With TV Club 10, we point you toward the 10 episodes that best represent a TV series, classic or modern. They might not be the 10 best episodes, but they’re the 10 episodes that’ll help you understand what the show’s all about.
“All those perky, well-adjusted people you see in movies and TV shows? I don’t think they exist.”—Diane Nguyen, BoJack Horseman
When Netflix’s BoJack Horseman premiered in 2014, few could have anticipated that a goofy comedy about anthropomorphic animals would end up breaking hearts. Raphael Bob-Waksberg’s show remained a crusher until its end, with the moving series finale airing three years ago, on January 31, 2020.
Set in Hollywood—Hollywoo? Hollywoob?—BoJack follows a has-been actor’s obsession to feel relevant, and the ways this need usually destroys those around him. The show extracts humor by sharply ridiculing the movie industry and prodding the cultural zeitgeist. It also has a fundamental understanding of how most people wish to be better and how difficult it is to achieve that. This quality makes BoJack resonate despite, you know, the talking animals. There’s six seasons worth of “good damage” as BoJack explores mental health, self-reflection, existential crisis, and accountability.
The initial season gets a bad rep for being wobbly while constructing BoJack’s (Will Arnett) superficially colorful but internally calamitous world, but I disagree. Bob-Waksberg maps out BoJack’s path and a key relationship in the show’s second episode when the titular self-loathing horse—once famous in the ’90s for being on a TV show—begins his collision course with Diane Nguyen (Alison Brie). BoJack shares his authentic self, starting with a rooftop scene that comes full circle (more on that soon). And Diane goes from his memoir’s ghostwriter to a pivotal figure as her own sad backstory unspools. BoJack and Diane form the show’s emotional crux. Two sides of the same coin, they eventually deal with their trauma and insecurities differently. BoJack installments focusing on them are usually some of the most shattering, as evidenced below.
The tragicomedy offers a masterclass in character studies, including those of Princess Carolyn (Amy Sedaris), Todd Chavez (Aaron Paul), and Mr. Peanutbutter (Paul F. Tompkins). People pleaser Princess Carolyn can’t help but save the day while striving to be independent; a silly Todd fails upwards but remains lovable; and Mr. Peanutbutter is a fascinating example of the “nice guy” syndrome. They’re all flawed but deeply human, so it’s easy to relate to several attributes of the five leads—an expansion of the Zoë or Zelda thesis if you will—depending on whose storyline feels personal. Or as Todd puts it in the series finale, “Isn’t the point of art less what people put into it and more what people get out of it?”
The gravitas is countered with cartoonish humor. There are plenty of running gags, from character actress Margo Martindale to an unexplainable desire to learn what celebrities know (Do they know things? Let’s find out!) to the honeydew dissing. The character’s compelling evolutions—thanks to the scripts, Lisa Hanawalt’s designs, and the voice performances—elevate BoJack from just another animated show. The format has always been a fun gateway to tackling serious issues and stretching artistic abilities. BoJack is no different, despite major flaws like casting a white actor to voice Vietnamese American Diane.
Bojack Horseman balances aching melancholia with bizarre world-building. It might’ve ended fairly recently, but there’s no telling if it would’ve survived now if it didn’t premiere almost a decade ago. Streamers cancel several projects before giving them a fair shot. (RIP, Hanawalt’s Tuca & Bertie, and we’re looking at you, Warner Bros./HBO Max.) If it had arrived in today’s streaming wars era, BoJack might not have gotten six seasons to tell its daring, uncomfortable, poignant, and tear-jerker stories. So to commemorate the show’s series finale anniversary, here are 10 devastating episodes, mostly about BoJack and Diane. (Next time, we’ll do an ode to Princess Carolyn.) I know there other excellent choices too, but this is TV Club 10. I had to whittle it down.
(P.S.: To read more, you can always catch up on Les Chappell’s episodic recaps.)
“Downer Ending” (season one, episode 11)
“Downer Ending” is a crucial glimpse into how BoJack comes to rely on Diane’s opinion of him. He’s revealed bits of his darker self to her under the assumption that she’s just like him—something he repeatedly tells her during the show’s run. He’s not wrong, but it’s how they end up approaching the issues that distinguish them. In his selfish mind, she uses his life story to write an honest BoJack memoir that exposes him to the world. A drug-fueled haze with Sarah Lynn (Kristen Schaal) and Todd helps him realize that a) he is no writer, and b) people expect BoJack to disappoint. Case in point: After ruining Todd’s space-rock opera, his roommate tells him that he’s not mad, but he isn’t surprised.
BoJack throwing away Todd’s career was an early indicator of his destructive capabilities, and how it affects those who trust him. Poor, sweet, Todd. BoJack has a big “what if” arc here. What if he left Hollywood and moved to Maine with Charlotte (Olivia Wilde) years ago and lived with a quiet, happy family? Would he be able to live in a way that goes against his sorrowful upbringing?
This experience ignites a fire in BoJack. He wants to know that, deep down, he’s a good person and that his trauma doesn’t make him terrible. And he only wants to hear it from Diane because no one knows him better; her saying it would become the crutch he uses to excuse his actions. Sadly, she doesn’t have a response. Season one’s penultimate episode sheds light on how depressing BoJack Horseman is about to get. It’s not the first outing to do so—remember BoJack’s visit to Herb Kazazz?—but it zeroes in on BoJack and Diane’s codependency that lasts for most of the show’s run.
“Yes And” (Season two, episode 10)
The tables turn as BoJack Horseman speeds toward its season-two conclusion. BoJack is in a stable relationship for once, but nothing good lasts, right? Diane’s book earned him a dream role in Secretariat, and a sincere girlfriend in Wanda (Lisa Kudrow). So, naturally, cracks form when Diane crashes at BoJack’s house for months post-Cordovia while avoiding her husband. It doesn’t help that BoJack can’t connect with the film’s director and misses an opportunity in New York to act in a play. BoJack and Diane wallow together (misery loves company), but Wanda doesn’t understand their coping mechanisms. She was never going to, not only because she had just got out of a 30-year coma.
Wanda is naive but essentially good-hearted. Staying with BoJack would’ve possibly corrupted her nature. She recognized this relationship was doomed to fail because of his bitterness. “Yes And” presents a couple of legendary BoJack quotes, including this exchange:
Wanda: What happened, BoJack?
BoJack Horseman: Same thing that always happens. You didn’t know me, then you fell in love with me, and now you know me.
Wanda: You know, it’s funny. When you look at someone through rose-colored glasses, all the red flags just look like flags.
The breakup leads to another memorable conversation between BoJack and Diane. They discuss what makes them truly happy, and if it matters because happiness itself is short-lived or comes in phases. It’s a heavy dialogue that propels into BoJack’s disastrous New Mexico trip.
“Escape From L.A.” (Season two, episode 11)
BoJack escaping L.A. with a faux agenda to seek joy leads him to New Mexico. He’s a horse with blinders, alright. BoJack ventures to complete his “what if” from season one by assuming that reuniting with Charlotte will bring him the satisfaction he’s missing. He doesn’t know yet that no external factor can fill that void, no matter how hard he tries. BoJack inserts himself into Charlotte’s domestic routine, bonding with her daughter, Penny (Ilana Glazer), and her friends, taking them to prom as a chaperone, and allowing them to drink. No duh, he’s a bad influence.
At almost 18, Penny doesn’t know much except an older, seemingly kinder horse has been living with her family and helping her navigate young adulthood. Of course, she’s attracted to him. She’s too young to know better. BoJack almost takes advantage of her evolving sexual desires. Only one question haunts him: Would he have slept with Penny if Charlotte hadn’t walked in and banned him from their lives? There’s no way to know, but it’s alarming that BoJack believes he could have. “Escape To L.A.” is a formative episode that sows more seeds for BoJack’s downfall.
“That’s Too Much, Man!” (season three, episode 11)
Sarah Lynn OD-ing in the planetarium as stunning stars flow by in the backdrop remains one of the show’s most haunting visuals. It epitomizes BoJack Horseman in a way: beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time.
BoJack and Sarah Lynn, who played his TV daughter on Horsin’ Around, go on a bender after he realizes he didn’t get an Oscar nomination for Secretariat. A sober Sarah Lynn jumps at the chance to party with him, and the inebriated duo visit Oberlin so BoJack can apologize to Penny. The episode further establishes that sadly, as always, he allows his narcissism to overtake rationality. A desire for redemption takes over even if he doesn’t deserve it yet. Instead of leaving both Penny and Sarah Lynn alone, BoJack invades their lives to feel less alone in his. He repeats his tragic patterns. This one leads to his former co-star and current drug partner’s crushing death in his arms. Sarah Lynn is right when she says, “That’s too much, man.”
“Stupid Piece Of Sh*t” (season four, episode six)
It’s hard to pick a few BoJack episodes to describe its poignancy, especially since season four has gems like “Thoughts And Prayers,” about how quickly we move on from mass shootings, or “Time’s Arrow,” which finally breaks down Beatrice and Butterscotch’s tumultuous marriage and sheds light on how poorly they raised BoJack. His parents set him up for failure early on, so in retrospect, it’s not surprising that his intrusive thoughts follow him around like a shadow.
“Time’s Arrow” rightfully gets the applause it deserves, so I’m turning your attention to “Stupid Piece Of Sh*t.” It takes a magnifying glass to BoJack’s mind, and it’s a whirlwind of self-deprecation. His inner monologue constantly reminds him that, yes, he is a piece of shit. (At one point, Felicity Huffman drops in to tell him the same thing.) BoJack would rather sit alone in his car on Mulholland Drive or drink in a bar for the whole day than spend time with half-sibling Hollyhock (Aparna Nancherla) or his sick mother. His fears, anxieties, and worst ideas manifest in this episode through funky animation. It looks vibrant but feels far too disturbing. BoJack creators use the medium to deliver an eye-opening half-hour that reminds us: No one hates BoJack more than himself, and he doesn’t know how to handle it.
(Correction: An earlier version wrongly stated Hollyhock as his step-sister).
“The Dog Days Are Over” (season five, episode two)
Diane confronting her (usually self-inflicted) loneliness in “The Dog Days Are Over” is low-key one of BoJack Horseman’s saddest episodes. It’s also oddly hopeful because she finally takes the necessary steps to work on herself. If you’ve read this far, I can admit that Diane feels like she’s written straight out of my brain. So this episode pretty much breaks me each time. Alison Brie’s vocal range to express Diane’s fluctuating emotions is perfect.
She’s often adrift and anxious because of the high expectations she places on herself and those around her. No wonder she chose to become a writer: putting pen to paper feels far more straightforward because she can do it on her own terms. It’s not that she has trouble expressing grievances about society but struggles to convey her emotions, whether things are going well or not. “Why can’t I be happy?” she asks BoJack, of all people, in a season four episode. “Am I busted?”
“The Dog Days Are Gone” marks a major turning point for Diane, who slowly but successfully learns she might just survive it all. It took four seasons, but she splits up with Mr. Peanutbutter because she’s tired of squinting to see the beauty in their relationship. Wanting to connect with her roots, she books a solo trip to Vietnam (while writing a GirlCroosh listicle about it because the content mill must keep churning). She travels partly because Mr. Peanutbutter has a new girlfriend. She may have chosen to leave him, but it hurts all the same. Diane physically finds herself in beautiful locations. But she still has trouble figuring out how to, well, truly find herself. The answer isn’t linear: She just had to make it through the pain.
“Free Churro” (season five, episode six)
If you think “Free Churro” is the best BoJack Horseman episode, you are correct. It’s the show’s crowning achievement and tragicomedy at its finest. It features Will Arnett speaking continuously for almost half an hour, and he carries the outing on his gritty vocal strength, infusing his performance with sensitivity and grief. Even without context, “Free Churro” is the one episode to sit your ass down and watch.
BoJack gives a eulogy for his mother, with whom he shared a volatile connection. The writing is dark, but it’s also full of Beatrice roasts. It eloquently dissects the tragedy of mourning someone you love who only brought you pain. BoJack spent his life desperate for the approval and praise she withheld his entire life—so much so that he misinterprets her reading ICU on her deathbed as “I see you.” He demands answers he knows he’ll never get, including why she dismissed him to such an extent. It’s heartbreaking because we see BoJack regress to a childhood version of himself.
“Free Churro” feels like the inverse of the sentimental sitcom, the kind BoJack resorted to when he felt abandoned by his parents. Much like Diane, he watched happy families on TV as a kid and that became his escape from his harsh reality. So of course the episode ends on a ridiculously comedic note when it’s revealed that BoJack gave his speech to the wrong room. But to end, here’s a BoJack quote from the episode that explains his outlook on life:
“All I know about being good I learned from TV. And in TV, flawed characters are constantly showing people they care with these surprising grand gestures. I think a part of me still believes that’s what love is.”
“The Showstopper” (season five, episode 11)
“The Showstopper” is a doozy. Fresh off of the success of his cop TV show Philbert, BoJack films season two with co-star and current girlfriend Gina (Stephanie Beatriz). The acclaim doesn’t mean much because he’s spiraling once again. As I said, nothing good lasts, and BoJack loves to repeat harmful patterns. It’s Gina who suffers instead of Sarah Lynn this time. High on painkillers after a stunt accident, BoJack’s hallucinations lead him to blend real life with an on-screen one.
The episode feels like a painfully accurate depiction of the pitfalls of being addicted to fame. Reality means nothing when BoJack keeps switching on-screen alter egos to gain the public’s love (something his family never gave him). BoJack makes us empathize with his history but doesn’t turn his misdeeds into an excuse, especially because he chokes Gina on set during another hallucination, leaving her with PTSD for life. On the plus side: Beatriz performs beautifully in this episode.
“The View From Halfway Down” (season six, episode 15)
BoJack Horseman takes a classic TV trope and turns it into an agonizing penultimate episode that made me think he wouldn’t live to see the series finale.
As he tries to drown himself in the pool of his former mansion—a nice callback to the opening credits—BoJack has to contend with everyone in his life who died. Sarah Lynn, Herb (Stanley Tucci), Beatrice, Crackerjack (Lin Manuel-Miranda), Corduroy Jackson-Jackson (Brandon T. Jackson), Secretariat, and for some reason, Zach Braff. There’s a dinner party, a stage show, heartrending poetry, and lots of chatter about whatever lies on the other side. If there’s an “other side,” that is. Herb says it doesn’t exist. This is it. It’s enough to make BoJack realize he still has to keep living. Otherwise it’s all black goo.
Episode writer Alison Tafel dissects mortality and legacy splendidly in “The View From Halfway Down” as BoJack ruminates on what he leaves behind. It’s nothing. He hasn’t answered for his misconduct yet, or apologized to and make peace with those he has wronged, let alone found a modicum of happiness. The episode might be dubbed filler this close to the end, but it was necessary to witness BoJack reckon with the idea of death up close.
“Nice While It Lasted” (season six, episode 16)
Is BoJack Horseman’s conclusion perfect? No. Does it neatly wrap up the storylines? Of course not. It’s not that kind of TV show; it’s no Horsin’ Around, where everything is sorted out by the end. The final half-hour feels incomplete, even if BoJack bids goodbye to Mr. Peanutbutter, Todd, Princess Carolyn, and Diane. There are no affirmative answers about how any of their lives end up in the future. We get the now, and it’s enough.
Almost a year after BoJack’s suicide attempt, things look slightly better for everyone. Mr. Peanutbutter, a.k.a. Birthday Dad, embraces being alone; Todd continues to be enviably optimistic (and hopefully with Maude); and Princess Carolyn proves she can have it all. All three make peace with BoJack, but there’s no guarantee they’ll remain in his life. That’s okay. I’m thrilled our anti-hero found a way to pay for his sins while working on himself, but, naturally, he’ll lose the people closest to him in the process. In that sense, the finale is too real.
The bittersweet climax during BoJack and Diane’s rooftop interaction is the full circle moment from when he first agreed to be honest with her in season one. They reminisce about L.A., Diane reveals she’s married to Guy (LaKeith Stanfield), and she was angry over BoJack’s last voicemail. He didn’t think she cared so he decided to take the plunge. He put an unbelievable onus on her to save him when she was finally moving on. It’s an honest confrontation between two best friends who realize they were quite toxic together. It’s for the best that Diane started fresh in Chicago and then Houston, while BoJack atoned for his problem in rehab, Wesleyen, and prison.
In a roundabout way, they helped each other, but also made each other worse. Maybe it’s good that this is their last conversation. Their friendship was crucial, and it was nice while it lasted. It just doesn’t need to last any longer. “Sometimes life’s a bitch and then you keep living,” Diane accurately says, and that’s what both of them do in my version of their future. Catherine Feeny’s “Mr. Blue” playing as they awkwardly sit together is as unwieldy as it would be in reality. It’s a heartbreaking, truthful culmination of BoJack Horseman.
Five bonus BoJack Horseman episodes worth a shoutout:
- “Underground” (season three, episode seven)
- “Best Thing That Ever Happened” (season three, episode nine)
- “Ruthie” (season four, episode nine)
- “What Time Is It Right Now?” (season four, episode 12)
- “The Face Of Depression” (season six, episode seven)