Over the course of five seasons, Bojack Horseman has chronicled, better than almost any other TV series, the idea of loneliness and depression. With the Hollywood (or Hollywoo) satire, it created a transspecies culture and mixed slapstick gags with some heartbreaking revelations in storytelling. So, where exactly could the Netflix show go after almost 50 episodes of brilliant skewering? It decides to get more... real. Over the course of the fifth season, the show decides that the route to go was to find the "rock bottom" point where redemption becomes a little too hard to grasp. As funny as the average episode is, it continues to challenge the very idea of what an animated show with a talking horse protagonist could be. At times, it is surreal, others more an excuse to explore pun-based humor. Whatever the case may be, the world of the series has been building to is one of deep maturity and the insecurity of getting there. It's a powerful experience, and one that's truly unique to the series.
Since we last saw Bojack Horseman (Will Arnett), he has gotten a gig on the new crime series Philbert and began dating co-star Gina (Stephanie Beatriz). Similarly, Mr. Peanutbutter (Paul F. Tompkins) and Diane (Allison Brie) are dealing with a divorce. The show is at odds with the joys of life when so much misery is occurring around them. However, there's a new element that plays into the show's mentality this time around. It's the Me Too movement. As the episodes progress, there's an overall concern about male actors taking credit for their poor behavior. There's consistent humor regarding an actor who tries to reject his past mistakes by becoming a feminist ally, only to continue being a bit clueless as to what it is to be empathetic towards female co-stars. In the world of Bojack, that starts as equal scenes of nudity on Philbert, which he is uncomfortable about. What starts as a gag ends up developing into the central theme of the series as it comes.
It helps that the happy-go-lucky Mr. Peanutbutter has his own series of revelations. After four seasons of being a clueless sidekick who makes aloof comments, he is now officially going through a rebound relationship, of which reveals his interest in dating younger, more impulsive women who don't question his stunted maturity. There's a sadness even in the humor a her dimwitted waitress girlfriend fails to be able to take an order without having to make a return trip just to remember what people ordered in the first place. There's a sense of gleeful ignorance that Mr. Peanutbutter is chasing, even as his feelings for Diane ruminate into conflicted love. She is desperate for some second chance, but is left in a dumpy apartment still working for the men who overlook her. There's already a sense of being defeated that the women face, even on subtle levels that maybe aren't meant as outright sexism.
What's bold about the show is that Bojack and Mr. Peanutbutter are the characters that most people love. They're celebrities with their own style of humor that has made the show pop with life. Yet there's a sense of the show breaking at the seams, having female characters complain about the impulsive and destructive behaviors in ways that reveal just how tough it is to love them. To a certain extent, the love for them is always there - in part built in from their sympathetic TV characters. Even the fact that Bojack is annoyed that his Philbert character mirrors his own reckless life is commented on, but never gets improved. The destructive nature only gets worse, and it leads to a drug trip so heinous that the act of abuse that proceeds from it is played publicly as a goof. Why? Careers need to be saved. Philbert needs to be a hit, or many of people are out of a job. Also, Gina doesn't want to be known as the woman Bojack strangled. Even at the show's most desperate point, there's a sense of covering up the awfulness for the sake of saving face.
The end of the season is one that seems surprisingly sympathetic in spite of the real life counterparts. Bojack is essentially defamed by a notorious act of violence and drug abuse. His revelation that he killed his Horsin' Around co-star only helps him spiral worse. But for all that he's done, should Bojack be redeemed? It's tough to say, especially given that he keeps reaching out for that acceptance, but finding that the only one who could forgive him was himself. Could he possibly do it? The better question coming out of the season is whether any male celebrity who's had a notorious past could deserve any forgiveness. Are they doomed to be, like Gina, the person who strangled someone? It's bold to wonder where season six will go, if it could even get darker - or try to head towards a more optimistic and redemptive show. Whatever the case may be, the show's unforgiving look at the problematic men in an industry more than perfectly reflect the ongoing conflicts that many face.
With everything that has been done, it's still hard to truly hate Bojack, especially since his self-loathing reveals some form of seeking change. He's a tragic figure. In the season's best episode, "Free Churro," he recalls at a funeral how his mother failed to acknowledge him. In a lot of ways, the lack of seeing each other is reflected throughout the rest of the season. Does Bojack see the pain that he's causing others? Is Mr. Peanutbutter able to see how he's harming himself with younger girlfriends? There's a lot that the audience can see while the characters can't. It becomes sad to not only explore their emptiness, but also try to understand why they can't become a better version of themselves.
It would be easy to just run down all of the reasons that the series is hilarious as well. After all, there's Todd's (Aaron Paul) sex robot Henry Fondle who comes (no pun intended) to run an entire network through misinterpreted sexual innuendos. There's consistent sight gags that warrant having the remote at hand. Even when the subtext is full of powerful reflection, an average episode also requires you to see the magic on screen, understanding the gimmicks and puns that fill this world with an absurdity that balances out the sadness perfectly. It's the type of humor that rewards giving the show a few additional views, just to understand the drama as well as the comedy. It's impossible to think of a show with this much depth in this direction. Not even The Simpsons in its prime was this despairing, in part because network TV has more limitations than Netflix. Here, they can experiment with an episode built around a drug trip with Philbert hallucinations that gets surreal and uncomfortable, even as it has a few moments within the horror of genuine glee.
Bojack Horseman continues to be one of the most undeniable success stories of the Netflix era. It's a show that shouldn't work this well, in large part because talking animal shows are geared towards kids usually. Here, it would be too uncomfortable to have a live action actor in the place of Bojack. There needs to be some division from the real world, even as it reflects something that's all too familiar. It's a story that explores depression and loneliness in ways that pack a punch, but it also isn't afraid to throw in background gags. Few shows are this confident that it becomes transcendent on both fronts. Most of all, it feels like it has for us to learn from the show. What is empathy, and how can we achieve that for others as well as ourselves? The show attempts to answer that, and boldly claims that it's a lot harder than it looks. Thankfully, it manages to be thoroughly entertaining at the same time.
Overall Rating: 4.5 out of 5
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