Long Story Short review: a more human successor to BoJack

A big reason that BoJack Horseman worked so well was contrast. It took place in a silly world of talking animals, and used that to explore deep human drama in relatable ways. It’s part of what made its oddball jokes work so well, as they helped balance out the darker moments that explored topics like mental health and addiction. The same could be said for its spiritual offshoot Tuca & Bertie, which ramped up the wackiness — sexy plant ladies, ghost cakes — but didn’t shy away from getting real.

Now we have Long Story Short, which comes from much of the same creative team; it’s led by BoJack creator Raphael Bob-Waksberg, while Tuca showrunner (and BoJack production designer) Lisa Hanawalt is a producer. Naturally, the new show feels similar in many respects, but Long Story Short also dials back the absurdity to focus on actual humans — and it doesn’t lose its heart, humor, or bite in the process.

Long Story Short is centered on the Schwooper family as it grows and changes over the course of several decades. It’s a seemingly typical family composed of goofball father Elliot (Paul Reiser), overbearing mother Naomi (Lisa Edelstein), and their three kids: Avi (Ben Feldman), Shira (Abbi Jacobson), and Yoshi (Max Greenfield). Over the years more people get pulled into the Schwooper orbit, including Shira’s workaholic girlfriend Kendra (Nicole Byer) and Avi’s eventual wife, Jen (Angelique Cabral).

A still image from the animated series Long Story Short.

Image: Netflix

The show’s main twist is that it regularly shifts back and forth in time, zeroing in on key moments spanning from the 1950s to the present day. It uses this structure to explore things like grief — the Schwoopers lose a few family members over the years — the strains of the covid pandemic, raising kids, finding a direction in life, and the importance of a good hot tub.

Much of the story is set in the 2020s, but there are copious flashbacks and the occasional flash forward that help illuminate what’s really going on. An episode about Shira trying to learn how to cook her mother’s old knish recipe starts with the story of how her and Kendra first met — and bonded over the fact that Shira is a terrible cook. But that seemingly unrelated opening scene makes it clear why cooking the meal is so challenging, while other glimpses at Shira’s childhood, and her mother’s constant criticism, also make it clear why it’s so important to get right.

Sometimes the time skips are used to devastating effect. The first episode has Avi bringing Jen home to meet his family at just about the busiest possible time — his little brother’s bar mitzvah — and you’re able to see the young couple bond over the stress the trip creates. The episode then ends in the present, with a brief glance at Avi’s current life, which made me desperate to learn what exactly went wrong in the ensuing years. Some of these revelations only really click a few episodes later, when various pieces from various time periods finally fit together in a really emotionally satisfying way. The shifting chronology allows the show to focus on the moments that matter most, and present them in the order that feels most impactful.

A still image from the animated series Long Story Short.

Image: Netflix

Like any good sitcom, it tackles moments that are relatable and, frequently, heartbreaking, but it makes things more approachable through humor. Long Story Short may not have Mr. Peanut Butter or plotlines about bugs who like to party, but it does get pretty silly. There’s an entire episode about a business that sells mattresses that explode out of plastic tubes, and there are gags about the work-life balance of a hostage negotiator, a children’s restaurant called BJ Banana Fingers, and a school taken over by wolves during the pandemic. Like in BoJack, the payoff for many of the best jokes happens after an extended period. My favorite involves a throwaway mention of a dad obsessed with how much sunscreen his kid wears, which then becomes a laugh-out-loud moment when you finally see why he’s so paranoid.

We’re living in a pretty great time for adult animation, with series like Common Side Effects and Carol and the End of the World using the format to mix humor and real-world drama in potent ways. BoJack was a big part of this current moment, and Long Story Short is a clever continuation of many of its ideas, using them to tell a very different kind of story. Long Story Short is warmer and more familiar — it’s about a family, after all, instead of a depressed Hollywoo celebrity — but still isn’t afraid to get dark and serious. And its ambitious, shifting structure heightens each aspect, from the laughs to the tears.

Long Story Short is streaming now on Netflix.

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