The behind-the-scenes portrait of *SNL* feels remarkably familiar, yet this time it is filtered through the mischievous, revealing gaze of the man who lurks behind the curtain.
Like countless *Saturday Night Live* fans, I felt as though I had spent the entire year of the show’s 50th anniversary immersed in a sort of crash course on *SNL*’s history and its place within the world of entertainment. I’m referring to all the *SNL50* specials, the commemorative gala, Questlove’s music documentary, and Jason Reitman’s film *Saturday Night*—a backstage drama in which almost none of the actors quite managed to nail the cast members they were portraying, yet which still possessed a vision of its own: a sense of how *SNL* became the first major-network comedy show capable of capturing the danger and madness of the real world—what was happening off-camera—and bringing it directly to the screen.
Director: Morgan Neville
Writers: Morgan Neville, Alan Lowe, Jake Hostetter
Stars: Lorne Michaels, Chevy Chase, Jimmy Fallon
I’ve been watching *SNL* since its very inception. Now I watch it alongside my teenage daughters, who are devoted fans of the show. I am an unconditional believer in *SNL* (even though I wrote my first article titled "Is *Saturday Night* Dead?" for my college newspaper way back in 1978), and I gorged myself on all the fanfare and paraphernalia surrounding the anniversary. However, once the celebrations had concluded, I suspect I wasn’t the only one who felt that I no longer needed to embark on yet another nostalgic journey down *SNL*’s memory lane.
That is why, when I learned that another film about *Saturday Night Live* was about to hit theaters—a documentary centered on the figure of Lorne Michaels—I couldn’t help but think: "Seriously? Do I really need to see this? Does anyone?" Nevertheless, if you are a fan of *Saturday Night Live*, you won’t want to miss *Lorne*, for it is a film as revealing as it is delightfully mischievous. Moreover, under the direction of entertainment history master Morgan Neville (*Piece by Piece*, *Won’t You Be My Neighbor*), the film demonstrates enough savvy to cleverly sidestep much of the information that had already come to light during the year-long celebration of the show’s anniversary.
Yes, *Lorne* shows us once again how *SNL* is built (the Monday meeting where cast members and writers meet with the guest host; Lorne’s ritual Tuesday dinner at Lattanzi’s on West 46th Street; the endless back-and-forth and winnowing of sketches—each represented by a card on Lorne’s magical bulletin board; he plays with those cards as if he were God rearranging human chess pieces). But it is something else entirely to see all of this from Lorne Michaels’s point of view. Now, we are watching the man behind the curtain.
*Lorne* draws us in with the mischievous joviality of its tone. The film’s premise is that Lorne Michaels is one of those rare figures in show business known—almost mythologically—by a single name (like Cher or Madonna); that he has been studied from every angle by the media and by anyone who has ever worked for him... yet, despite all that, no one truly knows him. He is a mystery, a sphinx, the smileless Mona Lisa of stately television producers.
And yet, everything about him is iconic. In 1997, when the first *Austin Powers* movie was released, a rumor circulated—like a whispered semi-scandal—that Mike Myers had based Dr. Evil’s voice and personality on Lorne. Now, that is simply part of the Lorne legend. Everyone imitates him: the documentary is packed with *SNL* cast members—both current and former—each doing their own take on Lorne. The whole thing is propelled forward by a series of caricatures by Robert Smigel, given that Smigel’s parody of Lorne Michaels in the "TV Funhouse" segments ("Come back here with my *shah-owww*!") constituted one of the earliest mythologizations of the Lorne figure. Even his office trademarks have become the stuff of legend: his snacking on popcorn, his tossing of ice cubes (whenever a sketch falls flat), the goldfish bowl in his office, and the fact that it is the very same office (and perhaps even the same desk) he had back in 1975.
The running gag—which, at the same time, is no joke at all—is that current cast members, such as Michael Che and Sarah Sherman, haven't the faintest idea what Lorne actually does when he is away from the show. He maintains a very tight-knit inner circle of friends and rumors circulate regarding what goes on at the blueberry farm.
Comments
Post a Comment