In years past, I collaborated on a year-end Best Of list with various other luminaries from Chud.com. Now that I'm on my own, the list will be more unfiltered and nonsensical, and also separated into individual entries. Oh, and it's scripted TV only (it's simpler that way). The ordering of said list is largely arbitrary, but if strict quantification of artistic merit makes you feel safe and aroused, consider this #2.
2. BOJACK HORSEMAN (NETFLIX)
In years past, I collaborated on a year-end Best Of list with various other luminaries from Chud.com. Now that I'm on my own, the list will be more unfiltered and nonsensical, and also separated into individual entries. Oh, and it's scripted TV only (it's simpler that way). The ordering of said list is largely arbitrary, but if strict quantification of artistic merit makes you feel safe and aroused, consider this #2.
It seems absurd on its face to say that the truest successor to Mad Men
is a vulgar cartoon wherein half of the cast consists of anthropomorphic
animals and beloved character actress Margo Martindale plays herself as a
boozy, psychotic enemy of all mankind. So I’ll go one better: Bojack Horseman is not only better than all
the derivations of Mad Men’s study of the eternal angst of financially and
sexually overachieving but self-destructive middle-aged white men, it’s better
than Mad Men itself.
Two things to put that claim in some context: 1) Mad Men is a quite good but very overrated show, and 2) I don’t give
a damn that literally no one will agree with that, because I still
get to be right about it. Yes, MM has
glamorous production designs, erudite writing, sex appeal and ample wit. But wit is the humor of the terminally
self-serious, and Bojack being a wacky animated comedy more readily identifiable as a progeny of The
Simpsons' brand of sweeping satirical whimsy gives it sneaky advantages over its
live action peers. For starters, it’s
rarely even thought of as a peer to cable antihero shows, and the inherent goofiness
that comes with the half-hour animated format has been used as cover to push
its eponymous equine to even darker depths of addiction and destructiveness than Don
Draper ever sunk. I used to fear the
penultimate episodes of shows like The Wire or Game Of Thrones for how they
always seemed to deliver the cruelest deaths, but I’ve come to dread that
second to last episode of Bojack in the same way, to see what new low he could
possibly, all-too-believably scrape. Last
year’s was stunningly horrible. This
year may be worse.
But it’s also screamingly funny. Not for nothing do I invoke The Simpsons; no
one has done background, sign, and music gags as well and frequently since that
show's heyday. It does inside-baseball skewering of the entertainment
industry (another area where the animation serves as a buffer against the
inherent insufferableness that comes with that territory) as well as anything
since 30 Rock. Also, uniquely for
Netflix, it has a strong sense of how to use its episodic format. The silent-film episode “Fish Out Of Water”
justly received most of the attention for its form-bending theatrics, but the
hilarious-turned-harrowing bender of “That’s Too Much, Man!” was as wild a ride
as any hourlong drama took this year, and the ebullient ode to abortion that
was “Brrap Brrap, Pew Pew!” outdid anything South Park did this year in terms
of spit-your-drink-out funny takes on hot button issues. Bojack Horseman may be one of the worst people
horses to ever front a sitcom, but Bojack
Horseman is the funniest sitcom on
TV.
Watch It For: All of the brilliance I didn’t even
mention. Like Paul F. Tompkins’ demented
positivity as celebrity golden retriever Mr. Peanutbutter, or Keith Olbermann’s
skewering of his own blowhard image as perpetually-outraged whale of a news
anchor.
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