11x22 Vampire Disco Death Dance

[7.8/10] You’re never going to go wrong doing a Rocky Horror homage in my book. There’s a lot of fun to be had from Bob’s Burgers riffing on the cult classic, replete with some well-observed awkwardness from grown-up chaperones, attempts at intergenerational bonding, and dumb things that entertain middle-schoolers. Jocelyn in particular is, always, a laugh riot with every line.

But as usual with this show, there’s something deeper there. I love Tina trying to make the most of her semi-dumb friend group, trying to make them something they’re not, or at least tolerate them, because they’re the only friends she has. And I like Bob’s efforts to try to share something with his daughter at the same time, to take something that made him feel a little less alone and gift it to her, even as these sorts of things have a hard time translating across eras.

The B-story is a lot of fun too! Linda going a little too far in trying to craft the perfect dinner for her raccoon buddies when she discovers some pint-sized furniture is a hoot. Gene’s attempts at jazz and Louise’s pyromania are both amusing beats for the Belcher kids. And Linda’s epiphany, that she was doing this for her, not for the racoons, is simple but effective. Her opening the dumpster to keep them from fighting, while resolving to clean-up the mess, is a nice way to cap a lighter subplot.

It’s the main plot that really moved me though. I love Bob’s speech about how he felt much as Tina did when he was her age. But going to this Rocky Horror-esque film, seeing like-minded misfits willing to dress up and enjoy something weirder than the mainstream would allow made him feel less alone. It let him know that there were like-minded folks out there, that he would find his tribe (or at least Linda) eventually. It provides comfort to Tina (especially when her friends semi-like the movie too.) And it brings her and her dad closer together in their silly, “Time Warp”-esque dance.

The story resonates for Bob’s Burgers because the show itself serves the same purpose for a lot of people. The Internet has changed the game. Now it’s easier than ever to seek out folks who share your interests, right down to specific obscure shows or cult favorites, in ways that weren’t so easy in Bob’s day. But despite airing on a major network (or at least Fox, which is close enough), Bob’s Burgers is itself a clarion call for misfits and weirdos who appreciate the show’s willingness to embrace the goofy and off and awkward with heart and understanding. To send that message from father to daughter in-universe, and send it to the fans watching at home at the same time, is a beautiful thing.

Kurt Vonnegut once wrote, “Many people need desperately to receive this message: 'I feel and think much as you do, care about many of the things you care about, although most people do not care about them. You are not alone.” Bob’s Burgers may not use those exact words, but in its own wonderful, off-kilter way, it sends that message every episode.