In a country with little knowledge of the American TV institution, the show landed in a new light. An American and a British critic found plenty to enjoy.
An American view | A British view
Like Stepping Into a Well-Run Starbucks Abroad
By Jason Zinoman in New York
One of the most venerable American comedy traditions is complaining that “Saturday Night Live” is not as good as it used to be, so the first episode of a British version presents a problem: How to gripe nostalgically about something that has only just begun?
And yet, as a longtime follower of what has become our signature sketch comedy institution, I found the promising debut of the British spinoff, which premiered Sunday on Peacock in the United States, eerily familiar. American comedy nerds are well versed in British comedy tradition, as demonstrated by the opening monologue of the host, the “S.N.L.” vet Tina Fey. She proved her bona fides by rattling off quotes from everything from “Monty Python” to “Fawlty Towers” and “EastEnders.”
This show she led, however, resembled none of those British hits so much as an entertaining reboot of the current “S.N.L.,” sticking faithfully to the trusty format that included a topical cold open (President Trump’s voice even made an appearance), a slickly produced fake ad (for a skin care product that makes you look so young your husband will get arrested for pedophilia), a talent-rich cast of young unknowns and a buzzy musical guest (Wet Leg). Even the set design echoes that of Studio 8H, right down to the prominent analog clock.
Lorne Michaels, the creator of “S.N.L.,” is the executive producer here, and you can detect his fingerprints even in more obscure conventions, such as celebrities in the audience asking questions of the host (Michael Cera! Graham Norton!), and saving the most subtle comedy for the pretaped bits and the edgiest for “Weekend Update.”
Its charismatic anchors, Ania Magliano and Paddy Young, are still developing chemistry, but their jokes were solid, zeroing in on Prince Andrew. “Andrew’s new residence, Marsh Farm, is named after the nearby marsh where his body will be found,” Magliano said, her deadpan shifting into a pursed smirk and dancing eyebrows. Michael Che would approve.
From an American perspective, watching “Saturday Night Live U.K.” is like stepping into a well-run Starbucks in a foreign country: comforting and recognizable, with the few departures from the norm magnified. There was none more dramatic in this case than the presence of cursing, which can be a crutch or a useful comedic tool. Tina Fey, turns out, can juice a joke with a hard consonant.
Just because this new show followed a well-worn formula didn’t mean it was a disappointment. Far from it. The sketches were hit and miss, and there were too many jokes leaning on the humor of using Gen Z slang in unexpected contexts (again, both American “S.N.L.” hallmarks), but there were as many, if not more, funny premises than in a typical “Saturday Night Live” episode. And the cast generated enough giddy quirks and displayed range.
Hammed Animashaun had the dry flexibility of a strong utility player. And Jack Shep showed signs of an Ashley Padilla-like breakout, with very funny and nuanced performances as a coy, lip-biting Princess Diana and, in a more bizarre but perceptive sketch, a spoof of the kind of personality type who pretends to be shy to get attention.
Early on, Fey raised the question of why anybody would start a new “S.N.L.” before adding knowingly, “Like so many large-scale American operations these days, no one really knows why.”
She was a perfect first host, because her sharp and savage humor has always seemed to fit nicely in the British tradition. Comparisons between American and English comedy sensibilities always exaggerate the contrast. Despite what you hear, Americans get irony — most of the time, at least. But the internet has surely shrunk the distance in sensibilities.
That said, the great sketch shows that emerged in the shadow of “S.N.L.” (“In Living Color,” “I Think You Should Leave”) have tended to present an alternative. For the British version of “S.N.L.” to work long-term, it will need to move further from the vision of Michaels.o.
There were signs of more eccentricity in the final sketch (typically where “S.N.L.” lets writers take risks), led by George Fouracres, that leaned into jokes about regional Irish dialects. Much of it went over my head, but I didn’t care. It had a gusto and delight in nonsense that found their own funny frequencies.
There were enough good jokes in this premiere to suggest that, given free rein to experiment, these young performers could find their own distinct voice. By that time, we will all have enough to work to kvetch about the good old days of “S.N.L. U.K.”
The Best Sketches Were Good, but They Highlighted the Bloat Elsewhere
By Gabriel Tate in London
Ask ordinary Brits about “Saturday Night Live” and they might mention Bill Murray, Will Ferrell or Amy Poehler. They could bring up “30 Rock.” The terminally online would know “More Cowbell” and Alec Baldwin’s Trump impersonation. A few might recall a recent lapse in judgment about Aimee Lou Wood’s teeth. Yet probably none could pick Michael Che or Colin Jost out of a lineup.
Could a British version, which premiered here on the pay-TV channel Sky One this weekend, help us discover our own Eddie Murphy or Maya Rudolph? Could it reboot the ailing sketch-show genre in a country where the best current-affairs TV comedy comes on panel shows?
It started with an agreeable shambles, hurried on air after a Premier League soccer match overran: a 0-0 draw between Leeds and Brentford with its own blackly comic ennui. In the customary cold open, Prime Minister Keir Starmer (George Fouracres) fretted impotently about his dysfunctional relationship with President Trump before a Gen-Z adviser rode to the rescue. It was as flat and awkward as its target, the most damning indictment coming when the real-world Trump later shared the clip on social media.
A fiasco loomed, until the guest host, Tina Fey (“the youngest person ever to host ‘S.N.L. U.K.”) stepped up to command the traditional opening monologue. Energy and excitement levels spiked; ambition and budget were palpable. Smartly pre-empting and undermining the predictable quibbles — Why do it at all? (“No one really knows.”), Why no British host? (Nobody “would do it.”) — Fey’s intro also shrewdly noted, via the actress Nicola Coughlan, planted in the audience, that “British people tend to root for the failures of others.” By the time Graham Norton led Fey through the legendarily irritating advertising jingle “Autoglass repair, Autoglass replace,” it felt as if the best of both sides of the Atlantic had come together, compromising neither.
And then, the sketches. The ones that went biggest and boldest hit the hardest, like an ad for Undérage, an anti-aging cream for women so effective that people believe their husbands are pedophiles. That wasn’t the only bad-taste gag of the night, but it was probably the best. Hammed Animashaun (the evening’s M.V.P., along with the TikTokker Jack Shep and his note-perfect Diana impersonation) was superb as an obsequious influencer on a film promo junket, whose hand-brake turn — “Why did it suck so bad, all the way through?” — left Fey’s and Shep’s complacent movie stars flailing.
These were skits lean and well structured enough to highlight the bloat elsewhere. One interminable sequence about a bra fitting simply stopped; a cameo from Régé-Jean Page (of “Bridgerton” fame) was apparently a sufficient punchline. Others that appeared to skewer British sacred cows — David Attenborough, Paddington, Shakespeare, the National Health Service — while in reality mocking public perceptions of them looked less canny the longer they dragged on.
One direct lift from the American parent show, “Weekend Update,” worked a treat. (Its format of satirical headlines delivered by news anchors who can’t help cracking up has actually been familiar to British viewers since “That Was the Week That Was” with David Frost in the early 1960s.) The hosts for this section, Ania Magliano and Paddy Young, spared no one, but it was their interview with Captain Birdseye, the comforting fictional figurehead of a British frozen food brand, that leaned hardest into the weirdness, parochialism and profanity that elevate the best British sketch comedy. For anyone concerned that “Saturday Night Live U.K.” was too slick for that tradition, there was a mustache malfunction to keep things real.
As a debut, the episode could be hit and miss. But then, which sketch show isn’t? As the immensely likable cast members settle and share the spotlight more evenly, it may boil down to the weekly host to get that essential traction online.
The next two weeks will feature Jamie Dornan and Riz Ahmed in that role; if we’re down to Mel C or Piers Morgan by Week 8, there’s a problem. While it may take time for, say, Larry Dean or Ayoade Bamgboye to find name recognition in the States, on Saturday their performances gave them a huge boost in Britain.
Jason Zinoman is a critic at large for the Culture section of The Times and writes a column about comedy.
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