Jon Lovitz Headlines "Former SNL Stars" Tour with Tim Meadows and Chris Kattan
Thanks to people who give me Christmas presents, I got to indulge my huge irrational Chris Kattan crush last weekend, admiring his sweet smile, sexy bod, warm brown eyes, and dormant career from a mere 30 feet away.
courtesy of Chandler Center for the Arts
A true fan knows that Kattan's strongest mainstream film performance (except for Monkeybone, so I hear) was his supporting role in Undercover Brother and his most irresistible Saturday Night Live character was the horny yet prudish husband Jim Zimmerman to Cheri Oteri's horny yet delicate wife Laura.
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Speaking as a rational person, I know that Lovitz is, of the three, the closest to being a bona fide actor, with 74 released features (including his masterful turn in A League of Their Own) versus Kattan's 35. Even The Ladies Man is better-constructed than A Night at the Roxbury, and Meadows keeps getting TV shows. (So does Lovitz, if you count being able to see straight-to-syndication Mr. Box Office episodes in the middle of Sunday nights on the CW.)
Despite his repulsive grossness, vicious demeanor, and ability to score senior discounts nationwide, Lovitz is obviously the audience favorite and wraps up his set with virtuoso piano-playing and comic songs delivered in a really lovely voice, unaffected by a sore throat that plagued him during his earlier really disgusting monologue. Shoot, I've always found him funny, so I get it.
The evening contributed to analysis of My Problem with Comedy, which I include only because it might be Your Problem as Well. Not only are comedians performers with a mysterious and easily disrupted process, which makes watching them sometimes unpleasant if not disturbing, I now realize they're boundlessly insecure, especially the male ones, who will say almost anything to try to convince each other that, for example, they aren't gay (even if they aren't, and even if we don't care). It can be, verbally, a really violent and kind of incestuous game.
This was probably obvious to a lot of you already. And maybe it works better on male audiences. I was less offended than merely baffled. Meanwhile, I was one of perhaps only a handful of people who enjoyed Kattan's brief opening performance, which consisted of storytelling more than jokes. I liked hearing about his being shot down by gorgeous movie-star SNL hosts and thinking, "That's okay; we're still doing a Mr. Peepers sketch and I'm going to put my balls in your face."