Saturday Night is a brilliant, chaotic love letter to the birth of comedy’s last frontier, capturing the thrill and terror of live television in a way that feels both nostalgic and electric.
From the first frame, director Jason Reitman plunges us headfirst into a world where the stakes feel almost unbearably high, as though each joke, each sketch, each breath could be the difference between success and disaster.
It’s a relentless pace that matches the energy and fear of those early days, where a scrappy crew of unknowns was trying to invent something new on live television. The film isn’t just a story; it’s an experience that’s somehow as thrilling as it is familiar, evoking the same raw ambition that made Saturday Night Live iconic in the first place.
Reitman doesn’t aim for a precise recreation of the events surrounding the show’s debut, and that’s what makes it sing. Instead, he distills the chaos, the camaraderie, and the undercurrent of anxiety that defined the era.
The production design and cinematography work hand-in-hand, conjuring up the cramped offices, the smoky bars, the dimly lit studios where dreams took shape. Every shot has a purpose, every detail feels intentional, and the result is a film that’s immersive, capturing a moment in time without becoming a parody of it.
The ensemble cast is superb, breathing life into characters we feel we know yet showing us sides we’ve never quite seen. The actors portraying John Belushi (Matt Wood), Gilda Radner (Ella Hunt), and Chevy Chase (Corey Michael Smith) in particular bring authenticity without veering into impersonation, walking a fine line that could easily have tripped them up. There’s a vulnerability, a rawness to each character that reminds us these comedy legends were young and uncertain, pushing forward despite their doubts.
But even a well-oiled machine can have a few squeaky gears, and here, the choice of actor for the role of Andy Kaufman and Jim Henson is an odd one. The performance is skillful, capturing Kaufman’s strange, surreal humor and Henson’s quiet, thoughtful demeanor, but actor Nicholas Haun’s 6’ 7” height feels jarringly out of place. In a cast so carefully chosen, his physicality creates an odd visual mismatch.
Kaufman, especially, was an underdog in his time, a figure who seemed to operate on a different frequency. Here, his towering stature clashes with that legacy. It’s a small quirk, but one that pulls you out of the story, if only momentarily.
Despite the misstep, Saturday Night is a triumph. Reitman’s direction is inspired, balancing reverence with a sense of realism that keeps the film grounded. He understands that the magic of Saturday Night Live wasn’t just in the jokes—it was in the risk, the tension, the sense of walking a tightrope and hoping you didn’t fall. And he captures that spirit beautifully, giving us a film that’s as vibrant, funny, and brave as the show itself.
Saturday Night isn’t just a film for fans of SNL; it’s for anyone who understands what it means to dream big and face the uncertainty of whether that dream will come true. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the most remarkable things come from throwing caution to the wind and embracing the chaos.
And in this, Reitman has crafted a film that celebrates not just a show, but a spirit that continues to resonate decades later.
