You had to be a little let down by comedian Shane Gillis’s monologue last night if you were expecting him to come out swinging, bold, and hosting Saturday Night Live over five years after he was booted from the cast due to uproar for jokes that were racist and transphobic.
Gillis didn’t joke much about the incident or the boost to his comedic career that brought him back to the program. He joked, “Don’t look that up,” just seconds after entering the stage to welcome the crowd. “If you don’t know who I am, please don’t Google that.”
There would be no self-serving jokes or boasting. Rather, Gillis made a swift transition, delivering a nervous introduction interspersed with hints of mischief. He made the joke that “every little boy is just their mom’s gay best friend” and mentioned that some of the happiest individuals he knows are those who have Down syndrome, including relatives.
Gillis became more uneasy as the monologue went on, especially for a comedian whose onstage character is a bit awkward, sort of doofus. He made jokes about how he thought a joke would make people laugh harder more than once, remarking at one point, “This place is extremely well-lit.” I notice that nobody is having fun with it.” (At times, viewers at home may hear more laughter from the SNL broadcasting room than from the artists onstage.)
An Ingenious Response
However, it was also a clever reaction to the criticism Saturday Night Live received for having Trump on as a presenter. After watching his speech, viewers who were perhaps aware of the criticism but didn’t take the time to listen to the podcasts in which he used derogatory remarks about race, anti-Semitic remarks, and homophobic and transphobic remarks perhaps wondered why all the commotion was.
Talking to his core audience in a more explicit and provocative manner than his comedy for a wider audience, such as his Netflix special or Saturday Night Live, may be something Gillis is trying to accomplish, something that is becoming harder and harder to do in a world of media where every podcast and stand-up performance is recorded and uploaded somewhere.
Regretfully, I had already listened to part of that podcast content prior to the SNL broadcast. Hence, when I heard him remark that his sister had married an Egyptian man and adopted three Black kids, going to their house was “like getting in the craziest Uber pool you’ve ever been in.” I became even more dubious. Alternatively, listening to him talk about how he and his family opened a coffee business in their community, where individuals with Down syndrome are employed.
Or the story that made people laugh the hardest, in which he imagined a bunch of “three black kids come flying out of nowhere and just start whaling on that cracker” after his niece, who has Down syndrome, was made fun of by a white student at school. (Specifically, why would they do that?)? Why is race relevant in this context? I realize I’m thinking too much. But it just felt like a sloppy pretext to offer the crowd a joke about a slur-slinging white person receiving some comeuppance.)
For the most part, it seemed like Gillis was trying to shield himself from criticism and refrain from making any jokes that would rekindle the backlash. However, it all seemed like a wasted opportunity because he also didn’t really address or clarify the criticism around his appearance. Or a subject ducked.
I was equally cynical about the other skits and segments in the evening, many of which seemed like they could have been lifted straight out of his meandering joke podcasts. This included a game show where Gillis played a white man who pretended not to recognize Oprah and Martin Luther King Jr. because he was afraid to say the wrong name on TV, and a skit in which he is the patriarch of a white family visiting a black church in Jamaica, allowing him to use a terrible Jamaican accent for a few jokes. (What hurt even more was that one of his opponents was a Black woman who had never seen the Mona Lisa or Michelangelo’s David statue.)
The fate of comedy rebels
As a gang of comic rebels parodying a stuffy political and media establishment, Saturday Night Live gained notoriety by beating up corrupt and incompetent politicians ranging from Richard Nixon to Sarah Palin.
The demand that comics stop making derogatory remarks about underprivileged groups, however, is seen by today’s comedy rebels as the new establishment. They base their successful podcasts, standup tours, and other endeavors on the false belief that refraining from racism, misogyny, and homophobia in any way restricts their freedom of speech. Punching down is acceptable and even quite profitable here.
If I believed that the messages presented in these cartoons about race, gender, and society were novel, I would be more accepting of all of this. Instead of whining about how offensive they can’t be, if they were pushing the envelope to propose fresh ideas, at least we would be discussing significant comedy ideas.
But rather than being the Lord of Showbiz Comedy that he has evolved into, Gillis’ appearance on Saturday Night Live felt more like an attempt to appeal to a different audience and play with liberal sensibilities. This allowed veteran executive producer Lorne Michaels to maintain his rebellious spirit.
In the process, viewers were treated to a mediocre episode that, above all, may have left them wondering why Gillis—a middling talent—was chosen to host the show in the first place.
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