The Show: Bojack Horseman
The Lesson: It Never Hurts To Look Closer
I could probably write toooooons about Bojack Horseman, Netflix’s animated comedy for adults. It follows in the footsteps of shows like Mad Men in the sense that the main character is an antihero whose journey to improvement always seems to be one step forward and two steps back. Bojack Horseman’s journey includes tons of laughs, but also many serious topics like mental health, addiction, sexual harassment, and more. Oh, and it takes place in a world populated with humans and human-esque animals.
Along with all its musings on the nature of humanity and change, Bojack Horseman taught me to always look closer. Truly, I mean that literally. The show’s animated format allows for a zillion background jokes. Every frame has the potential to be packed with punny store names, reimagined iconic movie posters, an in-universe bourbon brand that sneaks into bar scenes, and scrolling headlines on the 24-hour news that pack a serious punch. Toward the end of the series, there’s actually a moment of on-screen text that makes fun of people who took an opportunity to pause the show and read it.
Bojack’s front-and-center content is amazing on its own…but this show also taught me the lesson that good animation is a gift in the television landscape. It’s nearly impossible to imagine a live-action show managing the joke density and in-universe complexity that Bojack Horseman and similar shows pull off with their animated worlds.
The Show Hannibal:
The Lesson: Even The Grotesque Can Be Beautiful
“Who is even asking for a series about Hannibal Lecter in this day and age?” I mused out loud when the NBC series first premiered.
Turns out, the answer was ME. Bryan Fuller’s Hannibal isn’t just about the sensationalism of murder. Instead, it’s a meditation on psychology, empathy, love, sex, and death. While Mad Men showed me the basics of color theory and editing as tools for good tv, Hannibal took those skills and turned them up to eleven.
The result? Mouth-watering food photography that makes you want to forget what Hannibal is likely eating, set pieces bathed in blue or red for emotional effect, and looooooots of dead bodies that are so artfully designed that they’re more fascinating than they are terrifying.
In short: I already believed television is a legitimate form of art. But Hannibal taught me that good television can also look like art in every scene.