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With Bad Bunny at the helm, Saturday Night Live relies heavily on performance

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Well, how about  a weekend update: During Bad Bunny's monologue on  Saturday Night Live last night, Pedro Pascal, dressed in a bright blue blazer with no shirt underneath, stopped  to help the Puerto Rican rapper and singer  with his English . Later, in the middle of the soap opera, Mick Jagger showed up at Mount Rushmore in a skit with a curly black  mustache on his face and gleefully punched Bad Bunny and Marcello Hernandez on the head. Lady Gaga then appeared in Spanish on 

  to present Bad Bunny's first song, a nice preview of  future collaborations. 

 All I imagined in this episode was a glimpse of the Kardashians to keep the "Did They Do It?", isn't that it? After Travis and Taylor's performances last week, the party was lively. It's as if the show is making up for the loss of the previous season by giving us so many random, beloved stars. Next week I'll be requesting performances from Beyoncé, Tilda Swinton and Roger Federer.


The evening ended quickly  with a tepid opening, an inevitable rejection of the House's bid for leadership. Mikey Day played a good Jim Jordan, curled up like a fist under a man's suit. The sketch looked promising when Bowen Yang's George Santos entered the office with a mysterious  baby wrapped up where his hallway had melted. Then Chloe Fineman's Lauren Boebert called from the  theater where Aladdin was being shown, but their conversation was interrupted when 

 appeared on the screen looking for a madman. But the writers must have noticed that no one applauded when James Austin Johnson took the stage and Donald Trump left.This man – Trump, of course, not Johnson – is an energy drain, a breathtaking fart. Let Johnson move on to less orange pastures and give the public a break. 

 Apart from his drawing skills, the current VF cover star Bad Bunny has proven to be a great companion. When I saw his monologue, even before Pascal appeared, I felt like I was swallowing a drop of relaxed charisma. “People wonder if I could host this show because English is not my first language,” he said.“I don't know if you know, but I do what I want.” 

 

 And when Pascal, the sexy shaggy dog ​​next to the elegant Doberman Bad Bunny, suggested to the young presenter that he should ingratiate himself with the audience with self-deprecating humor, it worked our Benito  confused. – Um, no connection. What do you think?’ Arrogance isn’t my style, but this guy is right and winking.His fine comedic timing will serve him well in the future.


The program was mostly in Spanish and without subtitles. But the hypotheses of the sketches – of 16th-century explorers trying to impress their Spanish king with their  New World discoveries; a soap opera about feuding siblings in which Punkie Johnson can't utter a single sentence in Spanish; Marcello Hernandez introduces his gringo girlfriend to his disapproving mothers and Tia, played by Pascal and Bad Bunny, all of whom worked despite and because of  language barriers. Hernandez never had  a better night 
. 
 
 Bad Bunny stopped rapping on stage, dripping in leather and diamonds, until the next skit turned into a nun's habit. In an interpretation of the Sisters' Law, Mother Superior Molly Kearney gathered the nuns to inform them that there was a man hiding among them who intended to deflower the convent.The very angry hare smiled under the habit while the other nuns laughed and gasped at the carnal pleasures of this intruder. "You beautiful monster, sex king, just admit what you did!" asked Kearney. And suddenly Jagger reappeared, his unusual discretion abashed. “Okay, I admit it!” he pouted happily. “It was me. I was the one who corrupted these poor women with my lips and my…” he paused for a shimmy, “hips, and I was the one who rang the bell with my pen-us.” This was not the night I saw coming, I tell you.

Before we leave, a groan and a sigh. If Will Smith had been in the audience last night, he would have been jumping out of his seat every few minutes. From  Santos Yang's candid ("Girl, I know Jada's crazy") to Ego Nwodim's parody of Jada Pinkerton Smith on Weekend Update ("Nothing makes me feel stronger than publicly beating up my millionaire husband") - there were too many and too many jokes numerous. ugly and ultimately useless. Pinkett Smith's ubiquity in the press since 
 is now tiring and she's stuck in clickbait hell. But I feel like we blame her for not loving America's old mistress the way we thought she would.
 
 Even the best joke of the evening was stupid. “The New York Liberty won the WNBA Finals this week,” Michael Che announced to applause from the crowd. They  immediately became afraid: “I’m just kidding. Vegas beat them to it, scammers. Someone calls and asks if A'ja Wilson will be available next week.



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