Have I Got News For You Doesn’t Have A Mean Bone In Its Body

There was a moment watching the US premiere of Have I Got News For You where I truly felt insane. The panelists, consisting of host Roy Wood Jr., team captains Amber Ruffin and Michael Ian Black, along with guests Robin Thede and libertarian writer Matt Welch, are shown four photos and asked to guess the odd one out. We see photos of Jack Black (played a teacher on-screen), Tim Walz, Lin-Manuel Miranda, and Jon Hamm (all three of whom were actually high school teachers). The answer is revealed, and the audience reacts with the sort of politely intrigued “ohhhh” that someone might have if they were told that the 10th President John Tyler still has a living grandson. It’s not laughter, it’s not even clapter (the comedy phenomenon where jokes receive applause because the audience agrees with the comic, but not laughter). It’s more the reaction you have to being told a fun fact about a koala. Pleasant, yes. Informative, yes. But not really a joke. Why would this be a reaction you’re aiming for on a show that wants to be funny?

While there are things in CNN’s latest attempt to import the concept of the British panel show to US TV that work, Have I Got News For You still appears to be missing one crucial element: meanness. The UK show it’s based on is a long-running British institution (currently about to start its 68th season—yes I know British television seasons are three episodes and a Christmas special long). It has lasted so long precisely because of its way with a cutting remark. While often justifiably critiqued for the overwhelming whiteness of its panels and its lack of changing with the times, it is undeniable that the British version of HIGNFY has a healthy disdain for the politics it comments on. You have to assume that about a program that was once sued for calling a sitting MP a “conniving little shit.” In contrast, the US version seems to want to point out how absurd our political sphere is, but not comment on it with any meaningful passion. Later on in the premiere, Thede makes a joke about vice-presidential candidate JD Vance’s name change, which happened during his childhood when he was adopted by his mom’s new husband. Upon that being revealed to her, she responds, “Oh, now I’m mean.” While I don’t think every show has to be out here engaging in 15–minute Last Week Tonight rants, I do think we don’t have to care about the feelings of a man who called that same family apathetic and lazy in the memoir that made him regrettably famous.

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The resultant effect is a show that seems to sit uncomfortably between genres, a show that wants the “we’re all goofing around” lightness of After Midnight or Whose Line Is It Anyway?, while dealing with the “this world is going to hell” topics of competitors like The Daily Show. Often, the pace of the show is frenetic, with panelists rarely getting more than a joke or two about a given subject off, before they quickly move on to the next game’s topic. Counterintuitively, this might be because the panelists get the answers right too much. Part of the magic of British panel shows is an incredibly simple question being riffed on for minutes at a time, which isn’t really possible on a show where panelists (usually Michael Ian Black) immediately know exactly what word is missing from a headline, or which newsy statement is untrue. It’s hard for any sort of momentum to be built when it constantly feels as if we are attending a trivia night that occasionally has a joke mixed in. The granular focus on the games and the idea of “getting it right” is more of a hindrance to the show’s style, and it leads to panelists interacting less with each other, and more with inanimate headlines.

The show’s momentum (although this could easily change with future guests) is also not helped by having one-fourth of the panelists be someone who is not paid to be funny. I may disagree with Matt Welch’s politics, but it’s not his fault that he’s being asked to riff on the news of the day alongside four gifted comedic performers. At one point during the premiere, Wood Jr. jokingly asks whether we need to apologize to the Taliban and Welch looks seriously into camera and solemnly intones that we, in fact, do not. It may have been my biggest laugh of the episode because it is so fundamentally ludicrous to say on a comedy show, even if it does approach a Dril tweet.

The best parts of this version of HIGNFY come when the performers are allowed to do what they do best. Amber Ruffin’s impression of Trumpworld nightmare Laura Loomer is outstanding. Robin Thede’s entreaty to Lenny Kravitz to come get it whenever he wants is a great use of the format. Michael Ian Black’s whiny voice on “you guys are always ripping off our culture” during a debate on the origins of the name Keisha shows why he made his name in sketch comedy, and Roy Wood Jr. and Thede’s conversation about how House of the Dragon is worth watching because “black people got dragons now” is charming and breezy. It is no accident that all of these moments are when the panelists are least concerned with the points/games, and instead creating a dynamic based on what makes them such talented performers.

Despite all the comedic talent assembled on the panel, however, it’s actually Welch who landed the biggest joke of the premiere. Asked to caption a picture of President Biden looking at his reflection in a mirror, he opts for, “Hello, I’m Joe Biden.” It’s sharp, it’s short, it’s mean. It’s the type of joke that I wish the show permitted its performers to make more often. Politicians from Boris Johnson to Ann Widdecombe (both awful people) have made appearances on the British HIGNFY, knowing that they are there to be made fun of, to be the butt of a vicious joke and show they can take their lumps. Watching the US version, I couldn’t envision JD Vance or any sort of equivalent politician appearing, not because they’d be afraid of how mean the panelists would be, but because I don’t think anyone would care.