Before we get started, this article contains light spoilers for seasons 1-5 of BoJack Horseman; links to external articles contain significant spoilers.
It’s a pretty contentious thing to claim that a show is ‘one of the best’, but I’m going to do it anyway. If you haven’t seen BoJack Horseman, you really should redress that. If you have watched it – well done. It’s one of the best shows currently on the air, and for good reason. It deals with mental illness, moral culpability, the workings of showbusiness, and complex relationships, with consideration and finesse while also being funny on multiple levels.
For those of you not in the know, the synopsis is as follows: In a world where humans and anthropomorphic animals live side by side. BoJack Horseman (voiced by Will Arnett), the washed-up star of the 1990s sitcom Horsin’ Around, plans his big return to celebrity relevance with a tell-all autobiography to be written by his ghostwriter Diane Nguyen. BoJack also has to contend with the demands of his agent and on-again-off-again girlfriend Princess Carolyn, the misguided antics of his freeloading roommate Todd Chavez, and his friend and rival Mr. Peanutbutter.
The first season aired in 2014 to positive critical reception. While first-time viewers may be put off by the anthropomorphised melange of animal characters who live interspersed among humans with no discernible explanation as to how this works, after a few episodes, it melts into the normal. As a result, not only does it set up some truly spectacular animal puns (for example, fashion designer Sharc Jacobs, or news channel MSNBSea), but from a storytelling perspective it serves to create just enough distance from the real world that it puts us in a space where we’re actually more receptive to the messages and ideas explored within the show.
So, surrealist conceit aside, what makes BoJack Horseman such a great show?
It’s a show that has been put together in an incredibly careful way. In his pitch meeting to Netflix, show creator Raphael Bob-Waksberg stepped through each episode in the first season, including the A, B, and C stories within each episode before he had even written them. Having such detailed thoughts behind the episodes is reflected in many ways, from the incredible continuity of characters’ comments and storylines, to the brilliant running gags (note hollywoo, banners gone wrong, Erica! to name but three), but also in the way the careful and delicate way so much of the show’s darker themes are explored.
Aaron Paul (the voice of Todd Chavez) described his initial conversation with Bob-Waksberg and the pitch of the story as, “Raphael explained to me that he wanted to not only do a cartoon that was funny, but also a cartoon that was incredibly tragic at times. I thought that was such a brave, cool idea.”
The show is reasonably singular in portraying the misery of all its characters. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not as though every single character is deeply despondent in every single episode. But what several people have commented on is that BoJack himself is not simply “the depressed character”, making him thus perceived by audiences to be a definitive representation of depression. As a result, it gives a multifaceted portrayal of depression and how characters in many ways engage in behaviour which perpetuates self-misery and poor mental health, while also demonstrating how hard it is to actually break free of those constraints. That’s actually symptomatic of the whole show: it portrays the ‘right’ thing to do while simultaneously demonstrating the difficulty of actually doing that right thing.
Consider even BoJack’s speech in the S4e3 after his schism with Todd. Right at the very end of what seems like a lead up to acknowledging how poorly he has treated Todd and is failure to appreciate Todd as a friend, he instead makes the speech about his neighbour, Channing Tatum. It’s a painfully funny kicker. One could ask the question, does he say this because he really is so self-absorbed that he has no idea, or does he pull out of actually admitting how badly he messed up with Todd because it places him in a position of vulnerability and Todd may still walk away at the end of it? There is of course a third option, that the trauma inflicted upon him by an emotionally abusive childhood has entirely skewed his capacity to recognise and express friendship. There’s a complexity at play here which is reasonably unique in television because all three of the above are entirely plausible.
Moreover, while that complexity breeds empathy, it doesn’t encourage excuses or exceptions being made for characters who do bad things. Indeed, the show demonstrates that despite having a terrible childhood, or having undergone profoundly unpleasant and unfair experiences, while it goes a great way towards explaining why someone may behave in a particular way, it doesn’t excuse that behaviour.
What’s particularly noteworthy about this (and indeed the way the show deals with many contentious issue) is that the show most often than not doesn’t give the audience the satisfaction of providing a clear way to interpret and view the issues it presents; instead, we are forced to sit with that discomfort of not being sure what exactly is right. Even within interpersonal conflicts, the show genuinely portrays both sides as having merit. Diane and Mr Peanutbutter’s arguments often encapsulate this – especially as in the lead-up to the disagreements I often find myself siding with Diane. When Mr Peanutbutter actually articulates the logic behind actions which seem inconsiderate, or puts voice to feelings of being unable to know what Diane wants or is thinking herself, or simply of outlining his own needs, suddenly Diane’s perspective seems not quite as reasonable and justified as it did before.
In some ways the show is optimistic; it suggests the capacity for people to rise above their bad experiences or awful backstory. However, the characters rarely do actually behave better than we expect of them, and therein lies the tragedy element which makes the show so poignant; it sets its characters up to have the ability to learn from their mistakes but then shows them engaging in the same self-destructive behaviour over and over again. The end of season 5 showed the possibility of some characters breaking away from their bad patterns, but the actions of say, Mr Peanutbutter, were variations of the same hollow theme.
This nuance carries over into the way it addresses real-world scandal. Season two’s episode “Hank After Dark” cynically parallels the Cosby sexual assault allegations when Diane casually references the allegations of sexual misconduct surrounding beloved actor Hank Hippopopalous (yes I did have to copy paste his name from google). The furore which ensues highlights people’s unwillingness to believe he could have done anything wrong. It’s pointed, its pessimistic, and it was brilliant. That carried over into season five which was unflinching as it engaged with the #MeToo movement and the entrenched capacity for men to get away with unforgiveable things. By this point, we are presented with a protagonist with whom we have formed a bond over the past five years and as such, have seen the good and the troubled alongside the bad, and so his bad actions do seem as though they’re in context, even if objectively, they’re unacceptable.
It scathingly shows how society and the Hollywood machine works to ‘redeem’ and forgive predominantly male stars who have engaged in fundamentally unacceptable conduct.
This is something that could only be done five seasons into a show, when we the audience are still willing to stick with the characters to see if they do truly come to terms with what they’ve done and make actual amends for their actions. But even five seasons in and with the kind of popularity the show has, it’s an incredibly brave thing to do, if for no other reason, if you don’t execute it perfectly, the show won’t pull together at all. Yet it was done perfectly, and as such, it made the season spectacular.
At its core, BoJack Horseman is a singularly well put together piece of television. It’s brilliantly written, with a perfect balance of humour and tragic to tell a story that could easily fly away into completely surrealist and absurdist humour but doesn’t on account of the writing quality. It’s not always an easy watch, but it’s a great watch.
