A Late-Night Reckoning: How Colin Jost and Michael Che Turned “Weekend Update” Into a Political Rorschach Test.
By the time the laughter settled in Studio 8H, it was clear that something more than a routine comedy segment had unfolded. On a recent episode of Saturday Night Live, Colin Jost and Michael Che used their perch on “Weekend Update” to deliver a brisk, unflinching critique of President Donald Trump and his press secretary, Karoline Leavitt. The exchange—coolly structured, meticulously paced—landed less like a string of jokes and more like a cultural audit, inviting viewers to decide whether satire remains a mirror or has become a hammer.
Jost began with what he often favors: understatement. He laid out the facts of the week with the composure of a news anchor, allowing the contradictions to speak for themselves before puncturing them with a dry aside. Che followed, sharper and more confrontational, accelerating the tempo with jokes that leaned into absurdity. The contrast between them—Jost’s restraint, Che’s provocation—created a rhythm that kept the audience oscillating between knowing laughter and startled surprise.
Trump, a perennial presence in late-night comedy, was treated not as a novelty but as a familiar force whose influence continues to shape political discourse. The jokes zeroed in on the gap between rhetoric and reality, portraying a presidency defined less by policy coherence than by spectacle. Rather than rehashing old caricatures, the segment suggested a fatigue with repetition, as if the comedians were inviting viewers to consider not just what is said, but why it still resonates.
Karoline Leavitt, newer to the national spotlight, became a focal point in a different way. Her public defenses and media appearances were distilled into a handful of lines that highlighted the tension between message discipline and credibility. In the compressed space of live television, Jost and Che framed her role as emblematic of a broader communications strategy—one that prizes loyalty and amplification over clarification. The audience reaction, a mix of laughter and audible murmurs, suggested recognition as much as amusement.
What distinguished the segment was not its cruelty—there was little of that—but its confidence. The jokes assumed a level of audience literacy, a shared understanding of political context that allowed the writers to skip exposition and proceed directly to critique. This is a hallmark of S.N.L. at its best, when it trusts viewers to connect the dots rather than drawing them in bold ink.
Almost immediately, clips of the exchange circulated online, where reaction followed predictable lines. Supporters praised the segment as cathartic, a rare moment when public figures were challenged without euphemism. Critics accused the show of bias, arguing that comedy had crossed into advocacy. Such debates are hardly new, but they underscore the peculiar position late-night satire occupies in American life: dismissed as entertainment even as it shapes perception.
Scholars of media often note that comedy programs have become, for many viewers, a primary source of political information. While Jost and Che would likely resist such a designation, their segment illustrated how humor can distill complex dynamics into accessible narratives. A joke, after all, can smuggle analysis past defenses that would otherwise remain fortified.
There is also the question of impact. Does a late-night monologue change minds, or does it merely energize those already inclined to agree? The answer may be both less and more consequential than either side admits. Comedy rarely converts, but it can clarify. By highlighting inconsistencies and exaggerations, it offers viewers a lens through which to reassess familiar claims.
In the days following the broadcast, the segment continued to trend, not because of a single punchline but because of its cumulative effect. It felt, to many, like a summation—a reminder that political narratives are sustained as much by performance as by policy. In that sense, “Weekend Update” served as a kind of civic footnote, capturing the mood of a moment when skepticism and exhaustion coexist.
As the season progresses, Jost and Che will undoubtedly return to safer terrain: oddball headlines, bipartisan absurdities, the reliable release of laughter without consequence. But this episode will linger as an example of what happens when satire aligns timing, context, and confidence. For a few minutes on live television, comedy did not merely comment on politics. It asked viewers to consider how much they have come to accept—and why they still laugh.
