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Diane Takes a Trip on an Emotional BoJack Horseman

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The Dogs Days Are Over Bojack Horseman Review

What’s the best way to totally croosh the major life trauma of severing a bond to another human being? Can one forget their supposed soul mate by losing themselves in another culture? Does seeking out the friends we know will indulge our bad habits (at least, for a little bit) actually help in processing grief? Is there peace to be found in forging a new identity, or pretending to laugh it off until it doesn’t hurt so much anymore? The answer, of course, is much more nebulous than that; as Diane realizes in “The Dog Days Are Over”, another powerhouse episode of BoJack Horseman, the only cure for a broken heart is the same cure for Todd’s frozen tongue – the slow, painful, haunting passage of time until the numbing effect of sadness slowly begins to subside.

Diane’s Ten Steps to Dominating Divorce, the backdrop of “The Dog Days Are Over”, is not an eternally self-defeating exercise, however. As Diane stumbles through the initial weeks of her breakup with Mr. Peanutbutter, BoJack Horseman slowly offers glimpses of a Diane coming to terms with the end of her marriage. The predictable crisis of identity presents Diane with the rare opportunity; to run away from the external problems of her life in Los Angeles, while still being able to fulfill a personal journey of self-definition she’s craved since the early days of season two (when she was negotiating to write a book about a self-gratifying war “hero”).

Or in the very least, attempt that journey: Diane certainly lost herself in Vietnamese culture, though, as she often did in her marriage to Mr. PB, she kind of let it happen to her. She couldn’t bring herself to wear the traditional garb she’d bought when she first landed in Hanoi, and instead just pretending to be a local to ignorant Americans wandering around the city (or shooting a Hollywoo action franchise film with Laura Linney, of course). Alone in a strange land, Diane found herself falling into old habits, allowing the world around her to define her, like last season when her position at Girl Croosh turned into her raging against the machine of her husband’s foolish run for governor. BoJack certainly wasn’t a very helpful guide in the days and weeks before her trip, but the lack of any sort of emotional anchor in Vietnam drove Diane right back into her worst tendencies, even though she was always acting with the best intentions.

As painful as it is to watch Diane struggle through grief (especially considering the note it ends on), Diane’s ultimate declaration that at least she’s able to survive alone strikes the kind of raw, honest tone only BoJack Horseman offers. As sad and low as that final moment feels, it’s also Diane’s first real moment of strength in the episode, the first moment where she stops letting others guide her, and she begins to build her identity in her own image. Knowing there’s not going to be a moment of clarity or happiness that involves Mr. Peanutbutter again is a dark moment we all experience with a lost love; and though it often takes a long time to process it, the simple knowledge of one’s ability to survive those traumatic moments are impact in rebuilding a sense of self.

Because that’s really what happens at the end of an important, lasting relationship: the phrase “two become one” is a laughable trope, but it rings true in human relationships, be it marriages, important friendships, or even casual acquaintances. The severance of those bonds, as inevitable and repetitive as they can be through our lives, are the destruction of the very things that define us. We often view ourselves, as people, in the context of those around us: there’s a comfort in the confirmation of self, the understanding the others see us as the way we see ourselves. The loss of that presents a crisis of identity; because after all, if we are who we thought we are, all relationships would last forever, right?

As Diane wanders through Vietnam, struggling to connect with her heritage, fellow Americans, and the people closest to her, the central thesis of “The Dog Days Are Over” slowly brings itself to the surface, offering a contrast to the popular ideal of the five stages of grief (aka humanity’s original shitty listicle). Like the rest of life’s challenges, there is no straight line from sad to happy: the cycle of happiness and sadness is a raging river of bullshit, and it is a supreme struggle to fight against those emotional currents, especially when the anchors, both physical and mental, are suddenly severed and gone. It’s why we often make terrible, damaging mistakes in the face of great traumas; processing these things is not as simple as a lengthy vacation across the world, or a haircut, or telling our closest friends that we’re just fine. Diane knows she’s making the right decision for herself; but as that truth becomes an idiom to repeat in her loneliest moments, it never makes the experience any easier.

The right thing often hurts like hell; the facade of Hollywoo (and Hanoiwoo) cinema lets Diane believe in the false prophet of narrative resolution, that there is a definitive light at the end of a long tunnel of depression and doubt. Masterfully, “The Dog Days Are Over” never reaches for that single, definitive moment; instead, it recreates the twisted, confusing mosaic of emotions and suggests that maybe, the best way for us to begin healing is to let shit just be ugly for a little while.

As effective as this episode is emotionally, however, it’s worth noting how often it attempts to engage with Diane’s Vietnamese heritage, but never feels like it can find anything tangible to tether it to. Though I’m not of Vietnamese descent, it’s clear “The Dog Days Are Over” wasn’t written with the intent of tapping into some deep historical knowledge of Diane’s cultural heritage; the score over the opening sequences are an unfortunate beacon of the hollow engagement this episode offers when it comes to portraying Vietnamese culture.

Admittedly, it’s not the goal of the episode to be a history lesson, but how often the episode teases and then immediately retracts from a more serious, honest engagement with the country and its relation to Diane, makes it feel a bit weaker as a framing device. Though this facade of knowledge almost works on a meta level, Diane’s carefully constructed mirage of happiness falling apart parallels the episode’s own struggles with a deeper, more complete understanding of Vietnamese culture, and how it is important to Diane’s journey (like, say, Diane’s various goals and identities waging war on her very soul, which both halves of Vietnam suffered through time and time again over the last 200 years).

Cultural shortcomings aside, “The Dog Days Are Over” is a strong character piece for Diane, a nice bit of redemption for someone who’d slipped into the background at various points during season four. It is always fascinating to see how BoJack Horseman explores very specific brands of grief and how they spiral into existential crises; the death of a marriage is but one of a long line of moments where BoJack’s understanding of humanity’s self-defeating nature crystallizes into poetic clarity. “The Dog Days Are Over” may not be the most effective example of this through the series, but the emotional roller coaster ride Diane experiences hits particularly hard, if only because it is the second episode of the season, which means there is still plenty of room for things to spiral downward from here.

Other thoughts/observations:

– “That screen’s my supervisor” might be the most single terrifying line in the history of the series.

– Stefani Stilton calls Diane in the middle of her immersive 3D spin clas- oh wait, she’s just biking.

– interesting detail “The Dog Days Are Over” mentions, but never returns to: Diane’s father was a professor of history at Tufts University.

– “I need younger, newer, fresher words to FEED THE BEAST!”

– Todd’s subplot is the most inane, lazy subplot ever, and I absolutely adored it.

– “I’m a sad, sad girl with a terrible, dirty apartment.”

– we should not take the sight of Stefani “accidentally” exterminating the entire IT department lightly.

– “You learn that you can survive being alone.”

A TV critic since the pre-Peak TV days of 2011, Randy is a critic and editor formerly of Sound on Sight, Processed Media, TVOvermind, Pop Optiq, and many, many others.

1 Comment

1 Comment

  1. Bob

    December 28, 2018 at 9:59 am

    That was really insightful, especially the part about how we define ourselves and the identity crisis that can occur when relationships end. Thanks.

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The Boys Season 2 Episode 4 Review: “Nothing Like It in the World”

The Boys’ growth remains fascinating, even in the bloated, repetitive “Nothing Like It in the World.”

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The Boys Nothing Like It In the World

Considering “Nothing Like It in the World” marks The Boys‘ semi-shift into a weekly series, it is a strange decision for that episode to be a bloated, 68-minute mess mostly reinforcing the worst tendencies of prestige streaming series. It’s poorly paced, from the episode’s timeline to its goofy attempts to parallel certain events (mostly people fucking), trading in coherency for volume, a dump of character beats, plot details, and back stories that all kind of just fall of a cliff by the end of it all.

Considering “Nothing Like It in the World” marks The Boys’ semi-shift into a weekly series, it is a strange decision for that episode to be a bloated, 68-minute mess… and yet, it is a fascinating hour of TV.

And yet, it is a fascinating hour of television; there are a lot of things, large and small, The Boys is doing differently in season two. The most important of these changes is the show’s shift away from strictly parodying superhero culture for the sake of cynical laughs, into something that uses the extremes and “big-ness” (official TV term) of its subjects more as a critical lens of the dystopia we call our own reality in 2020. The reveal of Stormfront as Liberty is probably the biggest tell in all of this; though it is obvious the writer’s room was paying attention to what Watchmen was doing, it still offers a more engaging villain than the vague corporate mysticism presiding over much of season one’s dramatics.

The Boys Nothing Like It In the World

Stormfront’s presence in this episode is light, but her weight is felt across the entire spectrum of The Boys; so much so we spend a good 20-plus minutes on the road trip bringing us to the reveal that she was murdering black children in North Carolina in the 1940’s under the identity Liberty. Racists who succeed, after all, are very good at one specific thing in the modern age: branding and pandering, a tactic Stormfront’s been applying on the fringes of season two with surgical precision, undercutting Homelander’s influence along the way.

Stormfront knows how to wield the most powerful tools in modern society: social media and hysteria, understanding that the neoliberal dream of being a leader “for everyone” is a shrinking idealistic dream. The deification of The Seven, in a lot of ways, neatly parallels what we see in the media when John McCain or Ruth Bader Ginsburg dies; rather than be treated as human beings, they’re treated as beacons of some ideal, an anchor for some arbitrarily-measured sense of moral quality. That deification is the very thing The Boys parodies in its superheroes; the inability to learn the dangers of that, of course, have dire consequences, ones being felt in both “Nothing Like it in the World” and ours.

The other major unifying concept of The Boys is examining the transactional nature of emotion; for The Deep, it is literally taking auditions for his Collective-approved wife, though it takes slightly subtler forms elsewhere, mostly involving characters getting naked with each other (look, The Boys is getting better, but it still has its repetitive streak, seen in three different boring-as-all-hell sex scenes). All three of those scenes, as ineffective an unsexy as they are (seriously – did anyone watch Normal People this year? There’s such thing as good sex on TV!!!), are effective because of what follows them; a series of rejections, engaging with the core cynicism of The Boys in a more challenging, surprising way.

The Boys Nothing Like It In the World

It would’ve been so easy for The Boys to get The Ladies on board – hell, the women in the Collective are ready to get on board to be The Deep’s wife – and yet, the writers took a more complicated approach, with Becca’s rejection of Butcher, Annie’s hesitation to reconcile with Hughie, and whoever the girl Frenchie showed up to bang for a scene and whine about Kimiko refusing to engage with his victim mentality. The latter might not be very consequential (given Frenchie’s limited influence on anything this season, how could it be), but the synchronizing of these three stories across the episode is interesting, an abject refusal by The Boys to be simple – or more importantly, to constantly pander to the needs of the men in the series.

(As poorly scripted, sequenced, and performed those scenes are, it is nice to see sex on TV just be some regular ass sex that doesn’t grant one party emotional dominion over the other).

Thankfully, “Nothing Like It in the World” is a little more than its most horizontal moments; as I prefaced in the opening paragraph, there’s all too much of this episode. There are some serious Choices in this episode that boggle the mind; interspersing The Deep’s interviews through the story (yes, I get the episode is feinting being about ‘love’, but a show as cynical as The Boys can’t really do romance) makes no sense, mostly existing as curious filler moments between a collection of scenes that all run on wayyyyy longer than they need, to get the point across.

Another example: we already saw a whole season of Homelander’s weird fetish for his now-dead boss; did we really need to Elisabeth Shue-horn her character back for two interminably long scenes? While her performance remains tic-y and weird (even playing a version of herself being projected by season one’s Doppleganger), Shue’s presence only harkens back to a different era for the young series, one still lacking in confidence, fumbling to find its voice. Then, she was a bit of a dramatic anchor for the series; in this fully formed, slightly weirder and quieter second season, she sticks out like a sore thumb, a landmark for a much lesser, simplistic action superhero series.

It’s sad to say, but Homelander is infinitely more compelling when being challenged by real presences; shifting attitudes of the public, combined with Stormfront’s casual dismissal of his narcissim, are driving Homelander to a more angry, desperate place than ever before. If anything, this hour really establishes him as the season’s big ticking time bomb; with Kenji’s wild card forcefully removed from the table and Stormfront’s confident Nazi-ism well established at this point, he’s the real variable of season two.

Vought the company’s mostly faded to the background, and the various members of the Seven are treadmilling through their story lines (boy, Maeve talks a lot about a character we never see!) – or in the case of A-Train, being told to get off the treadmill altogether. Maeve and A-Train’s stories continue to be disappointing in how little screen time they’re given; as objects to isolate Homelander, they’re effective, and intriguing in that kind of “ooo, who is going to win when the heroes start fucking each other up” kind of way. But as actual characters, they really aren’t doing shit: and while so much of The Boys is working really well, seeing these side plots awkwardly stumble through the main narrative in each episode is disappointing – and a little embarrassing, considering how little it seems both writers and performers are interested in the stories (basically extensions of season one: A-Train’s failing, Maeve’s floundering… let’s move forward, people!).

After this episode, The Boys can only move forward; if there’s one benefit to this episode being a massive dump of information and over-extended exchanges, it will be reaped in future episodes that don’t have to waste time with all this table-setting. It’s supremely annoying how streaming series pace themselves in 2020, but it is a byproduct of an industry running on hope and vague viewership numbers; the Big Moments really have to pop, so might as well clear the deck for those moments with episodes like “Nothing Like It in the World,” right?

Other thoughts/observations:

  • Did I miss something, or does Black Noir’s story just drop off the face of the earth in this episode? Wasn’t he going to go after Billy – why do we have to wait for next week for that?
  • I didn’t go into detail about the reveal around Mother’s Milk’s backstory, but boy, the Watchmen parallels are strong; the idea of inherited trauma is so powerful, and informs the character’s approach to the scene in North Carolina in a really sobering, thoughtful way.
  • I appreciate a show that respects its minor characters: Anika the analyst and Doppleganger returning help continue to build out a world for The Boys, which has a bad habit of forgetting an actual world exist outside of Hughie and the “heroes.”
  • Oh yeah, Frenchie’s on a bender,
  • Speaking of: how is Hughie walking around Central Park with no disguise, or attempt to conceal his identity? Isn’t he one of the most wanted men in America right now?
  • Those donuts were Fucking enormous. really bothered me when Annie said they went to Dunkin’ for chocolate cream-filled donuts, because those most certainly DID NOT exist when I was getting donuts there as a child. See? All heroes are lying pieces of shit!
  • “You have fans; I have soldiers.” Stormfront is so well-written; so glad Aya Cash was cast in this role.
  • I really should’ve stopped writing this review after the “Shue-horn” bit, huh.
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The Boys Season 2 Episode 3 Review: “Over the Hill With the Swords of a Thousand Men”

The Boys’ marks an improvement and pays big dividends in an explosive, violently revealing hour.

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The Boys Over the Hill With the Swords of a Thousand Men

Half bottle episode and half coming out party, “Over the Hill With the Swords of a Thousand Men” is a sneaky little showcase for The Boys, and just how big its world’s suddenly gotten in season two. Though ostensibly an episode designed around two events – the boys getting stuck on the boat, and Stormfront revealing her inner racist sociopath – “Over the Hill” navigates a number of brewing conflicts in fascinating ways, building and building until the violent explosion at the episode’s conclusion. With a nimble script and a game group of performers, The Boys‘ second season is turning out to be a distinct pleasure – albeit one heading down a gruesome, dark path I sure hope it’s capable of navigating.

“Over the Hill With the Swords of a Thousand Men” navigates a number of brewing conflicts in fascinating ways, building and building until the violent explosion at the episode’s conclusion.

It does take a little while for “Over the Hill With the Swords of a Thousand Men” to get going; beginning three miles offshore with The Boys and the reunited super-siblings, the first quarter feels like it’s simply restating the stakes. It’s a nimble trick, though; led by Kimiko and Kenji, The Boys begins to feel like it is approaching a true moral quandary for the group. Which door descending into hell will they choose?

The Boys Over the Hill With the Swords of a Thousand Men

While The Boys often likes to posture its presenting characters with complex dilemmas, the show’s unnerving nihilism often upends any sort of nuance it looks for in its debates around “necessary” violence. Here, Kimiko’s presence throws a fascinating wrench into the proceedings; with most of the group’s members clinging to whatever mirage of family they have left (save for Hughie, who has… forgotten his dad exists?), even Butcher can’t deny having conflicting feelings about what to do with Kenji, and the deal that’s been offered to him if he turns him in.

Elsewhere, “Over the Hill” throws the brazen personalities of The Seven into their own little blenders, as Stormfront begins to sow discord through Vought, and abuse her powers to casually murder a lot of people – nearly all of them minorities, in a way that feels like an explosion of character, rather than an unpeeling of some complicated identity. Stormfront simply doesn’t give a fuck; and with her supernatural ability to manipulate feminist views (her speech to the reporters is magnificent, both in how it develops Stormfront’s character and nods to the simplistic ways in which the evilest people in society disguise themselves among the “good”).

While she’s kicking up tornadoes and electrocuting everyone that gets in her way, characters like The Deep and Homelander continue to benefit from the much-improved writing of season two. The show is still struggling to make Becca something more than the Ultimate Mother Protector trope, but Homelander’s warped sense of responsibility to his son is interesting, surely a bad sign for the upbringing of this world’s Superboy (will he also don a cool leather jacket and weird cyberpunk sunglasses? Who knows!). It’s clearly not going well; even he seems to recognize the danger in bringing his son’s powers to the surface, as its the first time in his life he’s facing a challenge as the world’s strongest hero (that is, until Stormfront doubles that total later in the episode, further frustrating Homelander’s attempts to hold domain over everything in his grasp).

The Boys Over the Hill With the Swords of a Thousand Men

It’s not going well for The Deep, either, as his slow descent into cult life is bringing his desperation for acceptance further to the surface. Like with Homelander’s stories, I wish The Deep’s story was a little tighter and more thoughtful (some of the body image stuff seems to be treated trivially, in a way that borders on insensitive and uninformed for the sake of easy jokes), but there’s no denying his character is infinitely more interesting this season, a test case for what a superhero trying to learn their own limits would struggle with. The Deep works best as a pathetic character, but not when it’s a pathetic character The Boys just kick around with bad punchlines; when he’s treated as a byproduct of a deeply flawed human being trying to find a path to good intentions, his fumbles and weak-minded rhetoric is much more amusing – and at times, the tiniest bit empathic (his sadness over Billy’s, well, butchering of his whale buddy was such an earnest, raw and twistedly funny moment).

The Boys has needed to accelerate its internal stakes for a while; the introduction of “super terrorists” to the world by Homelander, and Compound V’s reveal to the public might make the show’s world feel a bit smaller than intended – I think a lot about the “big” fight scenes at the end of Arrow‘s third season, where the ‘entire city’ is fighting, but there’s never more than six people around – The Boys does that on a narrative level sometimes. But as the stories of the show dig a little deeper into its characters – Maeve’s disillusionment, Homelander’s failure to emulate paternal behavior, A-Train’s desperation, it’s beginning to feel like the writers have a deeper understanding of its characters and world, and how to wield its inherent sadistic cynicism to more interesting ends. “Over the Hill With the Swords of a Thousand Men” benefits massively from that, setting up a number of intriguing dominoes for the back half of season two to knock over (in bloody fashion).

Other thoughts/observations:

  • Look, I’m bummed how the Kenji character played out; he was such an interesting character, an examination of everything horrible about what power and war can do to a human being. It’s sad to see The Boys dispose of such an intriguing presence, especially as its a death of a minority character in service of mostly white-related stories – however, with such a hateful, nasty character like Stormfront waiting in the wings, it is easy to see how the writers found their way down that path. (like, she could’ve killed Black Noir and this show would’ve literally lost nothing… just sayin’).
  • Can A-Train just collapse or whatever, so we can get this storyline moving? We’ve been doing this since the second episode!
  • Why haven’t we seen any reaction to Becca seeing Butcher in person at the end of season one? She hasn’t mentioned it or even had a longing look off-screen to violin music.
  • Man, I’m so glad they cast Aya Cash as Stormfront.
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The Best Golden Girl is Sophia Petrillo

Sophia Petrillo was a legend in her own mind who always had her way and like Mighty Mouse, always won.

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Sophia Petrillo The Golden Girls

A seemingly harmless little old lady with curly white hair, oversized glasses, and an innate ability to tell a great story shows up on her daughter’s doorstep when the retirement home she was put in by said daughter burns down. With a simple, “Hi there,” the world meets Sophia Petrillo. For seven years on NBC’s The Golden Girlsa show about the senior set—Sophia lived with her intelligent and extremely sarcastic divorced daughter Dorothy Zbornak and her two roommates, sexy, eternally horny southern belle Blanche Devereaux and sweet but dim-witted Minnesotan Rose Nylund. Each is memorable in their own way, but it’s Sophia, “feisty, zesty, and full of old-world charm,” that stands out the most.

When TV was full of generic, sweet grandma types, Sophia was anything but. Sure, she looked the part with her bifocals, pearls, and now iconic straw and bamboo-beaded handbag, but Sophia was always trying to make a quick buck. She conned Rose into going into a sandwich-making business that pit them against the mob, faked being paralyzed to try and collect insurance, and constantly “borrowed” money from Dorothy’s purse. Instead of helping Dorothy, Blanche and Rose get out of jail when they are mistaken for hookers (don’t ask, just Youtube it). She stole their tickets to go to a party and meet Burt Reynolds. She also stole Rose’s car, worked at a fast-food restaurant, and won a marathon. Not bad for a woman in her eighties. Sophia had a sharp wit and an acerbic tongue, blaming her stroke for leaving her without the ability to self-censor. She was always ready with a zinger or a comeback, some of which she saved for her very own daughter.

Sophia Petrillo The Golden Girls

Sophia Petrillo is the Secret Star of The Golden Girls

That’s not to say she’s all schemes and insults. Beneath her tough exterior is a kind woman with a big heart who loves her family and friends. Viewers don’t often get to see her softer side, which makes the moments they do seem that much more special. One of the best Sophia episodes showed her reaction to the death of her son, Phil. She put up a wall of anger which Rose was finally able to break down in the final moments of the episode, revealing Sophia’s true feelings of guilt over Phil’s cross-dressing as she bursts into tears. Another favourite was when Dorothy expressed concern about her mother not doing enough with her days. We then get to see exactly what she gets up to sticking up for her friend and causing a scene at the grocery store while claiming to represent a fictional senior citizens union, volunteering at a sick kids hospital and later, conducting a senior citizens jazz band. Meanwhile, Dorothy, Rose, and Blanche do next to nothing except sit around and eat. When she’s asked what she did all day upon her return, she simply says she bought a nectarine, and Dorothy, Rose, and Blanche are none the wiser.

But if Sophia has one claim to fame, it is her colorful old-world tales about Sicily, which often as not, contain a pearl of wisdom or embellishment of some kind. We would have loved to have known her during her “picatta period (a wedge of lemon and a smart answer for everything),” when she was the most beautiful girl at a resort and all the men fought over her (so beautiful, in fact, that she had “a butt you could bounce a quarter off of”). She was also once painted by Picasso and was best friends with Mama Celeste. But I digress. Sophia Petrillo was a legend in her own mind who always had her way and like Mighty Mouse, always won. Her hunches were never wrong, and rarely, if ever did she meet her match. Sophia was, in short, a one-woman show. And thanks to re-runs and fan appreciation, that show will never be gone.

  • Dasilva

Editor’s Note: This article was originally published under our old brand, Sound On Sight.

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