Review: Saturday Night Live - James Franco/Muse

I hope you all rolled a towel against the crack of the door before watching James Franco host. This was the most I've laughed at an episode in quite a while, but I am still not entirely sure if it's because watching for ninety minutes gave me a bit of a contact high. Okay, even if you argue that I'm inferring a lot because bits of Pineapple Express are still lingering in my brain, there's no denying Franco was definitely extra-squinty, extra-grinny, and was half-slurring, half-spitting his speech through most of the night.

There was also a lot of making out. No man, woman or tree was safe. Or bong, I guess. Maybe.

This was one of those few episodes where there was a clear willingness to be weird within the writing and a host that can pull off weird. It's a magic combination. Franco did wonderfully and worked really well with the rest of the cast (in some cases, maybe too well). I think the show knew that too, because they wasted no time bringing on Franco, throwing him right into the Lawrence Welk cold open.

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