scene analysis: “free churro” from bojack horseman

Bojack Horseman, an animated comedy-drama series created by Raphael Bob-Waksberg, narrates the post-stardom life of its titular character, an alcoholic humanoid horse previously famous for starring in the 90s sitcom, Horsin’ Around. The Netflix comedy series has been known for its diverse commentary on social issues, including the hollowness of the Hollywood industry, the pain of coping with intergenerational trauma, and the corrupt hypocrisy of modern American media. The Emmy-nominated episode “Free Churro” shows Bojack attempting to give a eulogy at the funeral of his estranged mother, Beatrice Horseman. The former sitcom star was only able to provide a few comments about his mother and then resorted to performing a bitterly introspective stand-up routine. In the 20 minute monologue of “Free Churro”, Bojack Horseman raises the concept that unlike in television, suffering in real life can not always be interpreted in ways that conveniently redeems or justifies it. The unorthodox employment of cinematography, editing, sound, and acting to incite a jarring notion of grief and levity sets Bojack Horseman apart from conventional adult animation in American history.

What makes the production of the “Free Churro” episode of Bojack Horseman seem so novel is its utter disregard for conventional modern television tropes and aesthetics. The style of the episode most resembles an art movement known as “smart cinema”, a school of filmmaking originating from the 1990s that is characterized by cynicism, irony, and what has been described by Jeffrey Sconce as “a complex mix of antagonism toward and dependence on Hollywood, feeding it and at the same time living off it.” However, despite the common perception that ironic media lacks any moral agenda and is therefore complacent, the reality is often the opposite. The utilization of irony is a rhetorical strategy meant to effectively produce social commentary and “ally oneself with sympathetic peers and to distance oneself from the vast 'other" audience, however defined, which is often the target of the speaker's or artist's derision.” (Sconce, 2002) Without a doubt, Bojack Horseman isn’t the first of its kind to combine irony and sensitive topics; however, as an animated medium, it’s clear that Bojack Horseman’s consistent attempts to experiment with novel forms of storytelling is far from common.

The cinematographic choices utilized within the eulogy scene are strangely characterized by brevity and similitude with the occasional use of exceptions to achieve an ironic effect. The initial style of the scene is like that of an aesthetic preference in smart cinema known as “blankness”, described as “an attempt to convey a film's story, no matter how sensationalistic, disturbing or bizarre, with a sense of dampened effect.” (Sconce, 2002) All of the shots in the scene frame Bojack as the subject for several seconds long; the majority of those shots in the scene are also framed to be either close-ups or medium shots, shots frequently used to simulate the human experience of proximity and intimacy (Barsam & Monahan, 2016). The initial neutrality of the scene is furthered by the use of eye-level shots instead of using high or low angles. We are then led to believe that Bojack is a character to view objectively, if not sympathetically, in this scene. The few distinct deviations from these static shots of Bojack are long shots framing him at the funeral podium in the background addressing his late mother resting in the casket in the foreground. Such shots are only used when Bojack cracks a morbid joke at his mother’s expense with remarks such as “Knock once if you love me”; the framing of the shot implies that his dead mother inside the casket is meant to be a participant in Bojack’s conversation, the futility of which completely obvious and therefore ironic. The remainder of the shots are otherwise static and disengaged, with one of the only exceptions showing Bojack reeling from realizing what his mother’s last words, “I see you”, meant. A large portion of Bojack’s eulogy was him self-theorizing whether “I see you” was a sign of his mother finally acknowledging him after a lifetime of neglect. He then begins a tangent by recalling visiting his mother at the intensive care unit and the realization sets in. The camera zooms in closer as Bojack repeats “ICU”. As the camera finally stops, Bojack realizes his mother was merely reading the sign of the medical room they were in. Adjusting the camera movement so dramatically highlights this sudden moment of irony; breaking away from the established pattern of static shots to quietly displace the audience is an ironic choice in itself. Using the utmost amount of minimal framing and camera movement, Bojack Horseman then successfully achieves the balance of irony and gravity cinematographically.

Creating an apathetic ironic tone can be cleverly done so through cultivating a blank style as mentioned earlier; Bojack Horseman applies this approach similarly in the editing of the scene but includes a reversal of the blank style towards the end of the episode. The editing style at the beginning of the scene, like the cinematographic style, is initially scarce and devoid of a clear emotional motive; the cuts are scarce and limit the temporal and spatial relationship between shots. There are no instances of parallel editing or point of view editing to indicate a change to the setting of the scene (all cuts are only different camera angles showing Bojack) nor are there any flashbacks, ellipsis, or montages to indicate a change in time (Barsam & Monahan, 2016). As such, the rhythm of the scene is kept to a passive, predictable rate and the cuts are meant to be subtle. Once again, the blank style of smart cinema has been applied at the beginning for a sense of continuous neutrality. Having been accustomed to the impartial rhythm of the scene, the audience is then submitted to the most notable change in both subject and framing, where Bojack finally realizes that he’s been giving the eulogy at the wrong funeral. As Bojack faces the audience, we are given the first and only eye-line match cut in the scene: a wide shot of a crowd of mourning lizards who obviously have no relation to the bitter 54-year old horse and his late mother. For once, we are taken out of the headspace of Bojack and placed into the reality of the situation, finally introduced to the unfortunate environment in which we have been watching Bojack speak. The radical juxtaposition of the wide shot of the lizard audience with 20 minutes of close-ups of Bojack sends the audience into tragicomic shock. As Bojack searches through his pockets for the funeral pamphlet, asking “Is this Funeral Parlor B?”, all of the emotional pain built up by Bojack’s monologue is immediately dispelled in favor of the one tragically ironic punchline that ends the show. Bojack Horseman betraying the audience by leaving them with one unfortunate joke after giving them 20 minutes of someone processing their trauma is a stellar use of irony to instill despair and levity simultaneously during a grievous moment.

Bojack Horseman being an animated series creates an interesting consolidation between acting and sound as manipulatable aesthetic facets, which allows the show to control its emotional tone with aesthetic techniques not commonly done in television. The specific nuances of animation redefine what it means to perform in a physical and auditory context. For one, Will Arnett’s performance must be evaluated through only his voice. It may be tempting to call Arnett’s role non-naturalistic as Bojack is quite literally a half-man, half-horse creature with a drinking problem, but Arnett’s portrayal of a clinically depressed, dysfunctional being with severe relapses in moral judgment is quite believable. Arnett’s voice as an extremely gravelly and low-pitched sound perfectly carries the heaving, emotional burden of Bojack’s character. As said by AV Club, “You can hear every last bit of forced levity, resentment, and genuine pain as BoJack tries to find some way to come to terms with Bea’s death, and his feelings or lack thereof about the matter.” Technically speaking, the mixing of the soundtrack of “Free Churro” continues to support Arnett’s performance. In terms of consistency, dialogue is the primary audio element of the scene and dominates the soundscape with minimal mixing with sound effects or music. The quality of Bojack’s voice remains loud and clear no matter how far or close the camera is away from him; no reverberation is added to his voice despite the scene taking place in a funeral room. We are then forced to note every fluctuation in the timbre of Arnett’s speech, especially the swallowed cracks in his voice when Bojack painfully cries “You’re my mom - all I had was you.” In isolating the soundscape of the funeral scene to primarily hinge on Will Arnett’s performance, “Free Churro” builds the gravity of Bojack’s grief in order to propel the emotional landscape of the episode.

Without the unorthodox development of cinematography, editing, and combined elements of sound and acting, the “Free Churro” episode of Bojack Horseman would not have created the startling tragicomic disparity that has earned it its Emmy nomination in 2019. The show in its entirety has tactfully incorporated several uncompromisingly brutal topics with individualistic subversiveness. In being the 21st century apotheosis of modern smart cinema, Bojack Horseman has become a brand new Hollywood standard that all forms of adult animation should look up to.

Works Cited

Barsam, R., and D. Monahan. Looking at Movies: An Introduction to Film. 5th ed., W.W. Norton & Company, 2016.

Chappell, Les. “BoJack Horseman Delivers a Jaw-Dropping Eulogy and Once Again Raises the Bar for Concept Episodes.” The A.V. Club, www.avclub.com/bojack-horseman-delivers-a-jaw-dropping-eulogy-and-once-1829050401.

Chion, Michel. Audio-Vision: Sound on Screen. Columbia U.P., 2019. Sconce, J. “Irony, Nihilism and the New American Smart Film.” Screen, vol. 43, no. 4, Jan. 2002, pp. 349–369., doi:10.1093/screen/43.4.349.