The trailer for “Lorne,” Morgan Neville’s documentary portrait of Lorne Michaels, the creator of “Saturday Night Live,” promises that viewers will get to “Discover The Untold Story Of The Legend,” hyperbole so over-the-top that it practically takes one’s breath away. Not the “Legend” bit; having created the show, guided it through various ups and downs over its astonishing 51-seasons-and-counting (save for a five-year sabbatical in the early 1980s) and becoming one of the key influences, both good and bad, in contemporary comedy in the process, he is certainly deserving of that designation.
However, the notion that the saga of Michaels and his show could be considered an “untold story” is pretty rich, having been the subject of countless newspaper and magazine articles, a couple of books solely dedicated to the show’s history, not to mention the fresh glut of specials, retrospective interviews and a print biography on Michaels himself as part of the omnipresent promotional campaign surrounding the show’s recent 50th anniversary. “Untold story?” As someone doing their imitation of Michaels might say, “R-i-i-i-i-g-h-t.”
Using commentary from many of the famous faces who have found themselves in Michaels’s increasingly rarefied orbit over the decades, animated sequences and, of course, any number of clips from the show, the film charts both the history of the show and the man behind it all. Interspersed with all of this are some behind-the-scenes glimpses of the show’s production schedule shot over the course of the last few seasons, from the initial meetings with the hosts to the weekly process of taking something like 50-60 possible sketches and winnowing them down into a 90-minute show and then, often as not, changing things up dramatically in the few hours between the final dress rehearsal on show day and the actual live broadcast. Although Michaels seems initially disdainful about having cameras around to capture it all, he offers plenty of observations of his own as he serenely presides over the carefully controlled chaos he began back when Gerald Ford was still president.
On a basic level, the film is entertaining enough, but anyone hoping for a particularly fresh or innovative take on the show or its creator is probably going to come away feeling a bit let down. Most of the reflections from former/current show workers are more than respectful, and even the snarkier bits are particularly biting, as if no one wants to risk riling Michaels in any way. That includes Neville, who pretty much avoids any potentially discomfiting topics—including a work environment that has been described by many over the years as being toxic and the show’s long-standing issues regarding making way for comedic voices beyond those of white men (though this has improved slightly in recent years)—presumably to ensure the continued participation of Michaels. Even the behind-the-scenes glimpses of the production process are not particularly revelatory and seem to be there mostly to get more famous faces (including Timothée Chalamet, Emma Stone, and Caitlin Clark) into the mix.
The results are so antiseptic that the film feels more like the execution of a meticulous promotional campaign laid out by others and merely carried out by Neville than something toiled over by an actual filmmaker. (The hands-off aesthetic makes more sense when you consider that this is no less than the third pop-culture documentary, following the equally unedifying “Man on the Run” and “Breakdown: 1975,” that Neville has released in the last six months.)
As for Michaels himself, our glimpses of him either at work or offering his observations to Neville’s cameras doesn’t exactly alter the already-ingrained notions of him that have been perpetuated in the media over the years of the always-in-control power player who knows more than anyone at any given time about practically anything (so ingrained, in fact that there are times when he seems to be doing his own imitation of Mike Myers doing his imitation of Dana Carvey imitating him when he speaks) and he dashes off anecdotes and bon mots with the kind of careful practice that reminds you that he did start off as a performer before moving behind the scenes.
In fact, the most interesting moments are the rare ones that remind us he’s not infallible. These include a montage of moments from his performances with onetime partner Hart Pomerantz that show him breaking up in the middle of sketches to his recounting of “The New Show,” a failed 1984 attempt to reconceive “SNL” as a taped prime-time series. There is also a neat bit where Michaels watches a dress rehearsal that isn’t going well and tries to track down a throat doctor for the increasingly raspy host, Ryan Gosling. If there had been more moments like this, “Lorne” might have actually stood out amongst the other products of the “SNL” historical-industrial complex. But at least we get a chunk of footage dedicated to the massive farm in Maine where Michaels goes during the weeks the show is off to restore himself and raise blueberries instead.
“Lorne” is not necessarily a bad movie; it’s well-produced, well-paced, and will no doubt go down well enough on streaming. If you haven’t already gorged yourself on examining the history and legacy of both the man and his show, you might find it to be somewhat edifying. However, if you are one of those hardcore fans who have gobbled up every bit of existing ephemera over the decades, you are likely to come away from it feeling slightly disappointed by the pro forma tone that permeates the entire project. By the end, I suspect many of them will find themselves wishing that the proceedings could have been interrupted by the arrival of the TV Funhouse dog, chased by a cartoon Lorne growling, “Come back here with my hagiography,” and replaced with something a little more challenging and a little less worshipful than this.
