马男波杰克 第五季

So I stopped at a Jack in the Box on the way here, and the girl behind the counter said, “Hiya! Are you having an awesome day?” Not, “How are you doing today?” No. “Are you having an awesome day?” Which is pretty… shitty, because it puts the onus on me to disagree with her, like if I’m not having an “awesome day,” suddenly I’m the negative one.

Usually when people ask how I’m doing, the real answer is I’m doing shitty, but I can’t say I’m doing shitty because I don’t even have a good reason to be doing shitty. So if I say, “I’m doing shitty,” then they say, “Why? What’s wrong?” And I have to be like, “I don’t know, all of it?” So instead, when people ask how I’m doing, I usually say, “I am doing so great.”

But when this girl at the Jack in the Box asked me if I was having an awesome day, I thought, “Well, today I’m actually allowed to feel shitty.” Today I have a good reason, so I said to her, “Well, my mom died,” and she immediately burst into tears. So now I have to comfort her, which is annoying, and meanwhile, there’s a line of people forming behind me who are all giving me these real judgy looks because I made the Jack in the Box girl cry. And she’s bawling, and she’s saying, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” and I’m like, “It’s fine. It’s fine.” I mean, it’s not fine but, you know, it’s… fine. And I would like to order a Double Jack Meal, and I’ve kinda got somewhere to be, so maybe less with the crying and more with the frying, huh? [inhales] And the girl apologizes again and she offers me a free churro with my meal. And as I’m leaving, I think, “I just got a free churro because my mom died.” No one ever tells you that when your mom dies, you get a free churro.

[people murmuring]

[clears throat]

Anyway, I’m sorry, that’s not part of the… [clears throat] All right. Okay, here we go. Let’s do this. Here I am, BoJack Horseman, doing a eulogy, let’s go. Hey, piano man, can I get a, like an organ flourish? [organ plays] Nicely done. You know, I was a little worried I wouldn’t have the right accompaniment today. I guess it’s a good thing my mom was an organ donor! [rimshot plays] What happened to the organ? [horn ‘oogahs’] Okay, why just leave the comedy to the professionals? Okay? This is a funeral, sir, for my mother. Can you show a little respect? [trumpet whines] I’ll take it.

Beatrice Horseman, who was she? What was her deal? Well, she was a horse. Uh, she was born in 1938. She died in 2018. One time, she went to a parade, and one time, she smoked an entire cigarette in one long inhale. I watched her do it. Truly a remarkable woman.

[rustling]

Lived a full life, that lady. Just, all the way to the end, which is, uh, now I guess. Really makes you think, though, huh? Life, right? Goes by, stuff happens. Then you die. Okay, well that’s my time, you’ve been great! Tip your waitress! No, I’m just kidding around, there’s no waitress. But seriously, that’s all I have to say about my mother. No point beating a dead horse, right? So…

[inhales] Now what? I don’t know. Mom, you got any ideas? Anything? Mom? No? Nothing to contribute? Knock once if you’re proud of me.

Can I just say how amazing it is to be in a room with my mother, and I can just talk and talk without her telling me to shut up and make her a drink? Hey, Mom, knock once if you think I should shut up. No? You sure? I mean, I don’t want to embarrass you by making this eulogy into a me-logy, so, seriously, if you wanted me to sit down and let someone else talk, just knock. I will not be offended. No? Your funeral.

Sorry about the closed casket, by the way. She wanted an open casket, but uh, you know, she’s dead now, so who cares what she wanted? No, that sounds bad. I’m sorry. I-I think that if she could’ve seen what she looked like dead, she’d agree it’s better this way. She looked like this.

[groaning]

[mourners gasping]

Kinda like a pissed-off toy dinosaur. The coroner couldn’t get her eyes closed, so now her face is forever frozen in a mask of tremendous horror and anguish. Or as my mom called it, Tuesday! Tuesday! My mom called it Tuesday.

[woman coughs]

Hey, Mom, what did you think of that joke? You like that? You never did care for my comedy.

[clears throat]

Here’s a story. When I was a teenager, I performed a comedy routine for my high school talent show. There was this, uh, cool jacket that I wanted to wear because I thought it would make me look like Albert Brooks. For months, I saved up for this jacket. But when I finally had enough, I went to the store and it was gone. They had just sold it to someone else. So, I went home and I told my mother, and she said, “Let that be a lesson. That’s the good that comes from wanting things.” She was really good at dispensing life lessons that always seemed to circle back to everything being my fault.

But then, on the day of the talent show, my mother had a surprise for me. She had bought me the jacket. Even though she didn’t know how to say it, I know this meant that she loved me.

Now that’s a good story about my mother. It’s not true, but it’s a good story, right? I stole it from an episode of Maude I saw when I was a kid, where she talks about her father. I remember when I saw it, thinking, “That’s the kind of story I want to tell about my parents when they die.” But I don’t have any stories like that. All I know about being good, I learned from TV. And in TV, flawed characters are constantly showing people they care with these surprising grand gestures. And I think that part of me still believes that’s what love is. But in real life, the big gesture isn’t enough. You need to be consistent, you need to be dependably good. You can’t just screw everything up and then take a boat out into the ocean to save your best friend, or solve a mystery, and fly to Kansas. You need to do it every day, which is so… hard.

When you’re a kid, you convince yourself that maybe the grand gesture could be enough, that even though your parents aren’t what you need them to be over and over and over again, at any moment, they might surprise you with something… wonderful. I kept waiting for that, the proof that even though my mother was a hard woman, deep down, she loved me and cared about me and wanted me to know that I made her life a little bit brighter. Even now, I find myself waiting.

Hey, Mom, knock once if you love me and care about me and want me to know I made your life a little bit brighter.

[owl chirping]

My mother did not go gentle into that good night. She went clawing and fighting and thrashing, hence the face.

[groaning]

[mourners gasping]

If you’d seen her, I swear to God the only thing you’d be thinking about right now is that I am nailing this impression.

[woman clears her throat]

[chairs squeak]

I was in the hospital with her those last moments, and they were truly horrifying, full of nonsencial screams and cries, but there was this moment, this one instant of strange calm, where she looked in my direction and said, “I see you.” That’s the last thing she said to me. “I see you.” Not a statement of judgment or disappointment, just acceptance and the simple recognition of another person in a room. “Hello there. You are a person. And I see you.”

Let me tell you, it’s a weird thing to feel at 54 years old, that for the first time in your life your mother sees you. It’s an odd realization that that’s the thing you’ve been missing, the only thing you wanted all along, to be seen. And it doesn’t feel like a relief, to finally be seen. It feels mean, like, “Oh, it turns out that you knew what I wanted, and you waited until the very last moment to give it to me.” I was prepared for more cruelty. I was sure that she would get in one final zinger about how I let her down, and about how I was fat and stupid and too tall to be an effective Lindy-hopper. How I was needy and a burden and an embarrassment—all that I was ready for. I was not ready for “I see you.” Only my mother would be lousy enough to swipe me with a moment of connection on her way out. But maybe I’m giving her too much credit. Maybe it wasn’t about connection. Maybe it was a… maybe it was an “I see you,” like, uh, “I see you.” Like, “You might have the rest of the world fooled, but I know exactly who you are.” That’s more my mom’s speed.

Or maybe she just literally meant “I see you. You are an object that has entered my field of vision.” She was pretty out of it at the end, so maybe it’s dumb to try to attribute it to anything.

[woman sighs]

Back in the 90s, I was in a very famous TV show called Horsin’ Around.

[man coughs]

Please hold your applause. And I remember one time, a fan asked me, “Hey, um, you know that episode where the horse has to give Ethan a pep talk after Ethan finds out his crush only asked him to the dance because her friends were having a dorkiest date contest? In all the shots of the horse, you can see a paper coffee cup on the kitchen counter, but in the shots of Ethan, the coffee cup’s missing. Was that because the show was making a statement about the fluctuant subjectivity of memory and how even two people can experience the same moment in entirely different ways?” And I didn’t have the heart to be, like, “No, man, some crew guy just left their coffee cup in the shot.” So instead, I was, like… “Yeah.”

And maybe this is like that coffee cup. Maybe we’re dumb to try to pin significance onto every little thing. Maybe when someone says, “I see you,” it just means, “I see you.” Then again, it’s possible she wasn’t even talking to me because, if I’m being honest, she wasn’t really looking at me. She was looking just past me. There was nobody else in the room, so I want to think she was talking to me, but, honestly, she was so far gone at that point, who knows what she was seeing? Who were you talking to, Mom? [sighs] Not saying, huh? Staying mum? No rimshot there? God, whatever I’m paying you, it’s too much.

Maybe she saw my dad. My dad died about ten years ago of injuries he sustained during a duel. When your father dies, you ask yourself a lot of questions. Questions like, “Wait, did you say he died in a duel?” and “Who dies in a duel?” The whole thing was so stupid. Dad spent his entire life writing this book, but he couldn’t get any stores to carry it or any newspapers to review it. Finally, I guess this one newspaper thought he was pretty hilarious, because they ran a review and tore him to shreds. So my father, ever the proud Mary, decided he would not stand for this besmirchment of his honor. He claimed the critic didn’t understand what it meant to be a man, so he demanded satisfaction in the form of pistols at dawn. He wrote the paper this letter, saying anyone who didn’t like his book, he would challenge to a duel, anyone in the world. He’d even pay for airfare to San Francisco and a night in a hotel. Well, eventually this found its way to some kook in Montana, who was as batshit as he was and took him up on the offer. They met at Golden Gate Park and agreed: ten paces, then shoot. But in the middle of the ten paces, Dad turned to ask the guy if he’d actually read the book and what he thought, but, not looking where he was going, tripped over an exposed root and bashed his head on a rock.

[murmur]

I wish I’d known to go to Jack in the Box then. Maybe I could have gotten a free churro. It would’ve been nice to have something to show for being the son of Butterscotch Horseman. My darling mother gave the eulogy. My entire life I never heard her say a kind word to or about my father, but at his funeral she said, “My husband is dead, and everything is worse now.”

“My husband is dead, and everything is worse now.” I don’t know why she said that. Maybe she felt like that’s the kind of thing you’re supposed to say at a funeral. Maybe she hoped one day someone would say that about her. “My mother is dead, and everything is worse now.” Or maybe she knew that he had frittered away all her inheritance, and replaced it with crippling debt, which is a pretty shitty thing to leave your widow with. “Bad news, you lost a husband, but don’t worry, you also lost the house!” Maybe Mom knew she’d have to sell all her fancy jewelry and move into a home. Maybe that’s what she meant by “everything is worse now.” Is that what you meant, Mom?

I gotta say, I’m really carrying this double act. At least with Penn and Teller, the quiet one does card tricks. Hey, piano man, when I say something funny to my mom, how about you give me one of those rimshots?

[rimshot plays]

Yeah, but not now. When I say something funny. Like, okay. What’s the difference between my mother and a disruptive expulsion of germs? One’s a coughin’ fit and the other fits a coffin! That’s an example of a funny thing.

[rimshot plays]

Thank you. Let’s try again. Hey, Mom. What’s the difference between my mother and a bunch of Easter eggs? One gets carried in a basket, the other gets buried in a casket!

[rimshot plays]

Ready for one more? Last one. What’s the difference between a first-year lit major and my mother, Beatrice Horseman? One is decently read, and the other’s a huge bitch!

[woman gasps]

[murmurs]

Yeah, might have gone a little too far with that one. That one might’ve been a little too “my mom’s a huge bitch” for the room. I’m sorry, Mother. You’re not a huge bitch. You were a huge bitch… and now you’re dead.

[woman sighs]

You know, the first time I ever performed in front of an audience, it actually was, uh, with my mom. She used to put on these shows with her supper club in the living room and she used to make… [inhales] She used to make me sing “The Lollipop Song.”

[organ playing tune]

Those parties, they were really something. There were skits and magic acts, and ethnically insensitive vaudeville routines, and the big finale was always a dance my mother did. She had this beautiful dress that she only brought out for these parties, and she did this incredible number. It was so beautiful and sad. Dad hated the parties. He’d lock himself in the study, and bang on the walls for us to keep it down, but he always came out to see Mom dance. He’d linger in the doorway, scotch in hand, and watch in awe, as this cynical, despicable woman he married… took flight. And as a child who was completely terrified of both my parents, I was always aware that this moment of grace, it meant something. We understood each other in a way. Me and my mom and my dad, as screwed up as we all were, we did understand each other. My mother, she knew what it’s like to feel your entire life like you’re drowning, with the exception of these moments, these very rare, brief instances, in which you suddenly remember… you can swim.

[flashback]

[partygoers laughing]

[classical music playing]

But then again, mostly not. Mostly you’re drowning. She understood that, too. And she recognized that I understood it. And Dad. All three of us were drowning, and we didn’t know how to save each other, but there was an understanding that we were all drowning together. And I would like to think that that’s what she meant when we were in the hospital and she said, “I see you.”

You know, the weird thing about both your parents being dead is it means that you’re next. I mean, you know, obviously it’s not like there’s a waitlist for dying. Any one of us could get run over by a Snapchatting teen at any moment. And you would think that knowing that would make us more adventurous, and kind, and forgiving. But it makes us small, and stupid, and petty.

I actually had a near-death experience recently. A stunt went bad and I fell off a building. I’m an actor, I do my own stunts. I’m on this new show Philbert. I’m Philbert. Star of the show. It hasn’t come out yet, but it’s already getting Emmy buzz. Oh, speaking of buzz… [inhales] I’m supposed to take two of these every morning, but my days are so screwed up ‘cause of the shooting schedule, I don’t even know what morning means anymore. There’s a joke in there somewhere, about a guy who’s been to so many funerals, he doesn’t even know what mourning means anymore. Let you guys figure that one out for yourselves. [gulps]

Anyway, you know what I thought, when I was falling off the building and I went into panic mode? The last thing that my stupid brain could come up with before I died? “Won’t they be sorry.” Cool thought, brain.

[rimshot plays]

No, that wasn’t… would you just… dial it back, all right?

I don’t even know what “they” I wanted to be sorry. My mom, even before she died, could barely remember who I was. And of course, my dad’s dead. The last conversation I ever had with him was about his novel. He was so certain this book was his legacy. Maybe he thought it would vindicate him for all the shitty things he ever did in his stupid worthless life. Maybe it did, I don’t know. I never read it, because why would I give him that?

I used to be on this TV show called Horsin’ Around. Seriously, though, hold your applause.

[man coughs]

Well held. It was written by my friend Herb Kazzaz, who’s also dead now, and it starred this little girl named Sarah Lynn. And it was about these orphans. And early on, the network had a note, “Maybe don’t mention they’re orphans so much, because audiences tend to find orphans sad and not relatable.” But I never thought that the orphans were sad. I-I always thought they were lucky, because they could imagine their parents to be anything they wanted. They had something to long for.

Anyway, we did this one season finale, where Olivia’s birth mother comes to town. And she was a junkie, but she’s gotten herself cleaned up, and she wants to be in Olivia’s life again. And of course, she’s like a perfect grown-up version of Olivia, and they go to the mall together and get her ears pierced like she’s always wanted and—sorry, spoiler alert for the season six finale of Horsin’ Around, if you’re still working your way through it. Anyway, the horse tries to warn her, “Be careful, moms have a way of letting you down.” But Olivia just thinks the horse is jealous, and when the mom says she’s moving to California, Olivia decides to go with her. And the network really juiced the cliffhanger: “Is Olivia gone for good?” But of course, because it’s a TV show, she was not gone for good. Of course, because it’s a TV show, Olivia’s mother had a relapse and had to go back to rehab, so Olivia had to hitchhike all the way home, getting rides from Mr. T, Alf, and the cast of Stomp. Of course, that’s what happened. Because, what are you gonna do, just not have Olivia on the show? You can’t have happy endings in sitcoms, not really, because, if everyone’s happy, the show would be over, and above all else, the show… has to keep going. There’s always more show. And you can call Horsin’ Around dumb, or bad, or unrealistic, but there is nothing more realistic than that. You never get a happy ending, ‘cause there’s always more show.

I guess until there isn’t.

[chuckles]

My mom would hate it if she knew that I spent so much time at her funeral talking about my old TV show. Or maybe she’d think it was funny that her idiot son couldn’t even do this right. Who knows? She left no instructions for what she wanted me to say. All I know is she wanted an open casket, and her idiot son couldn’t even do that right. I’m not gonna stand up here and pretend I ever understood how to please that woman, even though so much of my life has been wasted in vain attempts to figure it out. But I keep going back to that moment in the ICU when she looked at me, and… “I-C-U.”

“I… see… you.” Jesus Christ, we were in the intensive care unit. She was just reading a sign. My mom died and all I got was this free churro.

You know the shittiest thing about all of this? Is when that stranger behind the counter gave me that free churro, that small act of kindness showed more compassion than my mother gave me her entire goddamn life. Like, how hard is it to do something nice for a person? This woman at the Jack in the Box didn’t even know me. I’m your son! All I had was you! [inhales]

I have this friend. And right around when I first met her, her dad died, and I actually went with her to the funeral. And months later, she told me that she didn’t understand why she was still upset, because she never even liked her father. It made sense to me, because I went through the same thing when my dad died. And I’m going through the same thing now. You know what it’s like? It’s like that show Becker, you know, with Ted Danson? I watched the entire run of that show, hoping that it would get better, and it never did. It had all the right pieces, but it just—it couldn’t put them together. And when it got canceled, I was really bummed out, not because I liked the show, but because I knew it could be so much better, and now it never would be. And that’s what losing a parent is like. It’s like Becker.

Suddenly, you realize you’ll never have the good relationship you wanted, and as long as they were alive, even though you’d never admit it, part of you, the stupidest goddamn part of you, was still holding on to that chance. And you didn’t even realize it until that chance went away.

My mother is dead, and everything is worse now, because now I know I will never have a mother who looks at me from across a room and says, “BoJack Horseman, I see you.” But I guess it’s good to know. It’s good to know that there is nobody looking out for me, that there never was, and there never will be. No, it’s good to know that I am the only one that I can depend on. And I know that now and it’s good. It’s good that I know that. So… it’s good my mother is dead.

[gulps, sighs]

Well. No point beating a dead horse. Beatrice Horseman was born in 1938, and she died in 2018, and I have no idea… what she wanted. Unless she just wanted what we all want… to be seen.

Is this Funeral Parlor B?

—— from Reddit

首发于公众号“影探”

ID：ttyingtan

作者：大表姐

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从第一季开始，马男系列的评分就没掉下来9分过。

第五季更是以9.3分强势回归。

有人或许奇怪了。

就这么一匹马，丑啦吧唧，低眉搭眼的，凭什么这么招人喜欢？

别人我不知道，反正对表姐来说，马男就像一剂精神鸦片。

贼！上！瘾！

你看看它的基调。播到第五季了还是那一个字：

丧

作为一个中年过气明星，马男对抗焦虑的方式竟然是——

逃避。

找工作？why? 是酒不好喝，还是烟不好抽？

还是勾搭来的妹子不够靓呢？

40来岁，依然没有相爱的人。

So? 随便跟谁约一炮就好了。

哦，这个“随便”，是真的很随便。

前女友兼经纪人？可以。

片场合作的女主角？可以。

甚至当年电视剧里扮演自己女儿的童星？可以啊没问题。

交心的朋友？

在他家沙发上赖了6年的Todd算一个。

可马男那个态度...日常不耐烦，经常性打击，永远毒舌。

最后天使如Todd，也因为伤害彻底离开。

还有永远给他擦屁股，偶尔也上床的前女友兼经纪人Princess Caroline.

根本不爱他。

在一起，也只是因为惧怕孤独，互相取暖。

就连唯一懂他的女人Diane，

也选择嫁给了更阳光的Mr. PeanutButter。

说实话，每次表姐看着马男的生活，就像看着一个巨大的黑洞。

他唯一擅长的事，就是伤害对他好的人，就是把一切都搞砸。

这样的人，不是人渣又是什么？

可我们偏偏又那么爱这个贱人。

甚至有点...心疼他。

因为丧，并不是他的锅。

作为一次意外怀孕的结果，身为中产阶级的妈妈，不得不因为他，下嫁给了穷困的老爸。

从小，他就被当成是个累赘。

听到最多的话，不是“我爱你”，而是“都是你，毁了我的生活。”

每天看着爸妈争吵，互相指责，没有人在意他的感受。

老妈更是坦言，“你不会幸福的”。

因为你天生破碎。

试问这样一个从未被爱过的人，又该如何去爱别人？

所以除了丧，他还“毒”。

“毒”，是因为被伤到之后，就能一眼看清，哪些是真相，哪些才是谎言。

他换无数女友，孑然一人，不过是看透了恋爱的本质，无非是互相伤害。

也知道人间不值得，假装开心，自欺欺人。

虽然嘴巴一直在得罪人，但心里其实知道大家最想听的是什么。

也早就比其他人参破了人生的意义。

其实从头到尾，马男都是个底色悲凉的、孤独的清醒者。

就像《闻香识女人》中，阿尔帕西诺那番话：

I always knew what the right path was.

Without exception, I know, but I never took it, you know why?

It was too damn hard.

一直以来，马男都知道哪条是对的路。

可他也从来不走，因为太他妈的难了。

所以他一边胡作，一边愧疚，直到第三季结束，

所有人都离开了他。大厦崩塌。

第四季的开头，马男消失了一年。

他远离LA，来到母亲小时候的家里。

在那里，他了解到，原来妈妈也有一个不幸的童年——

当年她的哥哥战死，母亲患了抑郁症，父亲态度冷淡...

她也没有学会怎么去爱人。

之后回到LA的家里，有一个姑娘来找他认亲。

DNA测试后，发现是自己的“女儿”。

“女儿”要马男一起，帮她寻找生母。

就在这个过程中，他无意间发现这是一个大乌龙：

自己其实是姑娘的哥哥。

而当年，正是自己的母亲，帮着姑娘的母亲，也就是插足者，生下了孩子。

“她或许，也没有自己认为的那么刻薄吧...”

故事进行到这里，所有人都以为马男会有一个happy ending。

跟母亲和解，做个有爱的哥哥，和家人团聚。

然而第五季一开头，马男的母亲就去世了。

葬礼上，马男一如既往地开着那些刻薄的玩笑。

可这一幕，却让表姐真实地掉泪了。

致辞时，他提到母亲弥留之际，曾经对他说过最后一句话：

I SEE YOU

我看见你了

尽管装出满不在乎的样子，马男还是忍不住猜测这背后的意味：

她的意思是终于看到我了吗？

54年，妈妈我终于被你看到了。

原来你知道我要什么？我要的就是你的关注啊。

可你却在最后一刻才满足我吗？

那一刻，这个浪荡丧气的中年大叔，委屈地像个孩子。

爱就算迟到，可终究也是爱啊。

所以，马男终于被治愈了？

没有，这部剧没这么善良。

下一秒，马男说到母亲住在ICU病房时，才突然醒悟：

什么I SEE YOU，母亲只是读出了病房牌子上的ICU（同音）。

一切，都只是他的自作多情。

原来母亲直到最后一刻，都没有看过他一眼。

这才是人生啊。人生没这么善良。

只是这一刻，马男脸上的苦涩，让人不忍心再看一眼。

那是他唯一一次在人前表达在乎，那是他唯一一次流露出脆弱。

我们总是期待着有大团圆。

可生活从来不是电视剧，不会在某个幸福的高潮点戛然而止。

我们能做的，或许就像马男一样，假装微笑并信以为真，放浪形骸来掩饰孤独。

并且死不承认脆弱。

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焦虑的斑马波波是第七集戴安的心理医生英迪拉为了和她老婆讨论患者八卦时波杰克的化名。

马男波杰克——如果你已经看完了整部剧集——在这一部剧中不再像以前那么浑浑噩噩了，但在结局依然搞砸了一切。简单地总结起来就是：波杰克以主角出演了一部后来大热的侦探剧，这部剧的剧情就如马男前几季的剧情，吉娜（戴安）试图接近警探菲尔伯特（波杰克）并找出有关他老婆死因的真相（波杰克生活的真相）接着到了第二季，吉娜发现菲尔伯特原来是人格分裂症患者，他才是杀死他妻子以及许多朋友的凶手（戴安包括剧里的其他角色知道了马男所做的所有坏事）。而这一剧情反转对于菲尔伯特的效果就像陶德在第三季第十集结尾对马男说出的那一段爆炸性台词：

没错，在第五季重新做人的马男，又开始被他以前做的那些shitty things困扰了。本季第六集母亲的葬礼stand-up comedy和第十集戴安和马男的争吵甚至在剧本里给马男下套这些剧情加剧了马男的自责，再加上马男天生不善于把自己的痛苦展露给别人，不愿意和朋友谈论这些事情，于是他又开始投向毒品的怀抱。

就像在酒桌上喝酒如饮水吨吨吨的中年男人一样，马男寄希望于毒品和酒精之类的快感以冲淡中年危机带给他源源不断的痛苦。美国的一部纪录片《面具之下》提出由于典型的masculine概念深入人心，很多男性没有方法去表达自己内心的苦闷，于是他们偏执地独自忍耐下去，就如波杰克的父亲在第6集开头告诉他的道理：“你不能依赖任何人”，很多男性观众会觉得这种说法无比熟悉吧，就像小时候我们会被教导的：“像个男人”、“不要像女孩一样哭鼻子”，在这样教导下成长的男性，如果生活遇到了困难，他们通常拥有两种选择：

1. 对身边人发泄（通常是自己的妻子和孩子）

2. 对自己发泄（导致严重的心理问题）

因为在男性的世界里是很少有像“去找心理咨询师治疗”、“和朋友倾诉自己生活中的伤痛”这样一般女性会选择的选项。“男人”一开始就是“顶天立地”的形象，不论流多少血都能和生活逆境战斗到最后一刻的生物。在父权社会里，他们是把整个社会撑起来的人，也同时是家庭的顶梁柱。但是这样的“男权”给男性带来的真的是好处吗？

那些在酒场豪饮的中年男人、那些在商业会所陪客户唱着卡拉OK的中年男人、那些在厕所里呕吐甚至是在医院里住院的中年男人又是多少人的父亲呢？他们经常出门躲避的是什么？是你。或者可以说，他躲的是一段健康的、正常沟通的情感。因为这不符合社会给他们定下的形象，他们从没被教导过如何成为一个能够正常表达负面情绪的人类。

回到bojack，他在第五季从来没有和吉娜谈过任何心里的不安，而PC由于领养孩子太忙了所以无暇照顾马男，那么bojack这个巨婴就留给了戴安（同时也是戴安得知马男在新墨西哥和17岁少女可能有染的时候）但由于戴安不愿意照顾他，甚至在剧本里混入了马男曾经真实说过的台词，使他再次被懊恼和痛苦包围。如此一来，第五季的最后，波杰克首先选择了第一个选项：把自己内心的痛苦推向其他人，觉得是有人要破坏“吉娜的幸福”（其实就是他当时得到的简单又复杂的幸福）最终在演戏的时候差点掐死吉娜。第二季被砍之后又转身向戴安要求执行第二个选项：让戴安写文章披露自己，也就是伤害他自己。

于是在本剧的最后一小段，戴安（出于愧疚？）试图帮助波杰克走出这种“定式思维”并给出了一个新的选项：“戒毒所”，有点像是心理咨询的存在。

马男又质疑：“如果我戒毒之后，我还是像以前一样那么糟糕怎么办？那我还不如回家”

戴安说：“听着，你有两个选项，你可以回家，试图以你的方式去做你一生以来一直在做的那些事情，或者你可以看看这些人能做什么。”

这也给男性观众提供了一条新的思路：为何要执着于封闭自己，把所有的伤痛都用酒精或者毒品掩盖？你本可以试试看其他人能为你做什么。而不是成为父权社会的一个消耗品，一个抑郁的电池。这也是全剧最女权的一部分了。

第五季第二集

突然就想到Diane &Bojack的关系。

两个人是很好的朋友，但两个人是哪种朋友呢？

是那种我懂你，你也懂我的朋友。

是那种我在你面前全然表达真实感受不用伪装的朋友。

是可以展现脆弱的朋友。

因为真实就是破碎。

而这种懂得，是对生活无奈的懂得，是对丧的懂得。

是知道人间不值得，但还在挣扎的时候，相视一笑的“IGetIt”。

是外在体面，但一起喝酒就酩酊大醉，但醒来后还是尴尬的离场。

不然怎么办呢。

人间真实吗？

两个很丧的人，两个都很明白的人，但却活不明白，只能在各自的生活中奋力挣扎，期待出现一颗救命稻草，但终了或无所得。

他们好像是愿意“众人皆醉我独醒”的人，因为清醒，所以反而又用喝醉来伪装。

经常看到弹幕有人在刷，希望两个人在一起。

我说，两个人不能在一起，那么像的两个人，如果在一起，岂不是都要落到黑洞里，那里有深渊，并且即使低到尘埃也无法开出花来。

加缪在《局外人》中如此写道:

“今天，妈妈死了。也许是昨天。我不知道。 我收到养老院的一封电报，说‘母死。明日葬。专此通知。’ 这说明不了什么。可能是昨天死的。”冷漠的语气就是葬礼上波杰克的演讲一般。

又颓又丧的Bojack也迎来了这一天，他的妈妈碧翠丝死了，但是似乎没有什么改变，唯一感觉有变化的，可能就是波杰克得到了一份免费油条

Free churoo

在原生家庭饱受折磨的波杰克也恨透了他的父母，同时原生家庭对波杰克的性格造成了严重的心理创伤。也因此，当波杰克的妈妈过世了，波杰克并没有太大的感触，但是正如他自己所说“My mother is dead, everything become worse.”波杰克失去了最后一个逃避的借口，他又要面对他的酗酒、药物成瘾等等自己的糟糕事，而他，已经找不到逃避的借口了。波杰克的做法像现实生活中部分人，为自己的不作为找借口，自己定下的flag，总是完不成，总有一堆理由来说服自己，但是你知道，那些都是借口，你只是不想做，问题不是那些事，问题还是在自己身上。

人总是不能随心所欲的做自己

Diane在与Mr.Peanutbutter先生离婚之后状态也是如此，为此特意去了一趟越南，列出了十个去越南的理由，然而一个个的理由都经不起推敲，这些理由全都是借口，真正的原因，只是她不经意间看到花生酱先生用曾经揽着她的姿势去揽着新欢，这时的旅游只是逃避，当自己所有的借口被打破，剖去一切浮于表面之事，你的内心，其实一片荒凉。“你以为你的心不会再破碎，但依然会再次被碾碎，于是你知道你可以忍受孤独”。

在波杰克的新剧《Philbert》中，波杰克的生活与他饰演的主角费尔伯特高度相似，加之波杰克药物依赖越来越严重，分不清角色与现实，精神恍惚，在片场差点错手掐死伙伴Gina。最终，波杰克在戴安的帮助下决定面对自己的糟糕状况，去了戒毒所，而戴安也在经历低潮之后重回生活。

看完这部剧之后，其实有很多感想，但是很多你都说不出来，也不知道怎么去说。在某种程度上，我们都是Philbert,面对着自己糟糕的人生，一面是人前天真烂漫人畜无害的正面形象，另一面则是心里住着一只“小恶魔”的自己；但又不可以把不好的一面展现在公众面前，只好费尽心力地去维护自己的正面人设。就行Bojack一样，电视上是一个明星，但自己知道自己很糟糕

罗曼罗兰说过：“世界上只有一种英雄主义，那就是认清生活的真相之后仍然热爱生活。”话虽如此，私以为不尽正确，我们都知道自己的状况，生活的真相很多时候都是像波杰克一样的颓、丧、无可奈何，这样还可以“热爱生活”吗？或许有另一种如《海边的曼彻斯特》中主角李一样的生活方式，不与过去的自己和解，活在自己的过去中，也并没有什么不好，又颓又美丽。我们总是被教导要坚强，要勇于面对生活，不惧困难诸如此类正面观念，却没人教我们，如何和那个颓废的自己、做了错事的自己和解，如何与那个丧失信念、丧气满满的自己一同生活。我们看到太多的正能量，却不懂得如何宣泄自己的负能量 ，将负能量视为负面，看不到即便是负能量也是一种“能量”。

我们的人生就像溺水一般，我们不懂得如何去拯救对方，但是我们都明白对方的感受，并且一同被水淹没。

生活，就是如此。

老婆和她的玩伴总在看剧，我也耳濡目染了一些。经过我的询问和她的解答，我发现特别丧的剧都是美国人的。我很奇怪美国人的品味，难道真的是过得太好了吗？也许是爱看这些丧剧的美国人过得太好了，而过得不好的人并不喜欢看？也许是过得的确不好的人才喜欢，而过得好的人并不热捧吧。我觉得事情的真相很可能是这样：过得不错，但总要给自己找点麻烦的人，更可能觉得这个剧好。

其实这个剧给我最突出的感受，是它很像卡佛的小说风格。它介于两个卡佛之间。最初出版并走红的卡佛，是那个被编辑改过的卡佛，可以称作“编辑卡佛”，后来又出版了未编辑的卡佛，我们称它为“真卡佛”。这个动画剧的风格和品味，恰好处在编辑卡佛和真卡佛之间。灰色得没有编辑卡佛彻底，诙谐多过真卡佛，但比真卡佛沉重。它们的核心气质是一样的，就是美国人陷于生计的内容贫乏的生活泥潭，还有没人帮助的糟糕的两性关系和亲子关系。

先说两性关系和情感方面。在所有的美剧和卡佛的小说里，美国人的家庭关系的确和我们很不一样。一个人从他父母身边长大，一般就会脱离出来，所有的伤害都没有解决，只是掐断，然后他就组建他自己的两性关系，而且往往没能比他的父母高明。简直毫无提高，就是按照烂摊子的样子制造新的烂摊子。这种剧也是一样。

还有就是美国人的物质生活。之前读了一本考试用书，工程经济，里面讲了一些公司运作、财务管理方面的原理。我不得不注意到，公司管理的所有原则最终都会产生同一个后果，就是争分夺秒，把人的精力榨干、逼死。想到这些知识经验都该源自伟大富强的美利坚，美国人民的生活状况可见一斑。这个剧里表现得毫无差异。

但是我很不喜欢这个剧。角色在剧里根本没有尝试解决问题。有些人说角色在成长，在逐渐地改善自己的处境。在我看来，那些改进之处都是不痛不痒的。说他们有改善的人，好像忘了一个事实：如果角色的内涵和定位变了，就没法继续往下编了，就没法连载了，之前爱看的人就不会爱看，这可是商业规律啊。而且我要说，肯定他们的进步的人，同样也不能改进自己的生活。可能他们就搞不清楚什么才叫改进。

翻开两个卡佛的小说，我们读到的都是烂摊子，主人公收拾不了的烂摊子。那是一种沉溺，彻底的失败。这个马人也毫无指望。爱看马人的，觉得感同身受的，可能也毫无指望。何以爱看？自己的苦恼被搬上了银幕，想象着它能被很多人看到甚至理解，就获得了一种安慰。我不否定这种安慰的积极，但是，然后呢？无所谓了，继续上班赚钱、然后游荡、喝酒、聊天、回家在床上翻来覆去睡不着呗。