I have a rough rule of thumb when choosing a book to read: anything over 400 pages is just, as the kids say, TMI. More than that tells me that the author simply couldn’t decide what to take out, so they left everything in, say, the subject’s great-great grandfather came to America in 1852 and started a butcher shop on 129th Street and 102nd Avenue in Brooklyn. Nobody cares!
That’s why I almost didn’t pick up Lorne, subtitled The Man Who Invented Saturday Night Live. At just shy of 600 pages (not including 40 pages of index and notes), I wondered if Lorne Michaels was worthy of the kind of tome usually reserved for giants of history.
But as it turns out, Lorne is worth it. OK, I might have trimmed 20 pages, but that’s about it. There is so much to tell, and author Susan Morrison doesn’t miss a thing.
There is a lot of Canada in Lorne. Those of you with long memories (i.e. old) may recall his Hart and Lorne Terrific Hour (1970-71), a hip and off-kilter comedy show where he teamed up with Hart Pomerantz, which I remember enjoying. The public did, too, until the CBC summarily cancelled it. Finding nowhere to go in Canada, Michaels drifted south, writing gags for corny shows like a Phyllis Diller comedy hour, and hip shows like Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In. After many ups and downs, Michaels created Saturday Night (not called ‘Live’ at first, because sportscaster Howard Cosell had a variety show called Saturday Night Live, which quickly flopped).
Saturday Night was not an immediate hit. Some of the reviews were scathing, and NBC was at best lukewarm to the series. But Michaels, from the very first season, showed his extraordinary eye for talent, signing Chevy Chase, John Belushi, Gilda Radner, Jane Curtin, and Dan Aykroyd; when Chase left after the first season, his replacement was Bill Murray. The cavalcade of stars would continue for 50 years, every one of whom was chosen by Michaels (except for seasons 6-10, when he quit – or was fired – from the show). And it’s not just the talent that comes under Michael’s gaze; in his entire tenure with the show, not one sketch has aired without his approval.
SNL has been the subject of at least two other major books (A Backstage History of Saturday Night Live; Live from New York: The Complete, Uncensored History of Saturday Night Live), so some of the stories will be familiar to fans. What makes Lorne different is, well, Lorne. Morrison spent hours talking to the famously cryptic producer (she calls him “gnomic and almost comically elusive”), gaining insights into his character. Morrison was also given free rein to talk to SNLers past and present, who were not afraid to say how they felt about the boss. (A famous name dropper, staff didn’t know when he mentioned his friend ‘Paul’ whether he meant Simon or McCartney.)
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My favourite part of Lorne was Morrison’s day-by-day, minute-by-minute documenting on how the show is produced. In 2018, she was allowed complete access to the show’s production, from Monday to airtime Saturday. Her reporting makes you realize that it’s amazing that the show gets on the air at all. It does because of (or in spite of) Michaels, who has his unique way of doing things that never ever varies. Even 90 minutes before airtime, sketches are being dropped and changed. (While Morrison was there, one sketch required the props department to spend $5000 on a used Chevy van, and another $5000 to get it into Studio 8H. The sketch never made it to air.)
The live broadcast is chaotic, with decisions being made in real time, yet it comes off on screen as a well-oiled machine. And that is entirely thanks to Lorne Michaels. Could it be more professional, more rehearsed, better written? Sure, but where’s the fun in that? As Lorne has said, SNL doesn’t go on the air because it’s ready, but because it’s 11:30.
