Saturday Night Live: “Martin Freeman/Charli XCX”
(Episode 40.09)

Best episode yet of SNL’s 40th season.
Lackluster Charli XCX and Weekend Update co-anchors notwithstanding, Saturday Night Live was in top form with host Martin Freeman (The Hobbit, Sherlock, Fargo). Even without a super-famous A-list American actor charming our socks off, the return of Taran Killam’s Jebediah Atkinson (soon, please, soon), or Beck and Kyle offering a show-saving pre-tape Hail Mary, this episode was sharp, funny, and energetic in a way we’ve not seen since the Bill Hader-hosted episode in September.
Could it be that in Freeman, SNL finds its happy place: an ego-less, TV comedy-reared host, up for anything? Perhaps when the show’s writers and producers are less cowed by the week’s host, they are more comfortable in their own skin. Saturday Night Live is just better with actors like Freeman handling hosting duties—when helmed by people who are better actors than they are celebrities.
Martin Freeman’s opening monologue is workmanlike, almost elegant in its presentation. Freeman handles the material like an old pro, deftly and without the traditional “ohmygodIcantbelieveImhostingSaturdayNightLive!” gush we are accustomed to from first-time hosts. Freeman respects the venue, respects the task before him. In short, he respects the work of being on a live television comedy show. And in this, both he and we are rewarded with a strong episode.
When SNL40 wraps next spring, it’d be a surprise if “Hobbit Office” is not considered the season’s best sketch. Martin Freeman, who played “Tim” on Ricky Gervais’ original BBC-produced The Office, is now The Hobbit’s Bilbo Baggins, and with this inspiration, SNL’s writers have given us a mashup for the ages. The premise, that hero Bilbo earns his keep as a middling, corporate paper sales rep in the Shire, is hilarious. And SNL’s execution is flawless. Granted, one may need to be familiar with Gervais’ “David Brent” to fully appreciate Bobby Moynihan’s brilliant sales manager Gandalf (“Lord of the Reams!”), but the parody is served by its obscurity. It’s funnier for it.
Similarly, the reality show commercial parody “Church” works because its target is so specific. Christmas is the time of year many unchurched people wind up attending a holiday service at their parents’ house of worship. And it can all seem pretty weird: the listless kid reading the liturgy followed by the over-eager woman reading, a sweaty handshake from a kindly old man, the “softest pastor joke followed by the softest parishioner laugh”—the devil is in these tiny details. Even if you can’t directly relate, you get the joke.