Scot Bertram

Shane Gillis Returns, Nate Bargatze Shines, and Old Faces Give SNL New Life

After the prior handful of seasons that felt like a slog, Saturday Night Live came to life in Season 49 in ways we’d almost forgotten the show could manage.

Much of that spark came from what we half‑jokingly labeled the “return of the patriarchy.” For nearly a decade the women quite deservedly owned the spotlight, but this year the men finally pushed their way back into focus. Andrew Dismukes vaulted from dependable role‑player to genuine breakout, Marcelo Hernandez kept the featured bench lively, and James Austin Johnson proved he can do far more than a killer Donald Trump. When Kenan Thompson is still humming, JAJ is nailing every oddball character, and Bowen Yang is used surgically instead of omnipresently, the show suddenly has a sturdy spine again—something it hasn’t had since the Hader/Samberg days.

The host roster amplified that energy. Stand‑ups absolutely ruled: Pete Davidson opened capably; Shane Gillis handled controversy and sketches with equal ease; and Nate Bargatze turned Episode 3 into an instant classic. From Bargatze’s laid‑back monologue to the “George Washington Explains Weights and Measures” sketch, the episode landed in our all‑time top ten – rare air for a first‑time host.

Season discourse inevitably orbited the Gillis return. We treated it neither as the apocalypse nor as anti‑woke deliverance; it was simply a solid show with a gratifying “High‑School Reunion” centerpiece that proved why a big, bellicose utility player would have mattered back in 2019, when Gillis was hired and fired within days. The night’s real tragedy was “Limu Emu & Doug,” a wickedly dark Liberty Mutual spoof that got cut for time even though it might have been the episode’s best sketch. Still, seeing Gillis share a set with Bowen Yang—no explosions, just laughs—helped puncture the tired narrative that comedy crowds can’t handle friction.

Credit the writers: the staff stayed intact yet felt newly adventurous. They tailored showcases for returning legends without letting cameos swamp the cast. Maya Rudolph, Kristen Wiig, and Kate McKinnon all headlined sleek evenings that trusted current performers to play opposite the alumni rather than watch from the sidelines. Equally refreshing were topic choices: a CNN round‑table fretting over Biden’s age gave half the cast first‑time political impressions; a Columbia‑protest cold open centered on tuition‑paying parents instead of campus slogans; Ego Nwodim fronted a brutal teacher‑burnout PSA that finally acknowledged how COVID warped classrooms.

Politically, Johnson’s Trump remains the crown jewel—cadences so granular they’re practically phonetic archeology—but we kept wishing the show would build fuller games around him instead of defaulting to five‑minute non‑sequitur monologues. Weekend Update showed similar split personality: when Che and Jost fire joke‑missiles at each other the desk sings, yet a tossed‑off “what even is debanking?” joke reminded us the segment can still drift into Manhattan obliviousness.

Quibbles aside, the season pulsed with craft. Pre‑tapes such as “White Men Can Trump,” “Lake Beach,” and Please Don’t Destroy’s steady stream of absurdity proved the video unit is healthy. Musical bookings—Foo Fighters, Olivia Rodrigo, Kacey Musgraves—felt curated instead of algorithmic.

So, yes: Season 49 wasn’t flawless. Cold‑open lengths crept upwards, Update sometimes spun its wheels, and the final run of shows cooled after April. But the broader story is resurrection. The show experimented, rediscovered ensemble balance, and reminded us how joyful a live sketch hour can be when writing, casting, and hosting are all striving upward at once.