Animation is a medium, not a genre, and has the potential to tell emotionally complex stories that could never be replicated within live-action. The phrase “adult animation” emerged to describe sitcoms like Family Guy, South Park, King of the Hill, or Bob’s Burgers, but the field has diversified, to the point that a more mature animated project isn’t considered radical. Initially, the streaming era saw a rise in elevated animated sitcoms; a show like Rick and Morty may be more narratively dense and technically immersive than a Seth MacFarlane production, but its sophomoric sense of humor was fairly similar. BoJack Horseman may have started with those familiar trappings, but it became one of the best and most thought-provoking shows on television.
Raphael Bob-Waksberg changed the medium’s reputation with the six seasons of BoJack Horseman, which began airing when Netflix’s reputation was less established. BoJack Horseman begun as a satire of celebrity culture and Hollywood productions, but it evolved into an exploration of grief, addiction, narcissism and redemption. BoJack Horseman was a minor miracle in that the actor cameos, animal-related puns, and running gags didn’t detract from the upsetting fall-from-grace suffered by its titular character, a former sitcom star determined to stage a comeback. Given how frequently Netflix has cut off promising shows, the fact that BoJack Horseman reached an ambiguous, yet emotionally satisfying ending felt unprecedented.
The state of animation has grown more strenuous since BoJack Horseman’s series finale aired; animators are underpaid, and austere projects have struggled for funding. It was perhaps Bob-Waksberg’s existing relationship with Netflix that gave him the opportunity to make Long Story Short, a new animated dramedy loosely inspired by his own childhood. A more strategic career move would’ve turned Long Story Short into a BoJack Horseman clone, but Bob-Waksberg had the integrity to take a bold swing in a different direction.
BoJack Horseman didn’t rely on the type of “shock humor” like Robot Chicken, but the series did get crass with its sexual themes, drug content, and a cynical worldview. Alternatively, Long Story Short could be mistaken for a family-friendly series if audiences kept the show on mute; while there’s nothing content-wise that would offend a more sensitive viewer, the show’s emphasis on wounded relationships would inspire despondent reactions for those willing to engage with it. Bob-Waksberg took advantage of the half-hour format to provide a series of faded memories in the life of a dysfunctional family; what he chose to depict is just as powerful as the joyful instances that are absent entirely.
Long Story Short doesn’t adhere to a conventional narrative structure, but its 10 episodes are focused on the adult siblings Avi (Ben Feldman), Shira (Abbi Jacobson), and Yoshi (Max Greenfield), who grew up with their domineering mother Naomi Schwartz (Lisa Edelstein). Although the children maintained a healthy relationship with their father, Elliot (Paul Reiser), their mother’s sky-high expectations and frugal compliments put them at a distance. Long Story Short is told in a non-linear way, and has benefitted from the power of implication; instead of an entire episode in which Yoshi’s divorce or Naomi’s death are depicted, the characters’ lives move on as they adapt to their new realities.
On its surface, Long Story Short doesn’t have the idiosyncratic world-building and surrealist escapades that made the notion of a live-action BoJack Horseman completely implausible. However, the clip with which Bob-Waksberg is able to weave in and out of 30 years of family history would’ve been cumbersome had actors of different ages been required to appear on set. Long Story Short is also framed as a series of memories; at any given point, the viewer may consider how the narrator’s framing has impacted the procession of events.
The details about frictional sibling dynamics may be too specific for Bob-Waksberg to claim that Long Story Short wasn’t at least partially semi-autobiographical, but the series isn’t so therapeutic that it isn’t entertaining. Individual episodes are centered on the seemingly insignificant conflicts that become easily accepted as part of modern life; from a debate about the safety of children’s classrooms, a doomed effort to replicate a family recipe, a disastrous attempt at artificial insemination, and a particularly awkward family reunion, Long Story Short has ample time to let its characters simply exist in-between the seismic moments in their lives.
The animation style of Long Story Short may pale in comparison to the more expensive projects Netflix has funded, but Bob-Waksberg does use the painterly quality to his advantage. Certain segments are fleshed out with more background detail to reflect the haziness of the memory, and some flashbacks have the visual fuzziness to imply a suppressed moment.
There are moments in Long Story Short that may target those who’ve lost a parent, feuded with their religious upbringing, or struggled to maintain adult friendships, but the series isn’t about emotional gut punches. Even if Long Story Short is best experienced in a single, five-hour viewing window, it's still successful as a series of half-hour anecdotes.