From the very first word of the show—Tom Hanks’ distinguished “Hi”—the studio audience was all in on Saturday Night Live’s Christmas episode. No stodgy political cold open for us to suffer through this week before Christmas. Not when host Martin Short was being ushered into the five-timers club. Hanks was quickly joined by fellow five-timer Paul Rudd to celebrate their newest member. And the stars kept coming, like little Russian dolls wrapped in purple velvet. Tina Fey. Alec Baldwin. Scarlett Johansson, who slammed the door on tagalong husband Colin Jost. A particularly saucy Kristen Wiig, who warned Short that they wouldn’t make love like the last time and that went for Emma Stone as well, unless she sucked more of her Marty-tini down. One notable absence from the party: our beloved host’s OMITB co-star Steve Martin. (“He had a conflict with me not wanting him to be here,” joked Short.)
One of the best laughs of the night came during a round of the five-timers making confessions to one another. After Rudd copped to Ant Man’s lame powers and Fey admitted it was her in fact who was flying the mysterious drones, Hanks revealed “I never had Covid.”
Melissa McCarthy explained that the five-timers club was a place for sophisticated banter, where members would sip politely from their Hidden Valley ranch dressing rather than guzzle it. She then proceeded to throw herself through a wall, with John Mulaney making his entrance by stepping over her body. “Is there anything nonalcoholic?” Mulaney asked of the room. “Do you mean drinks or people? Either way, no,” said Fey. When Short snapped his fingers for “jacket boy,” Jimmy Fallon appeared bearing the prized smoking jacket. What a truly joyful sight to see all these funny people crammed together on stage to lift up their treasure of a friend. As Short cried “Live from New York!” Hanks and Rudd jumped in the air behind him like kids on Christmas morning.
You’d think Short’s monologue would dip after an opener like that but he kept his energy cranked high. Flanked by an ocean of red poinsettias, he tried to explain the dynamic between himself and longtime friend Lorne Michaels. “We’re kind of like Trump and Elon Musk, without the sexual tension.” Short got in some good digs at Musk’s cyber truck grotesqueries and dear Sarah Sherman’s layers (“don’t worry, one day that hair cut will grow up”) before moving on to the main event. Hark, this Canadian angel sings. Set to the tune of “We Need a Little Christmas,” Short belted about the necessity of quality prescription drugs during the frenetic holiday season while taking us on a high kick tour backstage. At one point he draped himself across a psychiatrist’s chaise and moaned “I have this recurring dream that I’m eating Armie Hammer!” When he ran into Michaels and Fallon, Short did a double take of the boyish late night host and marveled “God, I’m attracted to you” before treating him to a lusty snog.
The best sketch of the night involved Short and Mikey Day acting out their mall lot rage over a contested parking spot. As they battled back and forth, Chloe Fineman, playing Day’s very sex positive daughter, threw in some X-rated slings of her own. As the argument reached a peak, McCarthy, wearing one of her beloved geometric wigs, appeared in Day’s passenger window. “My face will eat your face,” she pantomimed. And then she did what she does best, which is make marvelous use of a liquid. She took a gulp of her coffee and spat it on the car window, before smushing it furiously and patiently around with her American flag clad bosom. Her physical comedy is always so magnetically unhinged and right in line with her character.
Bowen Yang had a terrific turn on Weekend Update, appearing as “A Drone” to comment about the overhead drama in New Jersey. “I know what I am and I don’t have to explain myself to anyone,” he huffed to Che, slabs of black metal protruding from his shoulders. “What’s this obsession with whether I’m manned or not?” demanded Yang. “I’m dating the helicopter from Succession if you must know.” If it was a drone’s lot in these times to be the receptacle for our collective unease then so be it. In a great turn, Yang accepted his role as villain and a green light took over his face. He stood up and instructed us all to look for him in the Jersey sky. If he didn’t quite have it in him to go for Cynthia Erivo’s wondrous “Defying Gravity” riff, he walked us right up to the brink. Bless him for breathing absurd life into another one of our bizarre cultural obsessions.
As expected, Jost and Che embarked on their annual tradition of roasting each other with surprise jokes they’d written for the other. Jost was forced to do his in Black voice, which meant extra mugging in disbelief at the outrageousness of his material. Che had to of course send up his reputation of being a lech and a dog. The only time either looked genuinely unnerved was when Che visibly blanched at the sight of Jay Z’s face. Shout out to Johansson who was the subject of two particularly blunt jokes. The camera kept cutting away to her, as she stood alone in the wings, dumbstruck and slack-jawed. If she was smart, she went home with Wiig post after-party instead of Jost.
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