Bojack Horseman and Radical Acceptance: There’s Always More Show, Until There Isn’t
Images from Netflix
The fifth season of Netflix’s sad horse show has been out long enough that we can explore some more complicated ideas—and speculate about the recently-commissioned sixth season—without my having to pepper this with spoiler alerts. But of course, you know, spoiler alert here.
It’s difficult to peg exactly what narrative arc is happening on Bojack Horseman right now. You’d think, storytelling-wise, that we’d be at the point where the titular horse would be entering a true redemption arc, or at least a bit of an upswing. That’s not… that’s not what’s happening. This tale of a broken former actor attempting to reclaim his fame while fixing his broken, uh, entire being has been on this slope since the very beginning of the series. Episode One involves picking apart the self-hatred and self-destruction that has marked the last decade plus of Bojack’s life, as he begins a journey of introspection that eventually takes him from surrendering to be a broken shell of a being to taking the first baby-steps towards being an actual person. Or horse. Or horse-person. That’s tricky.
The journey that Raphael Bob-Waksberg has lead us through over the last few years has seen a brutal pattern: for each step towards redemption or being a better person, Bojack must take two (or ten) steps backwards. It’s been a revelatory portrayal of self-improvement. After all, nothing works like a sitcom: just trying to do better does not make you better and people will not forgive you for your first and only attempt. Perhaps that’s why it was extra important to do this with a former sitcom star; someone trained and controlled by a pattern of irrational emotional story beats designed for breezy entertainment.
To provide the alternating chutes and ladders along the way, Bojack’s world is filled out with other characters that occupy all positions along the spectrum of power and across the ethical grid. If the first season, the entire ensemble existed to remind Bojack Horseman that what he was doing was wrong and that he needed to make better choices, or at least stop damaging everything in his orbit. Or, perhaps better put, that was the thrust of the entire world. Those closest to Bojack had to juggle some variation on being overly supporting, softening the truth so that he wouldn’t spiral, pushing him to acknowledge he had the potential to become a better being, and/or spitballing methods by which he might accomplish these tasks. Bojack’s inability to differentiate between the good pitches, the bad plans, and the absolute worst ideas (his own) was the main source of his game becoming that of Chute & Chutes as he kicked the ladders out from under himself.
The subtle shift over the last few seasons has left the inner orbit of Bojack’s world completely broken. There are no longer any adults left in the room. Each of the possible guiding lights is now dark, as those characters whose most notable facet was “reliability” have each moved on (sometimes literally) and have their own demons to battle. Again, this is Bojack Horseman throwing out the expected TV arc, and denying the audience the release that would come with the sitcom solution. Here, not only is our troubled antagonist too flawed to fix himself, but the emotional labor and intertwined lives of the other name characters is an albatross pulling them down. It’s a brutal process of watching those who love and care about someone burn out completely and, in the wake of that, unlearn the very lessons they originally meant to impart upon Bojack.