Welcome to What Horse Is He Right Now Dot Com, a collection of stories by The Dot and Line about BoJack Horseman Season 5.

New BoJack Horseman Vehicle ‘Philbert’ Is Tired Noir That Can’t Escape Its Misogyny

Early reviews of Philbert—the new prestige drama starring BoJack Horseman, Gina Cazador, and Mr. Peanutbutter and written, directed, and probably executive produced by self-declared genius Flip McVicker for What Time Is It Right Now?’s new creative studio—debuts September 14th, but has already been received with raves in all the Hollywoo trades. Don’t let those early reviews fool you: They’re reflective of the pre–Harvey Weimaranerstein era of Hollywoo, not our own. Even the high production value and Horsin’ Around star Horseman’s commendable, if less than transformative, turn as the eponymous dead-eyed, uxoricidal detective can’t save this tired, misogynistic True Detective knockoff from itself.

Which is not to say the show doesn’t have its moments. A breakout performance by Cazador in particular has been lauded, and justly, as signaling the arrival of an A-tier actress—one who was, in fact, already here, albeit nauseatingly overlooked by (mostly male) critics and woefully underutilized by (mostly male) directors. The riveting finale, too, feels like a revelation compared to the rest of the series, with uncannily realistic acting from Horseman accentuating a screenplay so grimly nuanced, and so adept at spotlighting the quietly-yet-violently sexist Philbert’s many, many flaws that it almost feels like it was penned by another writer entirely—almost definitely a woman, who would, inevitably, remain uncredited. And Horseman’s performance overall is quite good (in spite of the grossly mishandled material he was fed), with Mr. Peanutbutter turning in a career-best performance as well, for what that’s worth.

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In fact, almost everything about Philbert should add up, with its Cary Fukunaga–esque camerawork, elegantly sepia-toned neo-noir throwback lighting that really hasn’t gotten old at all—no, not one bit—and tight cast with better-than-average performances. But finally, Philbert is scuttled by, in addition to its outrageous over-hype, a self-aggrandizing yet juvenilely chauvinistic script from McVicker, who will undoubtedly be praised and receive even more excessive accolades for it nonetheless. Those accolades—however golden and shiny and Art-Deco-angel-holding-a-World’s-Fair-globe-shaped they may be—will be misplaced. Had McVicker had the self-awareness to bring on a writer of real substance and nuance—a Nic Pizzolatto circa 2014, say, or, and I know this is stretching it, a goddamn woman—maybe Philbert would have phlown. Instead, Flip flopped, and Philbert phlounders for it.

Grade: C+

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