Lorne Michaels should send a check to Sony.
Because the studio has sent him a love letter. In his new film, “Saturday Night,” a madcap comedy about the 90-minute run leading up to “SNL's” first episode in 1975, the show's famously enigmatic creator is glorified.
Michaels, who has been one of the most important behind-the-scenes comedic forces of the past 50 years, has been placed on the same page as the innovator as people like Steve Jobs and Mark Zuckerberg, the only difference being that he has no personal shortcomings.
He's portrayed as an optimistic young underdog with an incredibly bold vision: a fully live, weekly sketch series starring inexperienced, unrefined unknowns on a deserted island of timelines.
His “This is Sparta!” speech comes during the climax, when Lorne (Gabriel Labelle) is questioned about “Saturday Night Live” by NBC executive David Tebet (Willem Dafoe).
Lorne, finding his confidence in real time, tells a skeptical David that it's like discovering a hot new comedian at a bar in town, or getting swept away by the music at a hidden jazz club.
“It's everything you think is going to happen when you come to town,” says Michaels, 30 at the time. “It's 'Saturday Night.'”
And it is a terrifying thing.
The confrontation of David and Goliath is the best and most grounded scene in Jason Reitman's much-loved film, which had its international premiere at the Toronto Film Festival on Tuesday.
The plot moves along as if the brakes were broken. And, being a tour de frantic, it can be hard to keep up. The gist is that this huge TV hit that spawned countless stars was nearly a disaster that didn't make it to the air. Executives were prepared to air “Tonight Show” reruns instead.
Knowing this is his only chance, Michaels races around 30 Rock and Studio 8H to try and get his little creation started.
He must control his boisterous young stars, who treat the office like a kegger — or worse. John Belushi (Matt Wood, a find) refuses to sign his contract and moves into a bar. George Carlin (Matthew Rhys), the first host, gets lockjaw from snorting too much cocaine.
The set is not yet complete, and dress rehearsal lasted three hours. NBC's Page (Finn Wolfhard) stands outside on 48th Street begging passersby to be spectators.
At the periphery of the arts, there are corporate concerns. The affiliates are in town to decide whether or not they want to air it. And grumbling network stars Milton Berle (J.K. Simmons) and Johnny Carson are threatened by their takeover of the late-night arena.
For a movie only a little longer than an episode of “SNL,” that’s a lot to cover. And the “Noises Off”-style backstage snafus are just a small sample of all the action. But Reitman has it covered expertly, even if the onslaught sometimes jolts us.
The always-on “Saturday Night” might have been something like Joan Cusack’s run at the start of “Broadcast News” that lasted an hour and 45 minutes.
Since the characters don't even get a chance to breathe, let alone speak, we don't learn much more about them than familiar traits. However, Reitman's goal is not to seriously expose that fateful night, but to add energy to the showbiz mythology.
The director said on stage during the premiere that during interviews, statements from real talent about that first show contradicted one another. We can tell, but the absurdity is part of the fun.
On October 11, 1975, Gilda Radner, Chevy Chase and Dan Aykroyd weren't household names yet. They had no real importance in their studio. But during that year, they blew up.
So it's only fitting that in casting the actors for these roles, Reitman chose some of Hollywood's most talented rising stars, people America would soon get to know very well.
LaBelle once again surprises as Michaels, another dreamer, in her role as the young Steven Spielberg in “The Fablemans.”
I never imagined that Cory Michael Smith, who I had seen on stage and in Todd Haynes' films for years, would become such an eccentric and hilarious Chase with a knack for crafting punchlines.
Cooper Hoffman, whose star-is-born moment came in “Licorice Pizza,” brings the same charming spunk to producer Dick Ebersol. And Ella Hunt channels Radner's effortless sassiness.
The number of cast members is sadly too large, so it's not possible to list them all. Some are skilled impressionists, while others succeed in getting to the core of their personalities. Much like the situation after a sketch is cut from an “SNL” episode, there are times when you wish you could see more of some of the cast members.
In any case – and who would have thought I'd be saying this about a man who barely speaks – the real magic here is LaBelle's Michaels. Live from New York, it's Lorna!
