BoJack Horseman: an offbeat, bizarre comedy about an animated horse and his exploits in Los Angeles, ranging from stealing the “D” off of the Hollywood sign to starring on a wacky quiz show penned by a returned J.D. Salinger. Also one of the most realistic shows on television.
The most recent season has a lot of gems in it. But the one that shines the most to me is, ironically, “Stupid Piece of Shit.” It’s the most intimate we’ve ever been with BoJack, getting right into his skull to look at his depression up close and personal.
One of the defining features of the episode is the means by which it portrays BoJack’s mental extrapolations -- a series of sketchy caricatures designed to exaggerate BoJack’s flaws and others’ criticism: BoJack’s belly is larger and more accentuated, backlash more violent and expressions intensified.
The little scenes are detached from context, just poignant clips shaped more by fear and pessimism than reality. It’s a painful portrayal of the hyperbolic world of depression, where the worst-case-scenario matters more than the truth and the afflicted is defined solely by his worst moments, the people around him by their potential for rejection.
The episode’s other defining framing device is the internal voice that follows BoJack throughout, dutifully proclaiming him the titular “stupid piece of shit” at every slight. It’s not so much critical as oppressive; its insults are vague, unfixable. It addresses BoJack’s problems exclusively by putting him down, offering no avenue for improvement.
This voice offers a lot of context for many of BoJack’s bad decisions: it sticks him in a position where his flaws are fundamental to his character, inescapable and intrinsic. His faults are inevitable to him, and therefore a given occurrence. It creates a world where growth is impossible, mistakes irreconcilable and omnipresent.
On the whole, it makes for quietly disturbing episode, a chilling reminder of how our own minds can torture us. Depressed or not, its audience is bound to find at least some degree of familiarity in it; the sensation of some creeping, predatorial internal detractor -- picking at our self-doubt like a fresh scab -- is terrifyingly universal. The way BoJack’s mind gloms pessimistic distortion onto reality might be more intense than the average person’s, but we all have that little parasite somewhere inside us. “Stupid Piece of Shit” is a great reminder of what that thing is, and why we should fight not to listen to it.
