TV Retrospective: "BoJack Horseman"

When Netflix introduced a Hollywoo(d) satire lead by a 90s sitcom star played by a horse, it seemed like the type of gimmick that wouldn't last. After all, what show with talking animals could think of producing any lasting emotional catharsis? That is what makes the gradual success of BoJack Horseman a wrecking ball that redefined TV with one of the most incredible runs in the streaming service's history. It was a show that took the background gags previously defined by The Simpsons and made them even crazier, requiring a remote to be in hands at all times. However, it also found a way to take the Hollywood culture of excess and explore themes that evolved with the show. What started as a reflection of a (horse)man suffering from depression slowly began to be about a world of loneliness that impacted everyone. It was a story that could explore toxic masculinity and asexuality as well as absurd plots about a game show that was lead by J.D. Sallinger. BoJack Horseman was the crazy show that found humanity at its ultimate highs and lows and in the process opened up its audience to the cruel world just out of frame. It was a show like no other, and one that will be difficult to ever imitate.

In the episodes leading up to the finale, BoJack Horseman was a show that explored its crazy, limitless potential for animation in some insane ways. Writer Diane Nguyen (Allison Brie) suffered from writer's block by having the words come to life to attack her emotional insecurity. Todd (Aaron Paul) had a rekindling with his mother while faking a kidnap from Margot Martindale. Meanwhile, BoJack (Will Arnett) had the most surreal experience as he experienced dinner and a show with people who had died throughout the show's history. Black humor abounds and there are allusions to him drowning in a pool as the animation continues to warp into the abstract, itself becoming uncomfortable in a redundant sense of delusional happiness. Still, in those moments BoJack never strayed far from the heart of what the show was about.

During the dinner scene, BoJack is seen faced with the deceased parties who died often through traumatic forms. For instance, his uncle died in military combat. This leads BoJack to the belief that acts of valor make him feel guilty for being happy. Meanwhile, he is forced to deal with people whose lives he leads into misery through drug overdoses and hangings that were less than pleasant. Nobody seems happy, and they all perform wild acts leading to a mysterious exit, an absence that feels haunting as BoJack faces a door entering into blackness. He doesn't know what is there, but he knows that he must escape the emptiness that lies beyond. He wants to live, and in a show that has found BoJack at the edge of irrelevance, it's the optimistic tool that leads into the finale. For a show that often can be very funny, the choice to spend its penultimate episode not with a positive revelation but in despair is bold and even fitting.

After all, the life of BoJack is on that has been trying to escape depression at every turn. Even if early episodes can be construed as a wacky comedy, they slowly build to revelations of death as BoJack is forced to deal with a past that finds him being abused and neglected. While everyone else tries to move beyond it in their personal life, he is stuck in the past that eventually comes back to hurt him. He is the aggressor in Me Too-style revelations that cancel him from culture, forced to remove his name from his beloved TV show Horsin' Around and removed from friendships that were once the sole existence of his joy. Then again, he has to deal with Todd finding self-worth, or Princess Carolyn (Amy Sedaris) trying to find love in a world as a single mother. Diane has moved on and discovered that she's better without BoJack in her life, and it's sad for the best. If there's anything that the six seasons have lead to, it's that BoJack Horseman is taking to task an adult form of regret. Somethings cannot be undone.

In a show that has seen BoJack dedicate a whole episode to comically getting to an underwater premiere, or Mr. Peanutbutter (Paul F. Tompkins) hosting a birthday party that goes horribly wrong, it has never strayed far enough away from the internal conflict of its characters. Mr. Peanutbutter, the perennial upbeat character and star of Birthday Dad, becomes insecure in his newfound depression after being broken up with. Diane finds a complacency in her new relationship that is almost too comfortable. As much as the previous seasons have been about struggling to fit, this is the first time that the show has moved onto new things and found some satisfaction within them. There's sudden joy in finding life outside of Hollywoo. There's meaning in finding a life that doesn't cater to egos and artificiality. For some, that's harder to find. BoJack thinks he's found it when he teaches an acting class, but that proves to just breed new egos and connect him to the brutal past that gave him addictions.

That is what makes the finale all the more piercing. It doesn't end with another hairbrained scheme that ends with a great punchline. Well, there is a punchline, but it's one that is far sadder: "life's a bitch and then you die, except maybe life's a bitch and you keep on living." As BoJack sits on the roof with Diane, the woman he began the series affectionate towards, there is no clearer sense that they're not right for each other. Diane has accepted her new life and can't be drawn into BoJack's life. She hates her old self and loves her new life. The sense that they'll never see each other again becomes tragic, but there's this underlying sense that life away from fame will be okay for both of them. Still, to see a friendship come to an acceptable ending is terribly sad, especially when Diane suggests that BoJack put too much control over her and that life without him has been great. They sit in silence, realizing that their lives will likely continue without each other. Is it all a metaphor for death? hat lies next? It's the open-ended existential question that the show has been building to. Those who have learned to move on have found joy, but can BoJack?

The Netflix series was part of a newer class of sitcoms that not only deconstructed the meta-humor of its subject but went deep into the heart of its characters. Without any need to censor or cut to commercial, BoJack Horseman could grow in experimental directions and fluctuate its scenes to go as short or long as they wanted. By doing so, it found a way to look into the abysmal nature of humanity and find some optimism in the therapy. Cartoon animals have rarely been as emotional and powerful as they were here, finding ways to turn a whole exploration of society's modern woes into a comical show of background gags colliding with dark moments that couldn't be told through any lighter tone. It would just be too unpleasant. Still, this set a bar that isn't likely to be met by any other show for fear of plagiarism. It was one of a kind experience that created sympathy around an unlikeable character without rejecting him of his crimes. It was bold and pushed limits, but also asked us to think about our own lives. For a show that rose from the dregs of underdog status, it became a phenomenon like no other, and that's only part of why the show is a cornerstone of how Netflix has changed the game for the better.


Overall Rating: 5 out of 5