knows, Quinta Brunson can get down with a sketch, and tonight the acclaimed showrunner threw herself into her sketches like the pro she is.
The writing wasn’t as strong as it’s been the last several weeks, but Brunson was in there swinging, whether she was expressively miming “Eat my butt” to a fellow motorist or donning male businesswear and playing Chloe Fineman’s boobs like a conga drum. In the monologue, Brunson joked how, in the pre-cast member, but charmingly explained that her current path to her first hosting gig was a lot easier.
In a lesser sketch, the funny hand gestures would be an end to the joke, but the reveal that Brunson’s mom is offering up filthy rejoinders from the back seat is great, as is the final fake-out, where the two drivers appear to be softening their irate name-calling into a potential dinner date, only for Brunson to pull the rug out in an even bigger laugh. Silly and energetic, with some unexpected cleverness. Always a good formula.
For a post-monologue show opener, the men’s room cocaine sketch wasn’t it. With Andrew Dismukes and Devon Walker’s tourists looking to score some coke, the joke that everyone in the club bathroom is holding turns into a litany of “my junk is soooo white” zingers. It’s fine—I dug Quinta coming out of a stall as a tiny male coke dealer with a soul patch, and almost everybody gets a turn to play, “How white is it?” bingo with their boasts about their products’ snow white purity.