6x14 Angela

[8.6/10] There’s often one line or stretch of an episode of BoJack that sums up the central idea of the episode. It’s usually a meaningful monologue of some kind, possibly one like the one in this episode, put over a montage of our protagonists in some state of contemplation or distress. Sometimes it’s a bit much, but oftentimes, it helps put a bow on everything we’ve seen.

Here, that’s Diane’s speech to Mr. Peanutbutter about what it’s like to be her. She talks about a constant feeling of your life being a puzzle, but one combining different sets, to where you feel like nothing fits. And then you realize, maybe it’s you that doesn't fit.

That’s a harrowing statement, one that everyone in the main cast has grappled with. Except that Diane posits there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, where you start finding a puzzle you belong in, and it’s worrying at first, but eventually it feels like home. That’s just as heartening as it is disconcerting to hear the “lost puzzle piece” analogy in the first place. And it’s true for most everyone.

Diane has found a lot of the success and happiness that she’s always been looking for. Her book is successful enough that she’s called for a signing. She’s comfortable enough with her relationship with Guy that she’s happy to move to Houston with nothing more than a word that Sonny is moving there with his mom. She’s happy with the person she’s become, fulfilled by the connection her work has for kids like Sonny and happy to be an “us” not a “me.”

Mr. Peanutbutter is still working on himself, but he’s finding out how to be a “me” not an “us” and it seems like a type of growth from him. He’s been a sillier, more comic relief character, but he too has had an arc of sorts. So it’s nice to see him find his own shade of self-assurance and progress, where he’s ready to really listen Diane (even if he finds writing frustratingly easy -- an amusing gag), and reassures her that if they’d met each other now, they wouldn’t be the people they were now, because their past relationship helped them get to this separate, happy place for both of them. It’s a beautiful sentiment that puts a nice button on things for them.

Todd gets a chance to grow too. His “puzzle where I don’t fit” situation is his family, where he was kicked out and felt like he didn’t belong, or at least that his mother didn’t want him. I’ll admit, the path to get to a repaired relationship with his mom is a little zany, but I like the two of them hashing that decision out, acknowledging that Todd has grown up (at least to some degree), but finding a place they can occupy in one another’s life.

Plus, classic Todd shenanigans! For all the dramatic stuff in this episode, I like that we also get to tie a bow on the business with Character Actress Margo Martindale! Todd concocting a zany scheme to allow his mom to “save” his life and pay back his kidney donation is a lot of fun. Martindale is a hoot as always, and her causing a panic attack due to being too damn good at acting is hilarious. The closing scene where she gets out of going to jail by needing to be in another indie film got a solid chuckle out of me.

The other person who feels strangely at home now is Princess Carolyn. I’ll admit, I don’t know if I really needed a romance between her and Judah, but I don’t mind it either. He’s always been there for her, supported her, and gone the extra mile for her, and that’s nice to see in a show where PC is always sacrificing her own happiness for other people. There’s something very Mad Men about where they go with that, but there’s worse blueprints to follow. (And Judah’s adorable literal, and very sweet song helps grease the wheels.)

I like where it takes PC professionally as well. The offer to run her own studio division is a great opportunity for someone who’s worked so hard to get where she is. And I like the notion that she’s gotten so lost in her work that she’s forgotten what her dreams were and isn’t quite sure what she wants. But the idea of building something that’s her own rather than taking a slice of something that somebody else built feels very true to her self-sufficient ethos, and if nothing else, I appreciate that Judah is a part of that, not an alternative to that.

But that leads us to BoJack, and one of the darkest, saddest chapters in his life, which is saying something. He gets a call from Angela, the executive who convinced him to turn his back on Kazz. He’s clearly relapsed, and already not in the best mindset. Angela offers him a faustian bargain -- they’ll edit him out of Horsin’ Around reruns so the studio can still make money off the show without the negative associations of his presence, but he’l have to sign away his back end for a one-time pay-off. Angela dresses it up as honoring Sarah Lynn and giving her legacy beyond being the girl that he killed, but it’s more craven B.S. just meant to keep the money train rolling.

BoJack guiltily signs the contract, but nearly burns it when she admits that she was bluffing when she told him that he had no choice but to throw Kazz under the bus back in the nineties. He blames every bad thing on that choice, on that lie, on a decision he feels manipulated into. But Angela gives him an “everything is bullshit” speech, and given where BoJack’s life is right now, he’s willing to believe it.

Because he is that puzzle piece that doesn't fit anymore. He’s not allowed to exist in the world as he once did. He’s literally being edited out of his own show. He returns to a house that he doesn't own and doesn't belong in anymore. And he sees the bright young aspiring actor who has the best brought out of him by his best friend, and when the clip ends, sees the haggard, drunk, horse who’s ruined it all staring back at him.

That’s a hard look. “Angela” sees so many of the characters having found peace, having made things better in their lives and grown by finding the place where they belong and the people they belong with. BoJack just gets message after message that he doesn't belong anywhere, that he’s hurt everyone he’s crossed paths with, that he’s the piece that doesn't fit, and it’s scary to contemplate where that might lead him.