Meghan Markle and Prince Harry, usually meticulous about managing their public image, found themselves publicly humiliated in real time on national television. Scarlett Johansson delivered a searing monologue during her appearance on Saturday Night Live, and this wasn’t your run-of-the-mill comedic roast—it was a full-scale cultural takedown.
The Sussexes weren’t just mocked; they were outright lambasted, and it left them more than just embarrassed—it reportedly made them furious. Scarlett didn’t mince words. She accused them of being fame-obsessed, constantly casting themselves as victims, and transforming their lives into an endless saga of personal drama. Meghan’s royal wedding, for instance, was turned into a three-season Netflix production—an example that had the live audience roaring with laughter, signaling that many viewers are tired of their self-important narrative.
What made it even more shocking was the revelation that Meghan’s team allegedly attempted to screen the jokes in advance. NBC, however, refused to comply, airing the monologue in its entirety and without censorship. That defiance alone speaks volumes—Hollywood no longer seems interested in upholding the Sussexes’ carefully spun tale of royal woe. Scarlett's monologue took particular aim at Archewell, their supposed humanitarian organization, which has faced criticism for investing more in public relations than in meaningful charitable efforts. One of the sharpest jokes likened it to a place where their egos go to detox, only to return even more inflated. It was a brutal punchline that hit uncomfortably close to the truth.
The fallout wasn’t limited to the stage. Reports from behind the scenes suggested Meghan was incensed, describing the monologue as disgusting and sexist. Yet the satire was rooted in public perception, not personal attacks. The truth is that the narrative of Meghan and Harry as misunderstood, noble outcasts is rapidly disintegrating. Industry insiders are now reportedly branding them as box office poison, a stark contrast to the warm embrace they once received from Hollywood. One particularly scathing jab highlighted Harry’s contradictions—living in California, criticizing his royal relatives in a best-selling memoir, sidestepping taxes, and yet refusing to become a U.S. citizen. Wanting the benefits without accepting the responsibilities made him an easy target.
Scarlett Johansson’s performance wasn’t just a series of well-crafted jokes—it marked a turning point. The media fortress the Sussexes built to shield themselves from scrutiny is visibly crumbling, and this time, they can’t control the story. The laughter wasn’t with them; it was directed at them, and that changes everything. If Meghan and Harry believed they had permanent sanctuary in Hollywood, this was a reality check. Their grand exit from the monarchy once looked like a bold leap into celebrity, but now it resembles a miscalculated move. The spotlight remains, but the sympathy is gone—and the joke, unmistakably, is on them.
