Scot Bertram

SNL Gets a New Trump, the Cast Swells, and Kate McKinnon Says Goodbye

Season 47 of Saturday Night Live was defined by overpopulation, inertia, and hints of a creative reset. While it wasn’t a creative renaissance, there were signs of potential – new cast members, fresh writers, and a few flashes of promise – amidst a bloated and often sluggish season.

This season came on the heels of a historically weak run marked by cast members overstaying their welcome. SNL fielded a record 21 cast members in Season 47 – an unmanageable size that led to entire episodes where key players were absent or underused. Trying to track screen time became pointless, as many cast members simply disappeared from week to week.

Adding to the chaos, 13 new writers were brought in during the season, alongside the existing writing team, creating a situation where quantity far outweighed quality. Despite all this creative manpower, standout sketches were rare. While a few segments earned praise, very few approached classic status.

Among the most promising new additions was James Austin Johnson, who debuted a pitch-perfect Donald Trump impression—one of the season’s highlights. Unlike Alec Baldwin’s portrayal, which often relied on direct quotes, Johnson’s Trump was dynamic, surreal, and writerly. His use of a Pardon the Interruption-style rundown in one cold open was particularly inspired, showcasing a strong comedic mind behind the impersonation.

Other newcomers included Sarah Sherman, a surreal and offbeat performer with a distinct voice, and the video trio Please Don’t Destroy, who emerged as a new Lonely Island-style presence with quirky, self-contained digital shorts. Their inclusion hinted at what a new SNL might look like if it made more room for alternative comedic voices.

Still, the season’s problems were systemic. Long-tenured cast members like Kate McKinnon, Aidy Bryant, Cecily Strong, and Kyle Mooney had all been on the show for nearly a decade, far beyond the point of diminishing returns. Their continued presence, while understandable during COVID-era production lulls, contributed to a feeling of creative stagnation. McKinnon, in particular, became the subject of debate. While celebrated as an all-time great, her final seasons were marked by uneven performances, weak political impressions, and increasingly self-indulgent sketches.

Indeed, political sketches weighed the show down. The season opened with episodes overwhelmed by hot takes, particularly in response to the leaked Roe v. Wade decision. The “Goober the Clown” Weekend Update commentary—where Cecily Strong used a clown persona to discuss her abortion—was emblematic of the show’s struggle to balance personal sincerity and comedy. Critics hailed it, but audiences received it with uncomfortable silence. The sketch reflected a broader trend: Update and cold opens were often written with the assumption that the entire audience shared the writers’ progressive politics, which alienated viewers who didn’t. The idea that conservatives live in a “bubble” became a punchline, even as the show often failed to self-examine its own ideological insularity.

Weekend Update itself remained stable but uninspired. Colin Jost and Michael Che continued their run, but neither seemed interested in pushing the format forward. Jost’s political commentary often veered into lecture territory, while Che’s jokes remained cutting but repetitive.

Monologues, meanwhile, underwent a subtle shift. Gone were the elaborate musical numbers; most hosts now delivered quiet, personal anecdotes aimed at winning audience warmth. The shift was welcome in theory but often dull in execution, with few memorable openers.

Despite these disappointments, the season was not without bright spots. Johnson’s Trump, the Please Don’t Destroy videos, and some sharper satire hinted at a better version of SNL just over the horizon. The looming departure of many long-time cast members (including McKinnon, Bryant, Mooney, and Pete Davidson) by season’s end set the stage for a long-overdue shakeup. Davidson’s tenure was particularly odd—more known for tabloid headlines than on-screen impact—but his farewell was treated as a major event.

Season 47, ultimately, was the end of one era and the faint beginning of another. A house overloaded with tenants finally began to show signs of clearing out. Whether that clearing makes room for meaningful growth in Season 48 remains the hope—“promise” is there, if only the show can make space for it.

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