For 50 years, Saturday Night Live has been a talent machine, churning out unknown comic performers and transforming them into household names with stunning consistency.
One key secret to that success: the machine has always continued to run, through hot seasons and tepid ones, thanks to a steady supply of sturdy replacement parts.
That well-oiled mechanism will face the latest test of its reliability starting in the New Year. With Bowen Yang set to leave the cast after this weekend, finding a show component as singular as he in the replacement pile may be a daunting challenge.
Because, in many ways, Yang is a talent unlike any previous SNL regular.
He will, no doubt, be sent off into the sunset—more accurately the pre-dawn hours of Sunday—with a shower of warm affection from cast and crew. And likely a dose of regret.
But the time is right. Yang, over his six-and-a-half seasons on the SNL cast, became a breakout star, spreading his presence into a growing roster of films—including the potent Wicked franchise.
Given how much he had going on outside of SNL, it was a minor surprise that he was back for even half of the 51st season.
Hanging around for those early innings may have been a compromise arranged by Lorne Michaels to soften any blow from the pre-season departure of other key players and fan favorites, like Ego Nwodim and Heidi Gardner. Erasing Yang’s presence at the same time as those two other stars might have been more damaging to SNL than most other recent cast exits.
Yang was a groundbreaker in all sorts of ways. Being Chinese-Australian—born in Australia before emigrating to North America as a child—was, of course, a first for the show. And an extremely useful one. Before Yang, if Kim Jong Un appeared in the news, he was impersonated by Bobby Moynihan. Bobby was a funny and great player, but that was only slightly less a stretch than Fred Armisen playing Obama.
Yang’s being gay was not a first; several performers from the LGBTQ community have preceded him.
But Yang took representation to new places, often unrestrained places. Like the sketch he co-wrote to play in with host Harry Styles, which turned official promotions for Sara Lee bakery products into gay-themed Instagram messages replete with explicit gay terms and emojis.
How significant was his impact? Yang was selected No. 2 on Variety’s list of most influential gay artists in Hollywood in 2021.
But he was not at all limited to filling gay roles on the show. He made a mark for his extraordinary range, including impressions ranging from that dead-on Kim Jong Un to a devastating George Santos.
Even better, Yang took on almost any bonkers figure from the news on “Weekend Update,” very often as wildly creative characters in wildly original—and often massive—costumes.
Yang was adept at both slapstick and deadpan, which have always been staples of SNL. He didn’t use the platform for “teaching lessons” about being gay or Asian-American. He went for the laughs, big laughs.
That put him in a category similar to one of the show’s other recent big stars, Kate McKinnon, another gay performer.
Kate’s been gone long enough that she’s already returned as a host.
Yang supplied similar colors of broad, big-laugh characters as well as just plain weird ones. Like the recurring long-haired Dr. Please, inevitably accompanied by a blood-stained assistant.
As with most of the show’s breakout cast members, Yang’s contributions set a sort of tone for his years on the show that might be described as flamboyant silliness. He did it well enough to earn four Emmy nominations for Outstanding Supporting Actor in a Comedy.
What that really meant was that he was noticed.
That’s step one. Step two is anticipated.
Step three is embraced.
All of that is good for the show. Next step, not so much: hired elsewhere.
So where does all of this leave SNL?
The obvious answer is, under more pressure. The current cast has a batch of new names, some of whom have already made a mark (and some of whom haven’t).
It’s always been this way. Featured players slowly find (or write themselves) characters that fit their personae. Unless they don’t. Yang got attention in his first year—and his first Emmy nomination his second year.
Somebody new or new-ish will likely follow that path. Until then, and likely for much longer, Bowen Yang will be missed.
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I agree about Yang’s strengths, but I don’t think that his Emmy noms don’t come with an asterisk. Award shows were under heavy, heavy pressure to be divorced and be less white and less straight and I know Yang didnt play those cards, but he fit both boxes.