A Note on The Life-Affirming Endings of “The Good Place” and “BoJack Horseman”
Why finality is necessary, and why "The Good Place" and "BoJack Horseman" understand finality best.
Warning: spoilers for “The Good Place” and “BoJack Horseman”
Nailing a series finale is really difficult. It carries the burdensome responsibility of tying up loose plot ends, closing out character arcs, keeping up with expectations without coming off too predictable, and giving us one last great scene to bring it all home. Some TV shows have been more successful than others in accomplishing this tricky task, but the key ingredient to a truly remarkable finish lies not just in the execution, but in the payoff. It should be able to justify why the story needs to exist in the first place and why it needs to end.
This past week, Netflix’s transcendent animated tragicomedy “BoJack Horseman” and NBC’s equally magnificent afterlife sitcom “The Good Place” ended their runs and both shows, thankfully, provided us with tremendous, thoughtful endings. Despite their differences in format and commercial appeal, “BoJack Horseman” and “The Good Place” surprisingly have a lot more in common than one would think.
They’ve both amassed swaths of critical acclaim and passionate fanbases. They’ve each explored themes of death and existential anxiety through intricate plotting and wacky, experimental storytelling templates. Their flawed yet deeply relatable characters learned to overcome their squabbles in order to rely on one another for guidance and love. And their finales share a wholesome and simple message, a powerful sigh of relief in the face of the waking, dread-induced nightmare that is everyday life: the end is not as scary as it seems.
In the occasionally inspired but clunky fourth and final season of “The Good Place,” Eleanor and her five postmortem pals—Chidi Anagonye (William Jackson Harper), Jason Mendoza (Manny Jacinto), Tahani Al Jamil (Jameela Jamil), Michael (Ted Danson), and Janet (D’Arcy Carden)—attempt to persuade the Judge (Maya Rudolph) that they belong in the Good Place. For a program built on a story engine that never seemed to lose steam, “The Good Place” left me a bit exhausted by its aggressive sincerity and hyper-speed pacing as it inched its way toward its final moments. Luckily, in the poignant hour-long denouement, titled “Whenever You’re Ready,” creator-writer-director Mike Schur dials the madcap energy down a notch, allowing each character a chance to say their goodbyes and find their own peace in eternity once they’ve reached the Good Place.
The series finale reminded me a lot of HBO’s “The Leftovers,” another show that dealt with uncertainty and closure, but examined them through much more dramatic and grim circumstances. As a network comedy, “The Good Place” benefitted from a sort of magical Wizard of Oz quality, in which Schur’s zany wit and absurd gags went hand-in-hand with his signature celebration of kindness and friendship. Combined with the magnetic charm of the show’s ensemble and the already iconic characters they inhabit, these elements made the ending all the more soulful, as Eleanor and co. each take their time basking in the abundant offerings of the hereafter before dissipating into the ether forever.
Eleanor, in particular, learns to accept the painful but very necessary reality of letting go, not just of her soulmate Chidi when he decides to leave the Good Place for good, but of her own existence when she decides to leave as well. There’s only so much life—or in this case, afterlife—you can live before it becomes boring and unfulfilling. The same logic can be applied to TV storytelling: there’s only so much story a TV show can explore before it loses its meaningfulness.
While neither as sweetly earnest nor as narratively knotty as “The Good Place,” “BoJack Horseman” offers a similarly hopeful, if somewhat more grounded and profound resolution. Over the course of its immaculate six seasons (save for its so-so first one), “BoJack” dissected its titular anthropomorphic antihero (voiced by Will Arnett) bit by bit, forcing him to endure drug-induced benders, failed creative projects, and self-destructive rabbit holes before hitting rock bottom for the umpteenth time. In the second half of its blistering sixth season, we find BoJack slowly getting back on his feet, attending AA meetings and teaching an intermediate acting class at Wesleyan—that is, until almost every single person he’s wronged comes back to haunt him.
In contrast to the heartfelt, gooey emotional core of “The Good Place,” “BoJack Horseman” embraces a much more fatalistic and morbid approach toward its ending, despite what the show’s colorful aesthetic grandeur and loopy humor may imply. The penultimate episode “The View from Halfway Down” finds BoJack stuck in a surreal quasi-limbo state, where deceased members of his past gathered at a fancy dinner party, reminiscing on their best moments and lamenting their worst. They try to persuade BoJack into abandoning his codependent tendencies so that death can consume him once and for all, if only to rid himself of his perpetual self-loathing and cast away the trauma he’s inflicted on everyone around him.
But just as it seems like BoJack is about to accept his fate, the finale “Nice While It Lasted” reveals that he’s alive and serving time for breaking and entering his old house, which led to him almost drowning his pool and the subsequent sort-of dream spiral. As depressing as it would have been to see the show’s main character die right before the series ended, it wouldn’t have been so illogical. Thank goodness, though, that creator-writer Raphael Bob-Waksberg has too big of a heart to let such a compelling journey go to waste. He dedicates the show’s farewell to BoJack’s last encounters with his primary circle of friends—Todd (Aaron Paul), Princess Carolyn (Amy Sedaris), Mr. Peanutbutter (Paul F. Tompkins), and Diane (Alison Brie), each of whom offer their own morsel of wisdom.
Mr. Peanutbutter reinforces his loyalty to BoJack, Princess Carolyn promises to help him get back on his feet after his prison sentence, Todd reassures him that things will turn around if he lets them, and Diane thanks him, despite knowing that they may never talk again. BoJack’s final conversation with Diane is a particular standout for its brutal honesty. Rather than redeem and forgive him, Diane tells BoJack up front: “There are people who help you become the person you end up being, but they're not meant to stay in your life forever.” Not only does this line join one of many brilliant quotes from the show, but it feels almost like a thesis for the purpose of storytelling: fictional characters aren’t meant to exist forever, but their existence does help shape our understanding of our own.
By no means are these finales perfect—and they don’t have to be. “The Good Place” illustrates how endings aren’t really endings, but mere turning points in the grand scheme of the universe. “BoJack Horseman” deepens that idea even further, suggesting that endings are vital for personal and spiritual growth, acting as opportunities to understand our capacity for change and our potential to continue evolving until we finally reach a place of contentment. Together, their endings synthesize into one life-affirming sentiment: An ending doesn’t have to be happy or finite or answer every question to be good or satisfying. It just needs to make sense.
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