“Acting is about leaving something behind,” BoJack Horseman says to himself in a mirror, dressed tidily with lightly grayed hair to complete his professional look. The anthropomorphic horse is preparing for his first class as a professor of acting--a far cry from his days as a star sitcom actor, addict and abuser. He hesitates when reading his lecture cards, perhaps from nervousness or imposter syndrome, entering a university setting that’s wholly foreign to him. But then he recites the line again, this time completing his idea with more conviction: “Acting is about leaving something behind, and...becoming something completely new.”
This is how the final season of “BoJack Horseman” begins--with the premise of hope and vindication for the protagonist who’s made real progress toward shedding his heinous past. In previous seasons, we’ve seen BoJack go through cycles of self-destruction, ruining relationships and scarring people who put their trust in him in the process. But after a stint in rehab, BoJack’s outlook on the world is evidently changed. He’s no longer dependent on pills or alcohol for one, but he’s also at peace with being a has-been celebrity. Far removed from Hollywood and his troubled past, BoJack’s ready to move on and become something completely new. The only issue: What about the people he’s harmed?
We’ve seen BoJack sabotage his best friend’s career to advance his own, and nearly choke his co-star to death while on set filming a show. We’ve followed BoJack as he gave alcohol to teens and nearly slept with one. Most harrowingly, we’ve seen BoJack befriend his former child co-star Sarah Lynn, a similarly troubled former celebrity, lead her down a path of uncontrolled partying and drug dependency, and ultimately provide her with the heroin that led to her overdose. When two endeavoring journalists sniff out the truth behind Sarah Lynn’s death, the wall between BoJack’s turbulent past and quaint present comes crumbling down. The first five seasons of “BoJack Horseman” show the protagonist and his toxic behaviors; thus, it only makes sense that the final season is about consequences.
The parallels between BoJack’s character arc and that of many powerful, now-disgraced men in Hollywood are obvious and thinly veiled. Show creator Raphael Bob-Waksberg has never shied away from addressing hot-button topics, but the Netflix series usually touches on them in passing, and often through absurd and humorous devices. Bringing the #MeToo movement into the conversation opened up an entirely new wormhole for the show’s writers--one that required a much more serious commentary on the issue.
The entirety of “BoJack Horseman” has been about empathizing with a character who’s narcissistic, emotionally abusive, harmful, and largely ignorant of the ramifications of his actions. The show argues that BoJack, as a glorified everyman, isn’t a singular flawed character in an otherwise flawless world, but rather his flaws expose something more telling about the environment around him. For our protagonist, that would be his unforgiving childhood and the phoniness of Hollywood. Ultimately, this is how “BoJack” frames its final season -- using the #MeToo conversation as a vehicle to further dig into character analysis.
Like all nuanced comedies, “BoJack Horseman” isn’t really that funny. Behind the sublime animation, various pop culture references, puns and over-the-top visual gags is a show about depression, Hollywood and relationships--subject matter that’s incredibly difficult for any television series to access. And in our internet-driven world, it’s even more arduous to inquire about serious topics like addiction and mental health without dividing viewers and stirring controversy, but the Netflix series manages to accomplish it, and then some.
In the final episode, when BoJack dances with Princess Carolyn--a strong-minded cat and his agent--at her wedding, she ponders the finality of her marriage. “I’m afraid if this doesn’t make me as happy as I’m supposed to be, that means I’m a lost cause,” she said. For the independent and resolute Princess Carolyn, happiness is more than just cheap thrills. BoJack hears her out, but counters: “What if you deserve to be happy, and this is a thing that will make you happy?” “BoJack Horseman,” as it does with many other topics, presents happiness in layers, then proceeds to peel them away until we process how intricate these emotions can be. It’s this show’s ability to balance social commentary with individual inflection, and put them in conversation with each other that makes this brilliant piece of television so profound. While the series just concluded, “BoJack Horseman” already feels timeless.