Skip to main content

Lobster No. 1

We're all still reeling from one skit on SNL this weekend, "Lobster No. 1."

In this skit, a young man joins his friend at a diner. Standard business: The two men have carved gang signs into the baby-changing station attached to the restroom. (Welcome to New York.) The gruff waiter chuckles at one man's wish to replace the fries with the salad; he calls this order "vagina-style." But then something bizarre happens to shoot us out of our Ordinary World. The other young man wants to order the lobster.

This is Maurice getting kidnapped in "Beauty and the Beast"; it's Simba losing his father in "The Lion King." We are plunged into unfamiliar waters. (John Mulaney, an observational comic, has crafted an Enchanted World out of something no one has ever used before--the quandary of the lobster option on a diner menu. "They don't want you to order seafood! Look, they put the word SEAFOOD in quotation marks!" ...You can imagine Seinfeld doing something with this. "Do you ever notice--do you ever look at the diner menu and think, hey, who in his right mind would ever order the lobster?")

Mulaney's stroke of genius is to take his premise to the extreme. The thought of having lobster in a diner is so upsetting, it actually triggers a mid-scale "Les Miserables" revival, right in the middle of the diner. Ordering lobster is so absurd, in this context, it's on par with having actual singing crustaceans, and an actual pro-lobster barricade, similar to something you might see in Paris in the 1800s. OK. The lobster fights for his life. "Who's this guy? Why won't you keep me from that pot? And give our BLT a shot?" The young diner patron is unmoved. An astute writer, Mulaney understands he must up the stakes. So he borrows a scenario--an actual scenario--from Disney's "Beauty and the Beast." There, Belle offers to endure captivity in her father's place. Here, "Clawsette," or Kate McKinnon, says that she will die to save her father. "Boiled, steamed or fried, I'll join the lobsters in the sky." We are truly unsettled here.

Unmoved, the diner patron requires us to up the stakes even more. Clawsette can't win the argument. But a full chorus can. The entire diner staff appears behind a tall stack of chairs, wood scraps, and detritus. "Do you hear the lobster scream? When the churning in your bowels matches the burning of his shell....Lobsters! You don't eat them! In diners!!!" Stunned by the crescendo, the young man relents. There will be no lobster entree. Let's have veal instead. A perfect button: The relieved masses rejoice at the thought of slaughtering a baby cow. And: fade to black.

This is a joy to watch simply because Mulaney is having fun and permitting himself to go uncensored. He has burrowed deep into his own weird soul. We can all see that. But I'd like to offer one more thought. Typically, on "SNL," you'd get a skit about the awkwardness of having lobster in a diner, and there would be some long, tense silences, some mild giggles, and then the scene would putter out. Or: You WOULD get a big musical parody, but the subject would be something topical, such as James Comey's new book, or Trump's Stormy Daniels issue. But to marry the "Les Miz" scenario with something as pedestrian as a diner stand-off: THAT, to me, is the greatness of the skit. THAT is something you do not see every day. Or even every Saturday night. My gratitude to John Mulaney. He has inspired many weirdo writers all over the country, in four brisk minutes. No question!

https://www.eater.com/2018/4/15/17239784/snl-diner-lobster-john-mulaney-les-miserables

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel  Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in  Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's  Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...

The Death of Bergoglio

  It's frustrating for me to hear Bergoglio described as "the less awful pope"--because awful is still awful. I think I get fixated on ideas of purity, which can be juvenile, but putting that aside, here are some things that Bergoglio could have done and did not. (I'm quoting from a survivor of sexual abuse at the hands of the Church.) He could levy the harshest penalty, excommunication, against a dozen or more of the most egregious abuse enabling church officials. (He's done this to no enablers, or predators for that matter.) He could insist that every diocese and religious order turn over every record they have about suspected and known abusers to law enforcement. Francis could order every prelate on the planet to post on his diocesan website the names of every proven, admitted and credibly accused child molesting cleric. (Imagine how much safer children would be if police, prosecutors, parents and the public knew the identities of these potentially dangerous me...

Raymond Carver: "What's in Alaska?"

Outside, Mary held Jack's arm and walked with her head down. They moved slowly on the sidewalk. He listened to the scuffing sounds her shoes made. He heard the sharp and separate sound of a dog barking and above that a murmuring of very distant traffic.  She raised her head. "When we get home, Jack, I want to be fucked, talked to, diverted. Divert me, Jack. I need to be diverted tonight." She tightened her hold on his arm. He could feel the dampness in that shoe. He unlocked the door and flipped the light. "Come to bed," she said. "I'm coming," he said. He went to the kitchen and drank two glasses of water. He turned off the living-room light and felt his way along the wall into the bedroom. "Jack!" she yelled. "Jack!" "Jesus Christ, it's me!" he said. "I'm trying to get the light on." He found the lamp, and she sat up in bed. Her eyes were bright. He pulled the stem on the alarm and b...