‘SNL’ Cast Evaluation: Kyle Mooney And Beck Bennett

In August 2013, it was announced that Kyle Mooney and Beck Bennett, USC graduates who created comedic videos as members of the Good Neighbor sketch troupe, would be joining Saturday Night Live as feature players. They would wind up being two of six new additions to the cast that year, all of whom were white (which quickly became an issue). Of those six, four wouldn’t advance to a second season.

It’s not surprising that Bennett and Mooney were the two that did, as they were seemingly hired with more of an expectation than the others. Andy Samberg left the show in 2012, after revitalizing the show’s storied video tradition with his Lonely Island colleagues by creating over one hundred digital shorts for the show, including viral hits “Lazy Sunday” and “Dick in a Box.”

Bennett and Mooney created viral shorts as part of Good Neighbor, and were hired along with troupe-mate Dave McCary, who directed them. Together, the three would be expected to do the same at SNL, filling the void left by Lonely Island’s departure. (A fourth troupe member, Nick Rutherford, was hired as a writer the following year, and left after one season.)

The pair debuted on the Tina Fey-hosted season 39 opener. Bennett had a few small roles, and Mooney debuted original character Bruce Chandling, an old school stand-up comic who uses a tired, hackneyed style to mask his depression. Authentically played, the character has since reoccured.

Chandling feeds into old stereotypes of the lonely stand-up comic that are less true today than in years past —the modern stand-up comedy world is far more diverse than just depressed dudes— but any comedian who has done the road has met a Chandling type or two, and the portrayal is based on truth. It also established a melancholy in Mooney’s portrayals that we’d see again.

Their second episode gave us a glimpse of Bennett’s talent for impressions, as his Philip Seymour Hoffman was spot on. Sadly, most likely due to Hoffman’s death in February 2014, we never saw this impression again.

But more important, their second episode gave us our first glimpse of the pair’s video work, and the divide between their sensibility and Lonely Island’s was cavernous.

The sketch, “Miley’s Sex Tape,” takes place in Mooney’s office at the show, where he, shirtless, and host Miley Cyrus, also shirtless (but with a bra), prepare to film a sex tape. Bobby Moynihan and Bennett open the office door, see what’s happening, apologize, and leave. Mooney follows them out, and, in a panic, tells the two he needs their help because Cyrus wants to have sex with him. Mooney then proceeds to explain everything amazing about his situation – that she’s willing to get as freaky as he wants, that she’s his best friend, etc. – as if it’s a problem. Moynihan and Bennett are baffled, telling him to get back inside and have sex with her. By the end, he loses his chance because Cyrus, tired of waiting, has sex with his brother instead – which causes Mooney to exclaim, “he’s so lucky.” End sketch.

The pair had another video on the following week, “Sigma,” where Mooney and Bennett are a pair of frat brothers about to play Beer Pong with two potential pledges. But as they explain the rules, it’s clear they have grander plans. One stage of the game requires a player to whistle a song – a chance, Mooney explains, “for us to understand what makes you a very special and unique person inside of you.” Another stage of the game requires them to design their own roller coaster. “If we like it enough,” explains Mooney, “we put it on the wall.” He then points to a wall filled with crayon drawings and other young child school assignments. Another round gets them a pen pal.

The age difference between Lonely Island and Good Neighbor is slight – members of the former are currently 37 and 38, while Mooney and Bennett are 31 – but the difference in their work is generational. The Lonely Island videos, while covering a wide range of topics and styles, were always solidly joke-based, relying on the silliest possible punchline or visual, and depending on the moments of surprise that lie within any joke. It’s no surprise to learn that the Lonely Island was heavily influenced by the Zucker brothers (Airplane, Naked Gun), as their humor is directly descended.

Good Neighbor’s videos, on the other hand, pay that comedic tradition no mind. Jokes and sight gags often take a back seat to riffs based on character and identity politics – specifically, upending traditional notions of masculinity.

In the Cyrus sketch, the joke was that a man preparing to have sex with Cyrus should be overjoyed. Instead, he hesitates – a thoroughly unmanly position by traditionalist standards. In “Sigma,” set in a frat house – the ever-maligned home of all that is evil and testosterone-based – the expectation, upon seeing pledges and a beer pong table, is that the frat was preparing to get them wasted. Instead, the beer pong is a ruse, merely a device to address deeper concerns of identity and well-being. In both cases, Mooney (and Bennett as well in the second) played a man not only acting against society’s idea of masculine instincts, but in the process, actively questioning its use.

In one sense, the Good Neighbor videos were a logical attempt to match the show’s humor with the changing style presumably preferred by the younger demographic. In another, though, they simply weren’t as funny as the old Lonely Island output.

Audience response online was mixed. One could imagine that a poll of SNL viewers might have discovered split loyalties between the styles of the two troupes.

Personally, I find Mooney and Bennett’s videos lacking. Relying on character and causes over jokes has its place, but it’s reasonable to ask if SNL should be that place. Poignant, personal videos on SNL are hardly without precedent – director Tom Schiller had John Belushi tugging heartstrings in the show’s early years with a video of him as an old man talking about his long-dead castmates – but Bennett and Mooney don’t work that deep. Their appeals to emotion are more soothing and sentimental than earned, and also at times work against logic in a way that impedes the instinct to laugh (i.e. the Cyrus sketch derails as soon as one realizes that Mooney’s protests simply make no sense, given no reason even within the artificial world of the sketch).

It was clear online that a segment of the SNL audience appreciated their work after the fact, but as with their later-aired “Dancing” video —which showed Mooney go from nobody to international dance superstar and back again in two minutes— appreciation after the fact eclipsed the sparse laughter the video received when it aired.

The episode in November that featured “Dancing” however, was a good one for Bennett. Until then, Mooney had been establishing his nerdy/goofy/childlike (or childish, YMMV) comic persona on the show, while Bennett had played more straight-man roles. This week, he displayed a talent for physical comedy with the first Baby Boss sketch, in which he played a genius CEO with the body and mannerisms of a baby – he waddles instead of walks, bang on things he’s trying to grab, and flails his arms in wonder at the sight of anything new. It’s an impressive physical feat, and demonstrated talents beyond what we’d seen from Bennett to date.

While the feedback on their videos was mixed, the pair were fortunate enough to each establish their individual worth early on. Throughout the rest of the season, each one had a few fun characters and impressions – Mooney as Axl Rose, Bennett as Mr. Wizard – but these and the increasingly amateurish shorts failed to impress. By late in the season, even those who had enjoyed their first few videos were increasingly mystified by the aimlessness of their output.

Their second season, the show’s 40th, offered more of the same. They continued producing videos which were a mixed bag at best. “Bad Boys,” from the Chris Pratt-hosted season premiere, was a parody of 90s ABC sitcoms which was apparently funny to some who were fans of those sitcoms. I was not, and found the sketch pointless. “Circus” found Mooney, as he often does, playing a dim interviewer talking to people on the street – in this case, asking about the circus. The sketch was a socially awkward version of “Kids Say the Darnedest Things,” with Mooney’s pauses and deadpan reactions expected to provide the hoped-for laughs, an expectation that didn’t quite come to pass.

Individually, neither distinguished himself with any new impressions or characters. Other than bringing back Baby Boss, one of Bennett’s more memorable roles came in the “Mr. Westerberg” sketch, where workers imitate things they hate about their boss, and Bennett’s take makes it clear that the boss has been having his way with him, sexually. It’s an uncomfortable premise, but Bennett’s oblivious, matter-of-fact sarcasm makes it work.

Mooney’s roles included several that found him playing children, such as the brazen kid reporter who grilled Dakota Johnson about the risqué aspects of 50 Shades of Grey.

The pair also played various bros – “Match’d” from the Woody Harrelson episode, found them trying to sex up game show contestant Cecily Strong with lascivious banter until they learn show host Harrelson is her father – nailing a fraudulent machismo that is so easily deflated.

This season, Mooney has added a Pope Francis impression, playing the Pope as a bro, and Bennett has had several funny leads: one in a commercial for Mitchell’s Fake Cocaine, and other in a bizarre sketch where he plays a dad embroiled in a strange relationship with a music producer who’s pressuring him to record songs.

In a sense, the two have evolved in complementary directions: the long-haired, glasses-wearing Mooney gets typecast as kids, whereas the solidly built, straight-laced looking Bennett often plays the middle-aged dad. The show also seems to have realized that their videos weren’t working, as they’ve been a less frequent presence this season.

Bennett and Mooney have evolved into an odd position. As cast members, they both do reliable work, but cannot be said to have made a lasting impact on the show. Their videos prove them to have a distinctive voice, but distinctive and funny are not the same, and its questionable whether that particular voice belongs on SNL.

At present, the show’s cast of 16 is overstuffed. Should the powers-that-be decide to downsize anytime soon, it’s uncertain whether the pair would be seen as essential. But whatever their future holds, their video work might be better off presented the way it began: on the Internet, where they can find their specific audience without the pressure of having to entertain the masses that SNL, by virtue of being a broadcast network institution, must cater to.

[You can stream new and old episodes of Saturday Night Live on Hulu]

Larry Getlen is the author of the book Conversations with Carlin. His greatest wish is to see Stefon enjoy a cheeseburger at John Belushi’s diner. Follow him on Twitter at @larrygetlen.