I’m about to fill you in on something the government doesn’t want you to know- Netflix original series Bojack Horseman is the single best comedy series of our generation.
I might be kidding about the government part (but then again, why hasn’t Obama spoken about this matter?), but I’m not kidding at all about Bojack. Between the spot-on commentary on fame and pop culture, the sharp, spot on commentary contrasted with an almost childish silliness and just the right amount of 9/11 jokes, Bojack Horseman is an underrated gem.
The run-down, for those who have never plunged down the rabbit hole: Bojack Horseman is an anamorphic horse living in Los Angeles. In this universe, some people are talking animals (others are three kids stacked on top of each other in a trenchcoat), Hollywood Is Hollywoo (someone stole the D), and beloved author of The Catcher in the Rye (and others) J.D. Salinger faked his own death only to return to the public eye as producer of a celebrity game show aptly titled Hollywoo Stars and Celebrities: What Do They Know? Do They Know Things? Let’s Find Out!
As for our protagonist Bojack? He’s a washed-up actor who was famous for a low-quality, Full House-esque 90’s sitcom. He’s also a raging alcoholic with fragile self-esteem, complicated personal relationships and a slew of other mental illness symptoms from binge eating to panic attacks.
It’s hilarious.
It’s also one of the most honest and poignant portrayals of mental illness in the media.
I mean that full-heartedly and without irony.
By all means, Bojack Horseman is jam-packed with wonderful social commentary, about everything from the White Saviour Complex in foreign aid efforts to our exploitation of child stars to our protection of powerful men who have been accused of heinous things. But mental illness and self-destruction are absolutely key elements to the show, and while I’ve seen plenty of entertainment get feminism and fame right, very few hold mental illness in such an honest and unflinching light.
First of all, Bojack should be given credit simply for portraying so many symptoms and effects of mental illness so honestly. Bojack himself suffers from what is clearly a crippling depression and alcohol dependency, but his symptoms range from everything from episodes of rage to impulsive eating and spending to pushing away the ones he loves to paranoia that the people in his life will abandon or betray him. Sarah-Lynne, his former on-screen daughter is a classic Lindsay Lohan-esque former child star, from her addiction to literally everything to her histrionic, attention-seeking episodes. Even Diana, a character known for keeping cool and composed experiences a depressive episode in the later episodes of Season 2, where she neglects all aspects of self-care and has difficulties relating her struggles to other people, especially her husband. You see the realities of mental illness and their effects on one’s career, sex life, romantic life, platonic relationships, physical health and ability to function day-to-day. A lot of films and shows that try to tackle mental illness often focus on themes that are big and bold but unfortunately hard for many real-life watchers to resonate with, like ending up in the hospital or prison due to these conditions. Bojack Horseman shows mental illness as something real and not abnormal or uncommon; it shows the day-to-day effects of mental illness rather than the newsworthy events we like to reduce it to. This subtle, authentic approach makes all the difference as an audience member.
More than this, Bojack masters something that very few comedies manage to even come close to: creating situations involving mental illness that are hilarious without the punchline being the mental illness itself. There’s a dark humour in watching Bojack work so tirelessly and fruitlessly to gain approval of his peers, but not necessarily in the fact that years of being neglected by his own parents are one of the root causes of this. You can sit back and enjoy watching someone make a number of reckless and impulsive spending choices, while still understanding the fact that they’re made to fill a void or self-sabotage. Bojack Horseman finds both truth and humour in the mentally-ill experience without blaming or belittling the mentally ill to make that point.
Furthermore, Bojack doesn’t create characters to be pitied or glorified. In far too many books, movies and shows, the mentally ill are portrayed in a commiserative and two-dimensional light. They are seen as victims of circumstance, and in order to reinforce that message, their personalities are reduced to their symptoms, they are seen as weak and timid, with no control over their lives and their actions are always sympathetic. Bojack, on the other hand, takes a warts-and-all approach. Yes, Bojack is suffering, yes he is drug dependant and insecure, and yes he has been dealt an unfair hand in life. But the show never distracts from his own privilege: he’s a multi-millionaire who was given a once-in-a-lifetime shot, and by all means, if anyone has destroyed his own career and life, it’s himself. He is not viewed as a powerless character whose life has fallen apart due to extenuating circumstances. He’s made the decision to mope around and re-watch old episodes from his glory days, rather than commit himself to hard work and self-improvement. He’s ruined a number of his personal relationships by taking others for granted, using them for endless favours without offering anything in return, and being a general asshole. In the 90’s, when his best friend and lead writer of his show is outed as gay against his will, he is asked to stand up and use his celebrity status to salvage his friend’s career. He decides not to risk his newfound fame by selling out his friend and staying on the crappy sitcom, without ever publicly defending him and going decades before personally apologizing. That cowardice was all Bojack. He has the resources and somehow, the support system to make a real change in his life- but he only ever resorts to half-measures that promise a quick fix with no real effort put in, like buying audiobooks about fixing your attitude. In his career and personal life, he’s never been about taking the hard route, and that causes a lot of damage.
What’s great about this is the fact that there’s accountability to his character. He isn’t just his sadness or his anxiety or his acute paranoia- and it’s not just these traits pushing the plot forward. Bojack shows mental illness- and the effects it has on every aspect of daily life- without making an excuse for our own shortcomings. We can be mental illness sufferers and incredibly flawed and authentic human beings, and we don’t get to use the former as an excuse for the latter.
It’s also a unique show in the sense that it shows us that mental illness does not exist within a vacuum. It’s easy to create a character that’s got this wonderful life but is depressed and anxious, a person that’s faced no real adversity in life other than their illness. It’s easy to show mental illness just happening to someone, and better yet, someone who doesn’t deserve hardship at all. It’s more challenging, however, to show it as something complex, without rigid rules and with many factors involved. Bojack shows us fame as something destructive- something that feeds into our need to be noticed and appreciated- and shows it as a source of sadness and insecurity and a lack of fulfillment. It shows the impact friends and partners have in our lives- whether it’s finding solace and support in a companion to seeing relationships deteriorate due to self-sabotage and doubt. It shows the effects of poor parenting, even decades later. It shows us mental health as something fluid and changing and affected not only by genes but by social and environmental factors as well.
But the most important aspect of Bojack Horseman is its moments. Between the crude comedy and silly premises, these moments separate this show from being an enjoyable comedy to a downright masterpiece (because I don’t write entire op-eds about animated shows about alcoholic horses that aren’t downright masterpieces). There’s something so humanizing and important about these moments- they hit you right in the gut and remind you why we create comedy in the first place. It’s the moment when Bojack, after being unable to cry in front of others, still films a challenging and emotional scene and asks his director, who he’s relentlessly sought the approval of, if she’d thought he had it in him. She responds that she “knew” he had, and he goes outside, alone, to smoke a cigarette and sob quietly on his own.
It’s the moment after the funeral for his former best friend (who died having never forgiven him) when we flash back to the first taping of their show Horsin’ Around. The two, still inseparable at the time, get word from producers that the show will be a hit and go to the on-set water tank (where they film scenes involving water), only to find it’s just inches deep and facing a façade of a beautiful sunny day. The two stand in the ankle-deep water, drinking and discussing whether or not fame and success has the power to change who they are- and as an audience in the future, we know that it does and they do. Of course not, his friend assures him, because look, the future is bright- as they stare forward to a beautiful sky that’s just like everything else in Hollywoo, wooden and constructed and fake.
It’s the moment- the last moment of the second season- in which Bojack finally manages to jog to the top of the hill outside his home. It’s not a huge success- he’s been trying in vain to get to the top of the hill ever since his audiobook told him it was key to developing a “brand new attitude”, and it’s not that big a hill, but he’s always quit before getting to the top. Exhausted, the lays down, breathing heavily and staring at the sky. For context, this comes after a personal monologue when he shares the fact that he’s not sure how other people can “do it”, how they can get out of bed and be excited about their lives. As he gets his breath back, a wise-looking monkey in jogging clothes leans over him and tells him that, “it gets easier- every day, it will get a little easier, but you have to make sure you do it”. The season leaves us with that sobering, somber point about jogging or getting out of bed or anything you want it to be about.
It sometimes makes you forget you’re watching something that spends entire episodes exploring a conflict over a box of muffins or the effects of psychedelic drugs.
I might not be a movie star- and I might not be a horse- but somehow, in my own way, I’ve been where Bojack is. The show doesn’t make that reality comforting for me or easy for me- but it makes it a reality that’s important and real and valid nonetheless.
Season 3 just came out- do yourself a favour and watch Bojack Horseman.
