s return was a welcome one. Her impression of the Alaska governor Sarah Palin was a heavy shot of cultural relevance into SNL where it had been running dry.

The 2008 collective of SNL’s political writers felt, perhaps correctly, that Fey’s performance as Palin had altered the actual Sarah Palin’s public perception and made the country take the Republican ticket less seriously. This was something that they believed had only showed itself in glimpses before—like Will Ferrell’s impression of George W. Bush and his use of the word “strategery” during a mock debate with Darrell Hammond’s Al Gore. What they saw in Tina Fey was the power to shape public opinion. And so they trotted her out regularly in 2008 and then again in 2012 to affect change, even when in reality Sarah Palin was nowhere near that election.

When the real Sarah Palin made a guest appearance on Saturday Night Live in 2008, it became obvious to her and her entourage that what was behind the parody was solely malice. Certain members of the cast and crew deliberately avoided her while she was on set and provided a much different welcome than that of the one they offered Barack Obama, who they had consulted before making any jokes about. Palin, in a revised edition of Tom Shalles and James Miller’s oral history of Saturday Night Live titled Live From New York, had said, “I know that they portrayed me as an idiot, and I hated that, and I wanted to come on the show and counter some of that.” Her appearance resulted in a 14-year series high in ratings.

During an episode of David Tennant Does a Podcast With… featuring Tina Fey, she had talked about her experiences both playing and dealing with Sarah Palin. She said, “I didn’t want [Lorne Michaels] to have her on and I didn’t want to be in a two-shot with her, because I thought, ‘Well, that’s what they’ll show when I die.” She added, when asked if SNL influenced the voting public, “I don’t think that show can really sway people. I think you can shine a light. You can help them articulate something they’re already feeling about a given person.”

Tina Fey was brought back, briefly, as Sarah Palin in 2016 to take aim at the Trump campaign.

Unlike the rest of the 2008 writers room, veteran SNL scribe Jim Downey made an effort to direct his jokes at the Democrat candidate and future president Barack Obama. He said in an interview for Live From New York, “If I had to describe Obama as a comedy project, I would say, “Degree of difficulty: 10.10.” It’s like being a rock climber looking up at a thousand-foot-high face of solid obsidian, polished and oiled. There’s not a single thing to grab onto — certainly not a flaw or hook that you can caricature. Gore had these “handles,” so did Bush, and Sarah Palin, and even Hillary had them. But with Obama, it was the phenomenon — less about him and more about the effect he had on other people and the way he changed their behavior. So that’s the way I wrote him.” As time went on, Downey became more of a single ‘red spot’ in an otherwise blue writers room that was lead by Seth Meyers.

Horatio Sanz, was quoted as saying, “Lorne's very concerned with being neutral so he wants to make fun of everyone. […] He doesn't want the show to be this liberal bash rag. He may be a little more conservative than he lets on. […] And you also have Jim Downey, who's basically the Karl Rove of SNL. He's always writing the right wing sketches and honestly, I think a lot of time they're out of tune with the audience. […] I think Lorne sometimes leans too much on Downey and not enough on guys like Seth. Basically in the last couple of years, it's been Seth going up against Downey to set the show's tone on politics, and I think we could definitely have been harder on the right. They deserved it, and we dropped the ball as far as getting them.” Adam McKay (The Big Short, Succession), who had been an SNL writer during the 1990s, took grief working with Downey, as well. In a public interview with The Huffington Post, he had made potshots at Downey, referring to him as “right-wing” and a “pal of Ann Coulter’s.” Downey, however, has only ever confessed to being a Democrat and one that supported Obama’s campaign, at that. Yet, by the end of the 2012 election, he found himself on the outs and had had enough. Downey parted ways with the series as a staff-writer in 2013. That left a gap that was later filled by… more homogenous thought. He briefly returned in 2016 to work on a part-time basis, but unfortunately the change behind the scenes had already been incurred.

Alec Baldwin and Kate McKinnon triumphantly celebrate the near-end of the 2016 election. This, of course, was before the results came in.

During our much beloved and reviled ‘Trump vs. Clinton’ political season of 2016, the facade of neutrality at SNL finally fell. Kate McKinnon’s Hillary Clinton was the butt of many “she’s too qualified to be president” jokes and Alec Baldwin’s Donald Trump was portrayed as a neanderthal. This would crescendo into a post-election night cold open of Kate McKinnon, dressed as Hillary Clinton, singing Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” on piano. Why? Well, to cope with Clinton having lost the election.

Alec Baldwin interviews Kate McKinnon in Episode 1 of Sundays with Alec Baldwin.

On the pilot episode of Alec Baldwin’s almost immediately canceled ABC talk show Sundays with Alec Baldwin, he interviewed Kate McKinnon as one of his inaugural two guests (along with Jerry Seinfeld.) McKinnon confessed, “It did suddenly feel like people really were watching what SNL’s take on all of this was going to be. It felt like we were getting to interpret what was happening and sort of shape how people were feeling about it.” That’s about as direct and honest of admittance that you could request from a propagandist.

Since President Donald Trump’s departure from the White House in early 2021, SNL has trimmed down the amount of political material. They still throw James Austin Johnson out onto the stage once an episode in hastily done ‘Trump’ makeup, but the focus has mainly shifted to goofy liberal humor and bits that riff more on the state of pop culture. Unfortunately, that hasn’t done much to improve how funny the show is. In truth, it may actually be less funny than what we will refer to as The Propaganda Years (2016-2021). At least then the series had a distinct personality. What’s frustrating about SNL is that this issue that is eroding the series is easy to fix. All it would require is a committed action that has already been taken twice before in the show’s history.

In the late 1970s, after Saturday Night Live started to hemorrhage Not Ready for Prime Time Players (first losing headliner Chevy Chase, then substitute headliner Bill Murray, and stars Dan Akroyd and Jim Belushi), Lorne Michaels wanted to take a six month hiatus. The objective would be to find new blood in that time that could support the series for years to come. NBC president Fred Silverman wasn’t interested in the idea of break. The year 1980 had started to shape up to be a difficult one for NBC’s net profits. Silverman and the executives at NBC were relying on SNL’s ratings to delivery high paying advertisers. A lapse in the broadcast schedule would mean facing a significant negative impact. Michaels and Silverman ultimately could not come to an agreement, which lead Michaels to leave the series and NBC—along with SNL’s cast and writing staff. Jean Doumanian, who had served as Lorne Michaels’ second-in-command during the first five seasons, was recommended to take over his position and did so. NBC cut the budget of the series down by 3/4 and gave Doumanian three months to find a cast of fresh faces, as well as an entirely new writers room. The results were poor.

Saturday Night Live ‘80 premiered November 15, 1980 to an abysmal start. The cast of unknowns, lead by Charles Rocket (Dumb & Dumber, It’s Pat), introduced themselves to host Elliot Gould and the SNL audience as combinations of their favorite past cast members. This was a big mistake.

By the 13th week of the sixth season’s airing, NBC’s president of entertainment Brandon Tartikoff wanted the cast and crew evicted from 30 Rock. This was cemented after an on-air incident featuring Charles Rocket. During a parody of the “Who Shot J.R." episodes of the nighttime soap Dallas, Rocket (as J.R. Ewing) uttered, “It's the first time I've ever been shot in my life. I'd like to know who the fuck did it." He was fired immediately for breaking FCC standards and practices and the series was put on hold due to the 1981 Writers Strike.

The sixth season resumed one month after the controversy. It returned in April of 1981 for one episode, without a host, under the leadership of new executive producer Dick Ebersol. Jean Doumanian was viewed as responsible for the the show’s failure and had been fired.

The series, for its season finale, was made up of a mostly new ensemble of cast members. Featured players Gilbert Gottfried, Matthew Laurance, Yvonne Hudson, and Ann Risley joined Charles Rocket in the NBC waste bin. Laurie Metcalfe, Tony Rosato, Robin Duke, Tim Kazurinsky, and Emily Prager joined surviving cast member Joe Piscopo and rookie Eddie Murphy as series regulars. When SNL would pick up its seventh season in October, Metcalfe and Prager would be flushed in favor of Christine Ebersole, Mary Gross, and Brian Doyle-Murray.

While much of the overall cast for the 1981-1982 season were even less remarkable than that of the preceding year, under Dick Ebersol’s leadership the formula changed for the better. Joe Piscopo and Eddie Murphy became emphasized as the new poster children of Saturday Night Live. And Murphy, especially, brought something new to the fold that the series had been lacking.

Eddie Murphy as Mr. Robinson, a low-income parody version of Mr. Rogers.

The cast of Saturday Night Live had always felt distinctly ‘Harvard Lampoon’ and ‘Chicago Improv.’ Eddie Murphy was neither of those things. His comedy reflected a different viewpoint and represented a side of New York not previously seen in late night entertainment. This paired well with musclehead impressionist Joe Piscopo, who routinely shared the screen with Murphy, and offered a more tristate Italian flair. Together, their personalities brought about a ‘working man’s’ version of SNL.

The Dick Ebersol era of Saturday Night Live, in the decades since, has unfairly been painted as a lesser period in the show’s history. While the earlier 1980s seasons relied on the strengths of Murphy and Piscopo alone, they don’t get enough credit for redefining the series and allowing it to evolve beyond the shadow of those original Not Ready for Prime Time Players. Ebersol’s run on the series would later tote a cast featuring titan comedians like Billy Crystal, Martin Short, Julia Louis-Dreyfus, and Christopher Guest. This crew, like Murphy and Piscopo before them, boasted a number of hilarious sketches and memorable characters.

So what can be done now to allow the series, entering its 50th season this fall, to develop a new identity and character for itself? With Emmys already having been collected, a storied history in place, and a completely expendable cast of nobodies at the bow — the potential moves are limitless.

For starters, they can (and likely will) celebrate 50 seasons on the air with an anniversary special. They’ve done this three times before, for the 15th, 25th, and 40th anniversaries, featuring cast members from every era of the show. Or, if they wanted to shell out serious NBC money and bring some eyes back to the program: do an abbreviated “All-Star” season. This would feature beloved cast members who could feasibly fit 13 episodes of SNL into their schedules. I am sure Dana Carvey and David Spade could take a break from their weekly Fly on the Wall podcast to front such a season. Kevin Nealon and Molly Shannon could use the extra paychecks. Hell, I bet you could even land 72-year-old Dan Akroyd with a couple of promises to hock his Crystal Head Vodka.

Original SNL cast member Dan Akroyd holding two bottles of Crystal Head Vodka.

Alternatively, they could make a radical creative decision with casting: cutting the number of performers down from seventeen to six people. There were only a handful of Not Ready for Prime Time Players in SNL’s beginning. Focusing more on quality than quantity, while potentially exhausting for the performers, would allow the audience at home to hone in and get familiar with those appearing on their televisions each week. Large casts didn’t become a staple on Saturday Night Live until the 1990s.

Cast members Dennis Miller, Robert Downey Jr., and Anthony Michael Hall at the Weekend Update desk.

When Lorne Michaels returned in late 1985, he understood that rejuvenating the look and tone of the series was paramount to its survival. Michaels brought in well known comedic actors like Robert Downey Jr., Randy Quaid, and Joan Cusack to replace the previous year’s bombastic household names of Billy Crystal and Martin Short. This could be done again, to some degree.

Overcoming the heavy Gen X female audience it has developed would require a year dedicated to audience subversion. It would also need a cast of younger comedic talent that would specifically appeal to a Gen Z demographic. If the price was right, you could have a six or eight person cast featuring popular names like Jimmy Tatro or Adam Friedland. But SNL has always worked best with a healthy amount of unknowns. Personally, I’d advocate for comedians like Nik Oldershaw or Ryan Katsu Rivera to fill those remaining roles.

Unfortunately, fixing SNL seems to be less of an in-house problem than a corporate problem. If it was as simple as swapping out Lorne Michaels, again, the answer would be in plain sight. Eventually that will need to happen due to his age, but there is no indication that that would serve as a positive for the series. Network television is dying. From NBC’s perspective, it makes more sense to stay the course than attempt a sweeping overhaul.