“A Very BoJack Halloween” Teaches Us Nothing Is Scarier Than Learning from Our Mistakes
(Except maybe mummies.)
Welcome to What Horse Is He Right Now Dot Com, a collection of stories by The Dot and Line about BoJack Horseman. Spoilers for Season 5 follow.
“Can’t repeat the past? Why of course you can!”
— Jay Gatsby
The eighth episode of Season 5 of BoJack Horseman (entitled “Mr. Peanutbutter’s Boos”) is structured around four parties — in 1993, 2004, 2009, and 2018 — in the annual Halloween tradition Mr. Peanutbutter started when he crashed BoJack’s house with a ton of guests. Costumes change, people get older, and the soundtrack is different, but the main beats of the party are always the same. Our absurd heroes are determined to keep making the same mistakes and learning the wrong lessons.
Every year, BoJack says he hates the party but puts up no resistance; Mr. Peanutbutter brings a new girlfriend, only to ignore her needs the entire time; and Princess Carolyn ends up working the door. Invariably, Mr. Peanutbutter’s girlfriend is pushed to her breaking point — cue record scratch sound effect — and the party’s pretty much over. A wasted BoJack has changed his tune, begging everyone not to leave: “I want to see all of you back here next year, no matter what!”
The structure is familiar; it’s a classic holiday episode of a sitcom. Or it would be, if we watched it happen once. Four times is painful (and we just know the exact same things have happened at the 21 parties we don’t get to see). Imagine watching Gilligan and the rest trying to get off the island 25 times in one episode.
Why do we repeat self-destructive patterns? Maybe we’re asking ourselves the wrong questions. “Why,” asks Mr. Peanutbutter, “do all of these idealistic, vivacious women eventually turn cruel after being with me?” His casually misogynistic question centers himself in the story of all of his relationships. By the end of the 2018 party, in search of a common denominator, an old dog finally learns a new trick: He realizes that he doesn’t listen. But BoJack resists the easy conclusion, and Diane comes in to complicate things: “Your not listening — and I repeat, you don’t listen — that’s not the only thing going on here.” “There are more things?”
Yes, Mr. Peanutbutter—like a “Baby Bjorn Borg” costume, there’s more than one thing going on here. He meets women when they’re young, and, Diane points out, “life changes people.”
“Well, not me,” replies Mr. PB, and Diane says, “Well, that’s kind of my point.” If you refuse to let life change you, you’ll keep having the same fight at the same party.
Why not just give up on finding meaning? On resisting—or trying to change — the unceasing march of shit happening to you? Just let it happen. Or, at least, that’s what BoJack does. He goes from mildly perturbed and getting a little too tipsy in ‘93 to a sloppy binge-drinking, pill-popping, liquor-on-your-pizza-enjoying mess in 2018. It hurts to watch. When you run from the world, when you drink to escape your feelings, you might be coping in the short term, but you’re also doing tremendous internal damage.
In 2004, BoJack gets the call that his father has died. When the party’s over, he turns to a (then) stranger in a red hoodie and says, “You know, I always thought when this happened I would feel something. I don’t know what, but something. But I don’t feel anything. What’s wrong with me?” What’s wrong is a coping mechanism that’s working all too well.
Is there any way out of the vicious cycle? Nobody’s searching harder than Princess Carolyn, who looks up in 2009, realizes she’s still on door duty, and asks, “What am I doing with my life?” She runs out the door to meet her destiny. In 2018, she’s right back at the door. For 25 Halloweens, she’s worn the same Amelia Earhart costume. It’s getting older: the fabric is torn and the goggles are dented. Earhart is an inspiring character in Princess Carolyn’s life; she’s the grit and determination that helps you fly away toward a better life (based on an old movie PC would watch as a kid that takes some…liberties with how Amelia’s story ends). The costume is a symbol of what’s just around the corner but might never arrive. That might sound sad, but we can also call it hope.
BoJack, ultimately, is a show about how we want things: happiness, closure, connection, and how we get in our own way chasing them. We’re too deluded to see the full picture, like Mr. Peanutbutter; too scared and cynical to work at it, like BoJack; or chasing an idea of what should make us happy, like Princess Carolyn. We can’t repeat the past because our costume is going to keep fraying. We keep getting older (even if girlfriends stay the same age), and life doesn’t stop just because we ignore it.
Sometimes, nestled in all this eternal return is a kernel of insight: I can learn to be a better listener, or I’m in control of my own experiences (I like to imagine that during the 2009 party Princess Carolyn ran off to have an amazing, life-changing night that we’ll see in a future season). Sometimes, that kernel of insight is enough. Other times, it’s just too painful not to change. Or we look at the people we love and want to be better for them, or realize we are better for having met them.
All the while, we keep throwing the party, sure that on the 26th time, we’ll get it right.
