Like schoolboys, my friend Charlie and I send each other coded messages. One of these is “Am back on the horse”, which means “Rewatching BoJack Horseman”, which means “Having a mental health crisis”. The recipient knows to go to the other’s house with Danish pastries and some grass to touch. That show changed my life. The Simpsons had redefined what a cartoon could be, Ren & Stimpy and South Park were transgressive thrill-rides. But Raphael Bob-Waksberg’s tale of a washed-up actor chasing redemption wasn’t just adult; it was profound.
So I was worried, approaching the new animated series from that show’s creators. It’s not about celebrity. There are no talking dogs or porcupines, or underwater worlds. No Will Arnett. How could I watch without expectation? It feels unfair yet unavoidable to keep an artist’s previous work in mind. Isn’t that like comparing a current partner with an ex?
While it lacks a famous horse, Long Story Short (Netflix, from Friday 22 August) is its own beast, and no less ambitious. It’s a family saga told in multiple timelines. The Schwoopers are an argumentative, chaotic Jewish household. Each episode focuses on a character or relationship, swooshing back and forward in time, from the 1950s to the 2020s, as they navigate romance, coming of age, marital breakdown, parenting, old wounds, joy, death and purpose. Basically, it’s Bluey meets Tolstoy.
The Jewishness is not incidental. The show is Jewish inside and out, defiantly, delightedly so. Naomi Schwartz is presented as a classic Jewish matriarch, impossibly critical yet overbearingly proud of her children. Daughter Shira is more modern. (“We’re a lesbian couple with biracial, Jewish sons. We’re impressive,” as her partner Kendra puts it.) In the episode Yoshi’s Bar Mitzvah, teenager Danny (voiced by Dave Franco) celebrates his friend’s public speaking. “Dude, your davening was on point!” he hypes. “Mr Leibowitz was kvellin’ like a felon!”
It almost goes without saying: melancholy. Most dramas have a primary time and place, flashing back in a limited way. Long Story Short doesn’t privilege any of its periods or people. There is only the equalising process of decades passing or rolling back. The time-hopping is extraordinarily effective, bringing characters back from the dead, fleshing out relationships, grounding us in moral complexity. We feel the painful beauty of our bounded lives.
It almost even more goes without saying: funny. Long Story Short delights in language games, subversion, absurdity and surprise. Hapless Yoshi gets conned into becoming a salesman for explosive mattresses in a tube. (Yes, there’s a soft launch.) Avi’s daughter Hannah’s school has been invaded by wolves, but no one seems concerned. Kendra and Shira have a dog, named the Undeniable Isadora Duncan. I guess there are animals in this one.
Characters talk a mile a minute, particularly at the Schwoopers’ dinner table, and it takes a while to key into the frenetic pace. But BoJack Horseman also took a minute to find its hooves. (In fact, the first season improved so drastically in its second half, website IndieWire changed its reviewing strategy to only award scores after watching entire seasons.) Here, I was locked in by the second episode. It’s rare for me to actually LOL, watching comedies. But I did, repeatedly – such as when Shira is flummoxed by a reCAPTCHA asking her to pick out squares containing bisexuals. (“How am I supposed to …?”) Kendra is unimpressed. “Where are your glasses? It says bicycles.” But above all, it’s beautiful. The show is interested in the moments when one’s heart splits open. The final scene of an episode in which Kendra attends shul for mercenary reasons pierced me with its humanity.
The poignancy is baked into its innovative structure, reminding me of the Sondheim musical Merrily We Roll Along, perhaps a little of Pachinko and the film Boyhood. It wears its formal brilliance lightly, and at 10 episodes of 30 minutes, Long Story Short doesn’t outstay its welcome. It’s rewarding company, even if you don’t catch every Fiddler on the Roof reference. I’m glad it’s already been renewed. As with loved ones I have lost, I want more time.
