John Mulaney Aced His Oscars Audition At The Governor’s Awards, Clearing The Path To Become The Oscars Host We’ve Always Dreamed Of

Maybe it’s because we were all still reeling from Jo Koy’s cringeworthy Golden Globes monologue, and it was simply nice to see someone else up there who knew what he was doing. Or maybe it’s just an idea whose time has come. Either way, John Mulaney’s pitch-perfect performance as host of the (non-televised) Governors’ Awards last week was met with a boisterous response when video of his monologue was posted online (drawing over 1MM views on YouTube, impressively). Thousands of voices came together on social media to offer the same message of hope: Ladies and gentleman, we have found our Oscar host of the future.

Jimmy Kimmel has already been announced as the returning host of the 2024 Oscars, which will be held on March 10. It will be his fourth time on the stage, and he has done a fine job, although when his era of hosting concludes, he’ll likely be remembered for deftly navigating the Best Picture screw-up of 2017 rather than any great jokes or bits. He has provided a steady, comforting presence, but he’s also reaching a saturation point. If he were announced as the host of next year’s Oscars, I can imagine a collective groan of disapproval from the virtual crowd.

It’s a tough gig, but Mulaney proved himself capable of handling its intricacies with aplomb. Too many hosts simply turn their monologue into a roast—call it the Gervais model—which tends to lose the room very quickly. Losing the room doesn’t necessarily mean losing the audience at home, but it can cause the host to panic, like Jo Koy did at the Globes. That’s when it’s really over. The proper tone is a delicate balance of mockery and reverence. You need a host who isn’t afraid to poke fun at the attendees but who also displays a genuine appreciation for film. The crowd needs it, and so does the viewer at home. Too often we have had to groan through jokes from a host who really doesn’t like movies, or at least pretends not to in some misguided attempt to win over an imaginary audience who is only vaguely interested in cinema and yet has for some reason dedicated three hours of their weekend to watching a show celebrating it.

Mulaney had something for everything at the Governors’ Awards, going after the artists, the industry, and the ceremony itself with surgical precision, while also leaving space for the winners to bask in the appreciation of their peers. His joke about Maestro walked the line perfectly: “Bradley [Cooper] worked for six years to do six minutes of accurate conducting. May I say something, dude? That is very cool. Just FYI,  none of us know what accurate conducting looks like. You could have literally done anything.” Somehow, Mulaney, a gentile, also pulled off a brilliant two-part Jew joke about honoree Mel Brooks: “Or as anti-Semites call him, Exhibit A. Do you know the guy who did the prosthetic nose for Maestro? He did Mel’s entire face and body and personality for the last 97 years.” He even managed to rib the non-famous nominees, like editor Carol Littleton, who “edited The Accidental Tourist, Swimming to Cambodia, and E.T., which before she got to it was called Extra-Terrestrial.”

And then there was his coup de grace: “Here’s what a great actor Angela Bassett is. She got an Oscar nomination for a Marvel movie. That’s like getting a Pulitzer Prize for a Reddit comment.” As important as the joke itself was the cutaway to Robert Downey, Jr., doubled over in laughter, falling into Christopher Nolan’s lap. It’s a punchline that might not have played as well a few years ago, or even last year. But 2023 was the year the Marvel wave crested, and Mulaney, a consummate host, was perfectly attuned to the moment.

In countenance and demeanor, he seems tailor-made to be a perennial awards’ show host; neither an insider nor an outsider, but rather a pure comedian who is equally beloved by fellow comics and casual fans. The only question is: What took so long for him to become a serious contender? He showed his talents when he co-hosted the Independent Film Spirit Awards in 2016 and 2017 with his longtime collaborator Nick Kroll, but apparently no one among the awards show elite thought he was ready for primetime. Perhaps he didn’t have the right pedigree?

As a writer for Saturday Night Live, he achieved a rare level of fame there, collaborating with Bill Hader on the character of beloved Weekend Update correspondent Stefon (in interviews, Hader often mentioned that Mulaney would put new jokes on the cue cards just to make him crack up on camera). There’s a parallel dimension in which Mulaney himself hosted Weekend Update, used his success there to get a late-night talk show like Fallon did, and then used that platform to get into the host conversation, like Carson, Letterman, and Kimmel before him. The network that airs the ceremony often chooses a host from their stable of talent, which is partly how Kimmel has landed the gig so often (ABC airs both his show and the Oscars). Mulaney, whose only foray into network television was his infamous, swiftly-canceled sitcom in 2014-15, was never in the right position to be chosen for the gig.

Perhaps it’s better for all of us that he waited. Mulaney has matured into a steadier presence since his much-publicized stint in rehab, and steadiness is perhaps the second-most important attribute for any Oscars host (besides being funny). They need to be quick on their feet and able to handle any curve balls thrown their way. In his pre-rehab career, he was just as hilarious, but he often seemed nervous and on edge (it’s not hard to guess why). Would he have inspired confidence? Would we have wanted to see him pacing back and forth onstage, sweating bullets, and ranting about strange characters from his childhood? Okay, maybe, but Mulaney seems humbled now, and the jokes he makes at his own expense (“For those of you who don’t recognize me from the Tuesday night AA meeting in the Palisades, I’m John Mulaney”) make the ones he lobs at the stars in the audience feel more good-natured. He has fallen on his face in public, reckoned with his own mistakes, and come out the other side a better, happier person. 

How could anyone get mad at him for a Barbie joke?

Noah Gittell (@noahgittell) is a culture critic from Connecticut who loves alliteration. His work can be found at The Atlantic, The Guardian, The Ringer, Washington City Paper, LA Review of Books, and others. He is currently writing a book on baseball cinema that will be published in spring 2024.