Eroding the Postmodern: Finding Catharsis in BoJack Horseman

Upon watching the first episode of BoJack Horseman, I would have been astounded if someone told me that it was this show, with its anthropomorphised animals in Hollywood, that would resonate with me the most. Yet, somehow, BoJack Horseman has struck a chord with me. Long after my initial viewing, I’ve re-watched the show over and over, and each time has shown profound attention to animated detail. It is, in a word, exquisite. 

Those who know me personally have often compared me to Diane Nguyen, and I’ve realised the sheer number of similarities that I have with this character. We both are writers of sorts with a penchant for heeled black booties. We both wish to write about feminist issues that we do not simply have the power or platform to address. We’ve both had to question how the cover of our friendship can prevent perpetrators from changing for the better. Even if our circumstances are wildly different, I have found myself empathising with many of the dilemmas that she faces. Diane is the most human (quite literally, except for Todd) of all the central characters. She is flawed and complex, and she attempts to navigate her strong feminist values in a world and culture that constantly contradicts itself  or penalises those who challenge the status quo. 

My most recent re-watch of the show has served as a profound source of catharsis. As Raul Sanchez Saura argues, the programme challenges and critiques many faults within our society, particularly celebrity culture, in a non-cynical manner which erodes the postmodern edifice. In this world, facade, image, and superficiality all reign; a sign of postmodernity that Fredric Jameson defined as it’s ‘supreme feature’. The show’s core comes down to the central characters seeking to rectify and correct their own lives, and to find a meaning that contemporary society is unable to provide. Diane is frequently the voice of morality and reason throughout the show, yet she repeatedly finds her career and personal life sabotaged by her strong ethical stances on contemporary debates. 

The show’s undoubted strength lies in its ability to address challenging social issues regarding the insidiousness of Hollywoo(d) culture. BoJack’s unfiltered brand of Sartrean existential nihilism permeates through every one of his relationships. Although BoJack said that he stands by his critique of Sartre and that his “philosophical arguments helped tyrannical regimes justify overt cruelty”, we continually see his actions aligning themselves with that of Sartre’s philosophy. 

It isn’t until BoJack’s interview with Biscuits Braxby that hismisuse of power against women is explicitly addressed in the show. BoJack mythologises his sadness and, for the first time, is confronted with the abuse of the women that he claimed to care so deeply for. Sarah Lynn, Wanda, Penny, Diane, Kelsey, Princess Carolyn, and Gina all - at some point or another - become collateral damage of his selfishness. During BoJack’s breakup with Wanda, she tells him that “when you look at someone through rose-coloured glasses, all the red flags just look like flags”. He exploits the women in his life by misguiding their love and care for him; in doing so, he simultaneoulsy exists in a social and cultural vacuum where he spends most of the show’s duration evading accountability. 

The penultimate series’ introduction of Vance Waggoner is where the #MeToo and feminist discourse of the series are elevated to a whole new level. BoJack is accidentally perceived as challenging his co-star Waggoner and is subsequently considered a feminist icon. In true postmodern fashion, he brandishes himself in feminist symbolism and inserts terms like “intersectionality” and “toxic masculinity” in interviews. To BoJack, the terms are mostly vacuous and mean little. They are merely artificial constructs for him which he uses to develop his public image; there lies a gaping hole between ideology and praxis. 

Diane is then confronted by BoJack’s former publicist Ana Spanaokita, and the two women question their complicity in perpetuating the power of abusive and misogynistic men. Diane tells Ana: “When you, as a woman, give awful men the cover of your friendship when you work for them — first of all, they’re not gonna get better, and second of all you are then complicit — no, you’re culpable for the terrible things they do.” In Hollywood, this sentiment is echoed on a global scale. Men like BoJack, Vance and Hank Hippopopalous (see “Hank After Dark”) are propelled into the spotlight as celebrities and are worshipped while the women they harm are left to pick up the pieces. Ana then asks Diane what she would have Vance do to make amends and to rectify his actions. Diana dishearteningly answers that at this point, after numerous instances of racist and sexist violence, Vance can do little to rectify the past. Referring once again to postmodernism,any redemption that is bestowed upon Vance is a vacuous and empty attempt to erase the past. 

The latter half of the final season sees the “after” of the women BoJack has harmed. The repercussions of his actions affect their day to day lives, despite BoJack’s insistence that he “doubts they even remember.” Notably, Gina insists on keeping her assault private and suffers symptoms of PTSD. Yet, and quite accurately, she suggests that if BoJack were to face any form of public critique or punishment for his actions, this would result in her legacy as “the girl that BoJack strangled”. Lest we make a public spectacle of women’s suffering, men, as Gina suggests, are very rarely held accountable. 

When Diane answers BoJack’s question of whether he is a good person in Season One with “you are what you do”, she states that “there are no good guys and bad guys, we are all just guys, who sometimes do bad things and sometimes do good things”. BoJack, despite his obvious flaws, is mostly presented as redeemable. Yet, it isn’t until the journalists Paige Sinclair and Maximilian Banks piece together the accumulation of BoJack’s destruction that the audience is truly confronted with the question, is BoJack a good man? The answer, simply put, is no. BoJack’s desires to become a better person, or to be “good”, are impossible in the vacuous Hollywood culture that continually excuses or justifies his harm against women. He cannot undo Sarah Lynn’s death, Gina’s assault, or his exploitation of Penny. 

BoJack’s fate is ultimately an unhappy one. He is incarcerated, his relationship with Hollyhock left unclear, and he loses his fortune. It is the closest to being accountable that he can ever truly be. Whilst this seems an unlikely prospect in real life, weeks after the show’s finale was aired the notorious Hollywood producer and sex offender Harvey Weinstein was convicted of one count of rape and one count of sexual assault. The show’s recognition of the #MeToo movement and the subsequent shift in Hollywood culture came during the (hopeful) beginning of an epoch of accountability for men in Hollywood. This is the very kind of “cancel culture” that women demand. 

In the show’s final moments, we see quite possibly the last ever interaction between BoJack and Diane. She has moved on, no longer confronted by the contradictions of her friendship with a man who challenged her moral beliefs. Sheis now happily married, has left Hollywoo behind, and has found genuine happiness in writing a series for teens. She has made peace with the idea that she couldn’t change BoJack into becoming a better man. It’s this moment that provided true catharsis for me. It’s the sentiment that, despite Diane’s suggestion that there are no good or bad people, sometimes people will never be able to truly atone for their sins. 

The show’s end is simultaneously melancholic and optimistic. As Saura suggests, it offers hope for individual autonomy, and hope for rebellion against the patriarchal norms of society. I truly believe that a show so boldly critiquing the very culture that birthed it offers hope for an upheaval of Hollywood culture and an end to male exploitation of power. No longer can this culture hide behind the shadows; BoJack Horseman has brought it to the forefront. 

Katie Tobin

Katie Tobin is an MA English Literary Studies student. She has previously written for Vice and 91 Magazine amongst other publications. Katie also has an excessive love of plants, wild swimming, and chocolate milk.

https://katieannetobin.wordpress.com
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