What’s there to say? That was AWFUL. SNL‘s post-Seth Meyers era began not with a bang, but with a sh*t-in-the-pants, literally and figuratively. When old bits weren’t being ripped off, new ones were half-formed, and the whole episode suffered from weird timing issues, as if the cast was still on vacation. I can’t even blame Jim Parsons, and I SO want to blame Jim Parsons, the white man’s Urkel. He wasn’t good, exactly, but he wasn’t a mess, either. He was caught in the middle of a sub-Big Bang Theory tornado of suck.
I can’t believe I’m saying this, but: BRING ON THE LENA. And let’s never discuss this episode again.
And THAT’S how SNL handles everything terrible that happened in Sochi. I was hoping in the wake of Seth Meyers departure that the cold opens might slowly revert to being not COMPLETELY toothless. Clearly, that was a futile wish, because this was about as toothless and limp as it gets. It’ll seem like a goddamn Richard Pryor standup bit compared to Ellen hosting the Oscars tonight, though.
“BAZINGA HE SAID BAZINGA” — a million fans of TBS, “Very Funny.”
“Bird Bible” knew how dumb it was, which I appreciate, but I wish it had, y’know, actually said something about religion, and not just been an excuse to make Bird Jesus in Photoshop. That’s a funny visual, but that’s about how far “Bird Bible” went: aim for the easy laughs.
Dance Floor Killer
A decent idea that never went anywhere once the premise was established. Jim Parsons is a serial killer of old-school dance shows…until he’s not. Couldn’t we watch Cannibal Countdown instead?