“Sometimes, when you get home from a long day of getting kicked in the urethra, you just want to watch a show about good, likable people who love each other, where, you know, no matter what happens, at the end of 30 minutes, everything’s gonna turn out okay.”

Not in BoJack Horseman.

If you’ve never watched BH before, go give it a try. Really. Do it. This blog post will be here when you get back. I promise. BH is a shockingly heavy comedy, a dark look at celebrity and depression that walks a perfect knife-edge between hilarious and horribly sad. It’s one of my favorite TV shows (is it still a TV show if it was exclusively on Netflix?), and I really do think everyone should watch it.

Before we get into the meat of the episode: can we talk about the intro for a moment? The style is incredible – fuzzed and blurred, with consistent changes from episode to episode – keep your eyes on that Hollywoo sign. The eventual fall into the pool is made into a gut-punch by the last episode, but not for the reason you’d assume. The direction by Mike Roberts is absolutely brilliant. Speaking of direction – creator Raphael Bob-Waksberg is an absolute genius, and not just because of this show. I’ve been a fan of Bob-Waksberg ever since his work in the Olde English comedy troupe, but he also maintains an active blog where he answers questions about BH with depth and poise. For a good example, check out his post on gender in comedy and cartoons.

Now for the meat.

BoJack Horseman has something of a now-conventional animated show setup in this episode – drunk, boorish man as a main character, sidekick who is something of a stoner burnout, girlfriend who appears Type-A and more of a Real Person. But it spins away from those stereotypes pretty quickly. Take note of everything every character says in this episode, by the way; as I will say many, many times, running mantras and motifs come back to haunt us big-time. Quick example: Todd, BH’s stoner housemate, tells BoJack that “even though you don’t want people to know it, you secretly have a good heart.” This childlike faith is important to remember, because we won’t see it for much longer.

It’s a bold choice to start the series with BH and his girlfriend, Princess Carolyn, breaking up. I think it works on a thematic level, dealing with the constant death spiral of BH’s life, and gives us a good picture of who BH is, but on the other hand it’s jarring to have a breakup with a character we’ve never met. It’s unconventional, which is good but bound to be startling.

The overall plot of the show is “someone is writing a memoir about BoJack,” and oh do I love the commentary on book writing. More on that when we get to episode 11, but the whole narrative of the struggling Penguin Publisher is hilarious – and painfully accurate. “When was the last time you saw a book?” I will say, though; I am not sure how I feel about having the owner of Penguin Publisher be an actual penguin. On one hand it’s a nice introduction to this world of animal people, but on the other hand it’s a little too on-the-nose for me. I dunno. They subvert it with later characters, so I’ll let it slide.

Speaking of animals as people: Mr. Peanutbutter. Oh, we will talk about PB. At the party at the end of the episode, we get one of the most honest PB moments in the series. He asks BoJack, with perfect sincerity: “Seriously, how are you?” When BoJack goes to answer seriously, PB closes his eyes and says “Livin the dream, huh? Yeah” and then walks off to the ever-present but invisible Erica, before telling BoJack “I want to TALK to YOU.” PB is…well, I’ll save the major analysis for later on in the show, when we get some heavier PB moments. But suffice to say there’s more to him than meets the eye, and he represents more than just comic relief. BH says about him “he’s so stupid he doesn’t realize how miserable he should be. I envy that.” BH is almost right…but not quite. He envies PB, but PB might not be as stupid as he looks.

This episode also introduces us to the mantra “Hey, aren’t you the Horse from Horsin’ Around?” Like so many other gags, this has a serious emotional punch in the denoument.

Another solid reference: the fact that Diane Nguyen, in this show, wrote the biography of Secratariat. We get the one-off line where BoJack mentions he’s always wanted to play Sec in a movie – in fact, “he’s kind of my personal hero,” BoJack says. Once more laying the groundwork for emotional payoff in the ultimate conclusion.

Todd’s strange gangster/cartel backstory with Gabriela (“Gabriela, why?” says Todd, as he wipes a tear away) is awkward. In a show full of long-term consistencies, this is an odd backstory to just forget about. Yes, it gives us a reason for Todd to throw the party, but would we really have cared if Todd just threw a party for some other reason? More importantly, how does it tie into Todd’s life in a serious way? In the flashback, we hear that Todd was trying to sell E on the cartel’s turf…but that doesn’t necessarily gel with the image of the stay-at-home loser that we get later in the season. With any luck, we’ll get more of that cartel story next season, but for now it’s something of a sour note in the first episode, and one without an eventual payoff.

The BoJack anxiety attack jokes are also a little odd – we never get anything else relating to anxiety attacks and BoJack throughout the season. The jokes were all hilarious, of course – a mild anxiety attack? “I’d hate to see what spicy looks like!” I always soured on them the first few times I watched the show, but on reflection I think it was a good way to illustrate how on-edge BoJack’s mental state is – one step away from catastrophe. BoJack Horseman is a show about depression that never mentions depression, and this is the closest we get to a diagnosis. The fact that it never comes up again is odd – like I said, this show is all about the long con, so plot points that don’t get long-conned fall sort of flat on a rewatch.

The mariachi frogs are one of my favorite moments in the entire show, if only for the third mariachi man who, despite being human, still has the frog-frown and upturned chin. Visual gags abound throughout the whole 12-episode story, mostly ones introducing us subtly to the idea that this is a fantasy world where there are animals that act like humans and that’s just how it is, dammit. The party is a great mix of animals and humans – it’s a quinceañera, so there are teenage girls…and a few teenage chihuahuas.

And, at the party, we meet our last member of the main cast – DIANE! Ah, Diane. Her awkward party dialog with BJ is probably something I’ve said word-for-word at real life parties to real life people and horses. She also introduces us to the mantra “Thank you for inviting me into your house. You have a lovely home,” something that, for some odd reason, keeps popping up. The show has several of these mantras, and they direct us to notice this continuous thematic thread that runs through the season and defines the show not as a collection of episodes but as a true long narrative in chapter form.

I believe that, for the record; that the show should be treated as one long entity. Erik Adams of the A.V. Club gave BH a C+ after the first six episodes, which, in my opinion, is like saying the first half of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone doesn’t make any sense. Of course it doesn’t – the story isn’t over yet. BH is one continuous narrative split up into twelve sitcom-length episodes, and that’s intentional. There’s this whole meta-concept of satirizing the sitcom, so obviously the show is going to put things in 20-minute episodic format. But it’s probably better to look at it as a miniseries. The first six episodes might feel empty on their own because the overall story has its ultimate payoff in the last two or three episodes.

The episode ends with a shot pulling away from BJ’s mansion, showing the mountain of cotton candy he just vomited off the balcony. It’s a good visual gag (PUN INTENDED) but also serves as a little hint: when someone throws up, it doesn’t just disappear into the void. It stays there, and we have to see it. Okay, that’s a disgusting reminder. But it’s one of the metathemes of the show: damage is consistent. When BJ’s ottoman gets burned, it stays burnt. When Hollywood becomes Hollywoo, it stays that way. Actions have consequences in this strange world.

I would give the episode an overall B. I realize that might sound harsh, but this grade is relative to the overall quality of the show. Which, by the way, is a solid A. There are some jokes that fall flat, like the writers are still getting their sea legs. But it does its job of introducing us and compelling us to keep watching for the next episode. And, as Mr. Peanutbutter says, “Always a Clydesdale, never a Clyde.” Exactly, PB. Exactly.