I wear a BoJack Horseman quote around my wrist. “You have to do it every day,” it reads. “That’s the hard part. But it does get easier.”
I initially bought the rubber bracelet to wear during marathons as running motivation, but that was two years ago, and I haven’t taken it off since. Even if I didn’t have a constant visual reminder, though, I would still think about BoJack Horseman all the time. It’s not only, somehow, the funniest and saddest show on television (or Netflix, whatever), it’s also the most poignant and emotionally relevant. So, I was either going to love or hate the new season, which premieres Friday, September 14; there’s no in-between when you care about something this deeply. It could confirm what I already believed (“BoJack: good show!”), or betray my hopeful expectations (“BoJack: bad show?”).
After watching all 12 episodes, I can safely say… BoJack: good show!
Season five opens with a synchronized fish-dance set to “Los Ageless” by St. Vincent, and if I don’t have your attention, I don’t know what to tell you. The setting looks like BoJack’s house in the Hollywoo hills, but it’s actually a scene from the former-Horsin’ Around star’s current show, Philbert, a gritty send-up of sub-True Detective procedurals. (“[It’s] confusing, which means that it’s daring and smart,” raves Princess Carolyn.) The parallels between BoJack, the self-loathing horse, and Philbert, the self-loathing detective character he plays, provide much of the season’s physiological depth; it’s also a meta-commentary on whether we should root for someone who’s done, and will continue to do, so many shitty things that he can’t remember them all. (He’s trying to drink less, at least.) There’s a past insistence of shittiness, in particular, that still haunts BoJack, but that’s too depressing to talk about. Let’s move onto something fun.
Like Todd’s sex robot.
That’s the thing about BoJack Horseman. A late-season, years-in-the-making fight between BoJack and Diane (sporting a new look for reasons that should be obvious to anyone who saw where she and Mr. Peanutbutter left things last season) is intercut with Princess Carolyn convincing feuding popsicle joke-writing magnates to sign a contract and the aforementioned sex-bot “Henry Fondle,” with its dildo-hands flailing wildly, yelling “more more give it to me.” It’s extremely silly one second, sorrowful the next, and equally effective at both.