Skip to main content

The context you need, when you need it

When news breaks, you need to understand what actually matters — and what to do about it. At Vox, our mission to help you make sense of the world has never been more vital. But we can’t do it on our own.

We rely on readers like you to fund our journalism. Will you support our work and become a Vox Member today?

Join now

Is an animated horse TV’s next great antihero? (It’s not as strange as you think.)

Netflix’s BoJack Horseman argues in new promo art that its hero is in the proud tradition of Tony Soprano and Don Draper.

Netflix
Caroline Framke
Caroline Framke wrote about culture, which usually means television. Also seen @ The A.V. Club, The Atlantic, Complex, Flavorwire, NPR, the fridge to get more seltzer.

Netflix’s BoJack Horseman — which premieres its third season on July 22 — is one of the hardest shows on television to describe.

It’s an animated comedy, but it often tackles extraordinarily dark themes. It’s about the depravity of Hollywood, but it takes place in a world where humans and anthropomorphic animals live, work, and sleep together. It’s about a bitter, alcoholic horse who spends most of his days whining about his life from inside an enormous mansion, but somehow the show makes his (incredibly) privileged problems feel intimate, devastating, and sometimes even horrifyingly relatable.

One of the most crucial attributes a show like this needs to work is self-awareness, and luckily BoJack has it in spades. The first look at season three poked fun at the fact that critical response has largely referred to the show as an unflinching look at the dangers of depression, only to cut to BoJack trashing critics as boring has-beens.

And now Vox can offer this exclusive look at the new art for season three, which leans into the idea of the cantankerous BoJack as a conflicted male antihero character on the level of Tony Soprano, Netflix’s own Frank Underwood from House of Cards, and Mad Men’s Don Draper:

Netflix

(Netflix)

It’s a comparison that at least my colleague Todd VanDerWerff finds particularly apt:

This might sound ridiculous, but I promise it’s not ... [BoJack Horseman]‘s a strange, sad trip through the dark underbelly of fame, mixed with some of the most brilliant, caustic social commentary out there. And did I mention it’s funny? Sometimes bitterly so, with jokes that leave you tearing up as much as laughing.

All of those characteristics should bring to mind AMC’s esteemed advertising drama. But BoJack and Mad Men have something else in common, too: At their core, both shows are about the impossibility of happiness.

All 12 episodes of BoJack Horseman’s third season hit on Netflix on July 22. Its two previous seasons — and a bonus Christmas special! — are currently available to stream.

See More:

More in Culture

Culture
The diabolical, millennial obsession with chicken Caesar wrapsThe diabolical, millennial obsession with chicken Caesar wraps
Culture

Can a CCW and a Diet Coke really heal millennial ennui?

By Alex Abad-Santos
The Highlight
What do we lose when we erase ugliness?What do we lose when we erase ugliness?
The Highlight

Beyond the beauty binary.

By Constance Grady
Today, Explained newsletter
Live Nation lost in court. Here’s what it means for concerts.Live Nation lost in court. Here’s what it means for concerts.
Today, Explained newsletter

The case could, over time, chip away at Live Nation’s dominance in the live music market.

By Caitlin Dewey
Good Medicine
The alcohol crisis quietly hitting high-stress, “high-status” workersThe alcohol crisis quietly hitting high-stress, “high-status” workers
Good Medicine

What The Pitt can teach us about addiction.

By Dylan Scott
Advice
What trainers actually think about the 12-3-30 workoutWhat trainers actually think about the 12-3-30 workout
Advice

Have we finally unlocked exercise’s biggest secret? Or is this yet another lie perpetrated Big Treadmill?

By Alex Abad-Santos
Technology
The case for AI realismThe case for AI realism
Technology

AI isn’t going to be the end of the world — no matter what this documentary sometimes argues.

By Shayna Korol