Pony Problems

BoJack Horseman’s final season wrestles with guilt and forgiveness.

- JEN CHANEY

THE “DIFFICULT MEN” era of modern television theoretically ended when Mad Men concluded back in 2015. But look around. There are still plenty of television shows that center on male anti-heroes: narcissistic, unethical, and/or criminal guys who seem incapable of change. There’s Better Call Saul and Ozark and Narcos (now Narcos: Mexico) and The New Pope and Ray Donovan. Bad dudes struggling to touch base with their inner Jiminy Crickets haven’t entirely disappeared from the TV landscape, but the TV landscape has swelled to such an extent over the past five years that they feel less central to it. There’s more space than ever to tell episodic stories and more freedom to center those stories on people who aren’t awful guys coming to terms with their bad behavior.

That brings me to BoJack Horseman, the brilliant Netflix series about a man—well, technically, a horse—who possesses all the qualities of a classic TV anti-hero. He’s self-involved, inconsiderate, alcoholic, drug-addicted, sometimes misogynistic, emotionally abusive, and largely oblivious to the consequences of his actions, and he has spent five and a half seasons trying desperately to change all that. The second half of BoJack’s sixth and final season allows him one last grasp at redemption.

Because