The Early Days: Seedy, Slapdash, and a Little Dangerous
It's hard to imagine now, but in 1975, when it first aired, Saturday Night Live felt dangerous. It looked seedy and slapdash and unlike anything else on TV at the time. For teens like myself who grew up on the bland, polished 'comedy' of shows like The Love Boat and The Brady Bunch, SNL, with its DIY look and sensibility, felt entirely new. There was nothing new about live television, of course. But there was an unmistakable feeling of risk to SNL. It was a weekly, late-night tightwire act. Failure was totally an option. You sometimes cringed, but there was always--always--the feeling that maybe...
But truth be told, in the early days, I tuned in as much for the musical guests as the comedy. SNL gave me a first glimpse of many of the new wave performers who would change my life: Patti Smith, Talking Heads, Devo, the B-52s, Elvis Costello, and others. While all of them went on to gain varying degrees of mainstream acceptance, they were virtual unknowns when they first appeared on the show. like SNL itself, they were raw and unpolished and revolutionary in their own ways. And there was no other broadcast venue willing to air their off-kilter takes on pop. For me, and I assume many others of my generation, they represented the equivalent of the Beatles' first appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show for an earlier one.
The comedy did push--or at least probe--boundaries, even if they didn't always seem particularly well-defined. Its duct-tape-and-chickenwire approach to television was delivered with palpable conviction by performers who didn't look, sound, or think like the straight-teethed and immaculately coiffed uncanny valley girls and boys of most prime-time television. And that and the music made the early days of SNL, for a lot of suburban teens like me, a sort of generational touchstone, a starting place, a window to weirder worlds that we had up to then only hoped were out there.
SNL: Venerable Institution
Fifty years on, the thrill is not entirely gone, but the stakes are lower. There's no danger the show might be yanked off the air mid-sketch and replaced with a "we are experiencing technical difficulties" screen. SNL is an institution now, and as such, it has difficulty finding worthy targets for its satire. You can't punch up if you're at the top. The Weekend Update segment--a fixture of SNL since its inception--was never as agenda-driven as later arrivals in the same faux newscast format like The Daily Show and Last Week Tonight, but now, as often as not, Weekend Update seems inconsequential and toothless by comparison. It dances around the periphery of current events, taking potshots at personalities rather than trying to engage with issues.
SNL's importance to the culture has waxed and waned over the years but never, to my mind, reclaimed its centrality of its first decade or so. That's okay. It's to be expected. For at least two generations, it has just always been there in its namesake timeslot doing its thing, occasionally cracking into the broader cultural discourse as with the Trump-Hillary sendups featuring Alec Baldwin and Kate McKinnon of 2016. With the rise of cable, streaming, and social media, SNL is no longer the only place to see up-and-coming comic actors before they become stars. But Lorne Michaels' ability to spot and gather talent makes it worth watching, if not a must-watch.
Proving Ground and Star Factory
From the start, the show became a solid gold pipeline into the mainstream for talented, ambitious unknowns. In the show's first cast alone, John Belushi (Animal House, The Blues Brothers) and Chevy Chase (National Lampoon's Vacation franchise, Caddyshack, Community TV series) became certified movie stars, as did Bill Murray (Groundhog Day, Lost in Translation, The French Dispatch) who joined in its third season. Dan Ackroyd had a short but solid career in lead roles and a longer one as a character actor. Gilda Radner struggled to find a footing in Hollywood after SNL, starring in three lackluster films before and during the battle with cancer that she ultimately, and sadly, lost. Had she lived longer, it's a good bet she would have found a path. She was just so talented. Even Jane Curtin, who was mainly relegated to supporting 'straight man' roles on SNL, had a successful run as co-star of the 80s sitcom Kate & Allie.
(Some of) the Most Underrated SNL Cast Members (1975 - present)
Its function as a proving ground for young comedic actors is no doubt Saturday Night Live's lasting legacy. But for every Will Ferrell, Tina Fey and Andy Samberg who went onto stardom, there were dozens of cast members who didn't make the kind of splash in the mainstream that their talents merited. Here are seven of the most underrated cast members in SNL history and why I think they deserve more love.
Tim Meadows (1991-2000)
Tim Meadows was on SNL for ten seasons, making him one of the longest-running cast members at the time. He was an ultimate utility player—never the flashiest performer but always hilarious, reliable, and effortlessly smooth. His "Ladies Man" character became a cult favorite, but his ability to disappear into sketches without overshadowing them was his real gift.
Ana Gasteyer (1996-2002)
Ana Gasteyer was a master of playing big characters while keeping them grounded. Whether it was NPR’s Delicious Dish host, her unhinged Celine Dion impression, or her commitment to musical comedy (Martha Stewart’s topless Christmas greeting), she delivered consistently brilliant performances. She’s often overshadowed by her more famous peers like Molly Shannon and Tina Fey, but she was just as essential.
Chris Parnell (1998-2006)
SNL literally fired and rehired Parnell TWICE, yet he still delivered some of the best deadpan comedy on the show. His “Lazy Sunday” rap with Andy Samberg arguably launched digital shorts, and his unhinged rants as Dr. Spaceman on 30 Rock prove he was a comedy assassin. His straight-man delivery was so perfect that people sometimes forgot how funny he really was.
Jane Curtin (1975-1980)
As an original cast member, Curtin often had to play the “normal” character while John Belushi, Gilda Radner, and Dan Aykroyd went wild. But she was the rock that held the show together—her Weekend Update deadpan sarcasm paved the way for later anchors like Tina Fey and Seth Meyers. Also, her brutal takedowns of Dan Aykroyd’s sexist “Jane, you ignorant sl*t” remarks were way ahead of their time.
Taran Killam (2010-2016)
Taran Killam could do anything—impressions, physical comedy, absurd characters, singing, you name it. His Jebidiah Atkinson character (the 1860s-era newspaper critic who trashed everything) was an underrated classic. He had the chops to be one of SNL’s all-time greats, but he left just as he was hitting his stride.
Sasheer Zamata (2014-2017)
Sasheer joined during a time when SNL was (rightly) criticized for its lack of diversity, but she was not just filling a quota—she was genuinely funny and versatile. Her impressions of Michelle Obama, Rihanna, and Solange were spot-on, and her ability to elevate underwritten sketches was impressive. She deserved more screen time than she got.
Gary Kroeger (1982-1985)
Most people don’t even remember Gary Kroeger, but he was one of the best impressionists SNL ever had. His Walter Mondale impression was a highlight of the early ‘80s, and his versatility in sketches should have made him a bigger star. He got lost in the shuffle of an awkward SNL transition period, but he was way funnier than his short run suggests.
Would you swap anyone out for another underrated gem?
SNL on DVD @ HCPL
Saturday Night Live in the '80s
Books about Saturday Night Live
Books and eBooks by folks who made their livings walking the tightrope of live TV every Saturday night.
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