The Entertaining Existential Crisis And Lurid Magical Realism of Bojack Horseman

(spoilers abound)

That’s the thing. I don’t think I believe in deep down. I kind of think all you are is just the things that you do.-Diane Nguyen

It was nice while it lasted. Bojack Horseman was three seasons in by the time I started watching. Suffering through a bout of insomnia and praying I wouldn’t slide into mania I selected Bojack from my Netflix recommendations. It had enough episodes built up to binge when I was sleepless.

For anyone struggling with mental health issues, addictive personalities, or family trauma (so…a lot of people) the show’s bright dreamscape of anthropomorphic characters was one of the most representative shows to have ever aired.

The pessimism of Bojack was refreshing. When you’re depressed it can feel like the world demands optimism. Like you are surrounded by Pollyannas trying to convince you if you just looked at the bright side you would be able to crawl out of bed and walk into the world again.

I would find myself clinging to scientific studies about optimism bias and depressive realism. Research detailing how mildly depressed people are better at predicting when they are in control of outcomes.