Review: Final 2 SNL docs get geeky

This is the most cowbell.

Last week, I reviewed the first two documentaries in Peacock’s “Beyond Saturday Night” series – a collection of four hour-long episodes celebrating the comedy institution’s 50th anniversary. Those first two episodes are the most accessible, providing by turns a look at SNL as a star-making platform and the logistical challenges faced by the crew.

The final two burrow much more into nerdery, exploring everything you would ever want to know about one of the show’s strangest sketches as well as a glimpse into a failed year that most shows would gloss over rather than devote an hour to. It’s a strange, funny and detailed way to close out this celebration, and I, predictably, loved it.

Episode 3: More Cowbell

It’s known officially as “Recording Session,” but we, of course, know it as “More Cowbell.” On April 5, 2000, a very strange skit written by Will Ferrell about the Blue Oyster Cult’s fondness for bovine-related percussion in “Don’t Fear the Reaper” aired. As a result, we now have 45 minutes to burrow into everything we want to know about this sketch.

I was a bit skeptical going into this one. Nearly an hour is a lot of time to devote to just one sketch – what more can be said, especially since Christopher Walken has made it clear it’s annoyed him and refuses to speak about it? And out of 50 years of sketches, why is this the one singled out? Why not look into SNL’s political history or iconic characters? Wouldn’t it make even more sense to talk about the show’s very first sketch?

But, as the episode played out, I realized “Cowbell” is the perfect sketch to focus an hour on. There’s no need to unpack tumultuous political history that could serve as a distraction. It’s a beloved sketch written by and starring one of the show’s most popular cast members. And really, it hits everything you would want to talk about in an SNL sketch: it’s weird, makes perfect use of the show’s host, has an instantly hot catchphrase (“I got a fever! And the only prescription is more cowbell!”), and covers the most controversial of SNL subjects: is it funny or annoying when the cast members break?

“More Cowbell” wrings every last bit of trivia out of this sketch, even going as far as to pull the producers and members of Blue Oyster Cult in to see who first thought out the cowbell (there’s disagreement) and the role of Bruce Dickinson (who only sort of existed). Ferrell apparently got the idea for it after noticing the peculiar instrument in the song as a teenager and initially wrote it for an episode that would have been hosted by Norm MacDonald (and in his first attempt, “cowbell” was actually “woodblock,” which everyone admits is not as funny, especially given Walken’s way of speaking). And the dress rehearsal footage shows a much lower-energy attempt at the sketch, with everyone shocked when Walken went all-in on his line delivery and Ferrell pushed the cast into laughter with his big moves and tight shirt.

Is it silly to devote this much time to such a sketch? Maybe, but the doc’s playful town suggests that it’s aware that it’s pulling as much as possible from something ankle-deep. And, like I said, if you want to cover all the bases of what makes an SNL skit funny and memorable, you couldn’t pick a better one.

Episode 4: The Weird Year

I used to catch Saturday Night Live reruns every afternoon when they aired on Comedy Central in my teens and twenties. Mostly, I’d catch episodes from the ‘90s era and see the early work of Dana Carvey, Mike Myers, Phil Hartman and the others. But every once in awhile, the reruns would dig further back and a cast I didn’t really know too well would front a few episodes. Jon Lovitz, I was familiar with. But wasn’t that the son from National Lampoon’s Vacation? And wasn’t that Robert Downey Jr. … at the time I was watching, best known for his criminal record?

SNL’s eleventh season was infamous. Lorne Michaels had left in 1980 and the show had meandered along for five years after, surviving almost solely on the power of Eddie Murphy. SNL was on the verge of becoming a monthly show hosted by Billy Crystal when NBC asked Michaels to return, bringing with him returning writers Al Franken and Jim Downey. He went with a cast of young stars, including the aforementioned Anthony Michael Hall and Robert Downey Jr., as well as Joan Cusack, Randy Quaid, Damon Wayans, Danitra Vance, Nora Dunn and Terry Sweeney. The season was viewed largely as a formless, unfunny disaster, and the show was on the verge of cancellation when it hit its season finale that May.

You would expect any official SNL retrospective to gloss over this. Maybe it would mention how Iron Man once had a stint on the show and cast it as a rebuilding year. But “The Weird Year” – framed as a Twilight Zone parody hosted by Kevin Nealon – leans into the disaster, with the show’s producers and some of its stars discussing the thinking behind it and the way it crashed and burned (Michaels’ remarks are from archival interviews 20 years ago). They paint a picture of a show undergoing an identity crisis. SNL struggled without Michaels, but the producer came back and overthought it, trying to guess what might appeal to a youthful audience instead of following his own instincts. And it’s telling that while the youthful additions whiffed – don’t worry, Downey would be fine – it’s Lovitz, who would be one of the only cast members to return and whose persona would most fit with the original cast, who’s the breakout.

It’s a fascinating hour of (streaming) television. I’d heard about the infamous moment where Wayans changed the entire character in one sketch between dress rehearsal and airing without Lorne’s knowledge, playing his cop as a flamboyant gay character and walking off stage to find himself fired. It’s an amusing story to hear and a fascinating moment to watch. There are glimpses of the sketches where no one in the audience is laughing, and it would almost be bold of NBC to let them air (if there weren’t the knowledge that the show had another four decades of life left). But it’s also a peek at the show at some of its most experimental and notable, even if not the most successful. Despite the cast not totally working, it was a big deal that Sweeney was the show’s first openly gay actors, and one of the first on television. The hiring of Vance and Wayans was a step forward in diversity, even if Wayans notes he had to work to avoid stereotypical material (and the sketch that broke him is shown here and … it’s something). And there are also some strange successes, such as Tom Hanks’ first hosting gig and a bizarre episode directed by Francis Ford Coppola.

And the doc turns a stumble into a triumph by position the 11th season as the moment Michaels and his crew needed to come back in season 12 with a more focused show and more seasoned cast members, including Carvey, Nealon, Lovitz and Hartman. In the 12th season, the show found its groove and took a vital step toward being the institution it is today.