The penultimate episode of Saturday Night Live’s 51st season opens in a quiet bar in Washington DC. Secretary of war Pete Hegseth (Colin Jost) bursts in for his usual, a shot of beer dropped in a pint of whiskey (“a reverse Irish car bomb”). He’s happy to be some place he won’t run into anyone from work since, “none of Trump’s people like drinking as much as I do.”

Right on cue, he runs into Trump-appointed supreme court justice Brett Kavanaugh (Matt Damon), who orders his usual: three Buds and six Jamesons (“a six-three decision”). The two celebrate their mutual accomplishments – starting a war and ending abortion, respectively – before opening up about their fears.

For Hegseth, it’s the possibility that the war in Iran will end soon: “It’s like I took a bunch of BlueChew and didn’t bang anyone. Like, okay, I guess I’ll just watch Seinfeld bricked up.” Kavanaugh, meanwhile, is lonely, missing his boys club: “PJ, Tobey, Squee, Gangbang Gregg, Dr William Cosby.”

They’re then joined by the other notable drinker in Trump’s circle, FBI director Kash Patel (Aziz Ansari), who arrives toting a bottle of his personalized, self-branded bourbon (“Somehow, this is a real thing that I, the FBI director, had made. This is real!”). Kavanaugh lets them in on a secret: the supreme court is going to allow Trump to run for a third term. The trio celebrate by joining together in a rendition of Chumbawamba’s boozy party anthem Tubthumping (I Get Knocked Down).

As has happened in the past with SNL’s mockery of buffoonish political figures – see Will Ferrell’s George W Bush – amplifying their buffoonery has the unintentional effect of making them more likeable and relatable. Jost’s Hegseth is close to that point, especially here, where his alcoholism is made to look more fun than pathetic. Also, while no one expects SNL to focus on rape jokes, the fact that both Hegseth and Kavanaugh have been accused of sexual assault while drinking, and yet there’s no mention of that here, feels cowardly on the part of the show.

Damon takes center stage for his third go-around hosting, which strikes him as “a little low, considering I’ve been around for, like, 30 years”. After promoting his new blockbuster, The Odyssey, which comes out “not this weekend, not next weekend, but nine weekends from now”, he wishes everyone a happy Mother’s Day. Breaking from the treacly tradition of flying in the casts’ moms – “that was going to again happen this year, but then Spirit Airlines shut down” – Damon has to break it to everyone watching that they won’t be appearing tonight. One creepy guy in the audience is especially upset that Marcello Hernández’s very attractive mother won’t be there, although she does quickly show up before being whisked away by her son. Damon records a video message for anyone who hasn’t gotten a gift for their mom yet, which he uses to promote The Odyssey again.

Then, Damon stars as a nonplussed navy commander in a Godzilla movie. Every new bit of information about the giant monster results in his spitting whatever food or beverage he’s consuming – water, coffee, thick green juice, “runny, lumpy yogurt” – into the face of one unlucky soldier (Mikey Day). Eventually, the rest of the crew get in on the fun, leaving the very game Day completely soaked in backwash.

Especially made for mothers, Mom the Movie is the first film “completely devoid of conflict, suspense, and dramatic tension”. Not only does the story feature everything a mother could want – appreciative kids, a clean house, Matt Damon as the husband – it’s also “designed with the understanding most moms will fall asleep after 23 minutes”. Particularly sharp is a gag about all the characters wearing name tags “so the audience could track who was who”.

At a neighborhood cookout, three Italian wannabe tough guys (Damon, Hernández, and Kenan Thompson) trade stories about getting their asses kicked. Their assailants include an elderly man in a wheelchair, a parish priest, and their own wives and children. Their humiliations become increasingly convoluted and bizarre: one of them is forced to carry a quarter in his mouth at all times in case his bully comes by for a “quarter check”, while another recounts being “captured” by a guy at a bar and systematically broken down over the course of months until he becomes the man’s dog. You can tell the audience has no idea how to react to the sketch, but credit to the cast – especially Hernández – for committing to the bit.

An advertisement for Tidy Care kitty litter explains how its crystals change color to alert pet owners of potential health hazards. Damon and Ashley Padilla’s happy couple become unnerved to discover the blue crystals, which the ad’s omnipresent narrator reluctantly reveals is the color for human urine. At first, they suspect their awkward teenage son is peeing in the litter box, but by the end they’re accusing one another. The ad’s bright sheen and bouncy music make the growing menace of the story even more unsettling. Probably the best commercial sketch of the season.

On Weekend Update, Jost welcomes back conservative pundit Tucker Carlson (Jeremy Culhane) to give his thoughts on last week’s Met Gala. Carlson feigns confusion and peddles outrage (“Come on everybody, let’s all prance around in our $100,000 clown outfits and watch the American empire crumble”) while tossing out his favorite catchphrases – “What are we doing? What’s going on?”, “That’s the rule, that’s the goal now” – and squealing in high-pitched laughter. As with his earlier turn as Carlson, Culhane has the voice and mannerisms down pat, but his characterization is years behind the times. The man he’s playing is the Fox News culture warrior of three years ago, whereas these days Carlson – while still a bigoted fearmongerer – is more focused on criticizing Israel and Trump’s neo-con agenda.

Later, Jost welcomes on Jane Wickline. Attempting to make up for her chronic lateness, she performs a new song dedicated to everyone she’s ever made wait for her, the lyrics of which are unreservedly unapologetic (“It’s not that I don’t respect your time, it’s that looking at my phone is more important than our friendship”). Unlike most of Wickline’s songs, which usually take time to get the live audience on board before inevitably winning them over, this one hooks them from the start. There’s an especially clever gag that sees her introduce some backup dancers, only for them to show up after the song is over.

Next, Damon plays a substitute high school teacher celebrating the final class of his assignment by throwing a dance party for his horrified, embarrassed students. Undeterred by their refusal to participate, he carries on by himself until the song ends, at which point he casually states “I might actually head out a little before you guys … maybe move, maybe a different country.” When he’s gone, the students try to process what’s just happened, including one furious teen (Andrew Dismukes), who we learn is the sub’s son. It’s rare that SNL goes full into cringe comedy, so kudos to them (and Damon, who plays a perfect dancing fool), for pulling it off so well.

Finally, we get a scene from “the crumbling marriage of two auctioneers”. Damon and Sherman play said married couple, who bitterly argue in fast-paced, alliterative auction speak: “Weeelll, look who comes crawling home late as sin. Where have you been, been, been, been, been, been, been, been, been, been? I’ve been waiting here for two, two, two, three, three, three, can I get a four, four, four, five, five, five, five, five, five hours!” A fantastically offbeat premise and a feat of true verbal virtuosity from all involved.

Damon shined in this excellent episode, which was chock full of simple but surprisingly offbeat conceptual sketches. SNL would do well to lean more into this style of evergreen verbal and physical comedy, as opposed to trying so hard to keep up with cultural trends. Regardless, if it can stick the landing next week, season 51 will have one of the stronger back halves of any season in recent memory.