Structure Science: Bojack Horseman vs. Grey’s Anatomy
Have you ever considered the structural similarities between Grey’s Anatomy and Bojack Horseman? No? Well, I unfortunately have, and now have to share this strange but similarly helpful discovery with you.
Both shows are wildly different in tone. One is a drama about surgeons stressing over life or death decisions while juggling increasingly chaotic personal lives, while the other is a dark comedy following an alcoholic horse living in an exaggerated version of Los Angeles. And though the shows have no real common narrative ground, they appear to have striking similarities in terms of structure.
To examine this, I will break down the events from Bojack Horseman’s Love And/Or Marriage episode, and juxtapose them with the events from the Grey’s Anatomy’s Into You Like A Train episode.
Act One: The Answer
Bojack Horseman: Bojack discovers he’s a movie star due to the success of his latest film, Secretariat.
Grey’s Anatomy: Meredith decides to stop waiting for Derek and help victims of a train crash.
How These Are Similar: This first act answers a question established in the prior episode.
Act 2: The Problem
Bojack Horseman: Bojack arrives to a bar and decides to use his newfound celebrity to crash a wedding.
Grey’s Anatomy: We are introduced to each of the patients of the train crash. We find out one of the victims will need to be sacrificed in order for the other to live.
How These Are Similar: A problem is revealed that will dealt with for the remainder of the story.
Act 3: The Mistake
Bojack Horseman: Bojack revels in the wedding stage, but ends up causing one of the brides to call off the engagement.
Grey’s Anatomy: One of the victims of the train crash dies after a doctor fails to give her a proper assessment.
How These Are Similar: Characters make a mistake with dire consequences which must be solved or reckoned with in the next act.
Act 4: The Bittersweet Solution
Bojack Horseman: Bojack saves the wedding by revealing how lonely he really is.
Grey’s Anatomy: One of the train crash victims is sacrificed to save the other. Meredith tries in vain to keep them alive.
How These Are Similar: The protagonists come to a solution, but must make a sacrifice in order to do so.
Act 5: The Second Question
Bojack Horseman: A distraught Bojack finds a similarly distraught Emily in the bar.
Grey’s Anatomy: Derek leaves with Addison.
How These Are Similar: We find our characters in drastically different positions than they were at the beginning of the episode. The final moments hint at something to come in the next episodes.
In Summary…
Both stories follow a five act structure that, in order to retain viewership, starts with an answer and ends with a question. This is where the heavier serial elements exist, which allow the story to grow beyond the arc of the single episode. But the middle section (acts 2–4) are procedural, dealing with a “problem of the week” that will, one way or another, be resolved by episode’s end.
So… why is this relevant?
Part of me knows this is hugely trivial information that would only interest fans of both shows which, predictably, have little overlap. But on a screenwriting level, I find this fascinating.
Again, these shows are wildly different in tone, and yet here they have this apparent commonality. What does this say about structure, and, on a larger scale, writing in general?
To me, it seems to reveal one of the great secrets of Bojack Horseman’s mastery of tone. If you’ve seen the show, you know most episodes have a deceptive way of maintaining a light, fun-filled tone right up until the final few minutes, in which tragedy seems to reveal itself in some heart-wrenching fashion. I’ve watched and re-watched the show more times than I’d care to admit, trying to figure out how they’re able to pull this massive tonal switch so effortlessly and struggled to really find an answer.
And then, I watched Grey’s Anatomy.
As shown above, Bojack Horseman adopts the structure of the semi-serialized procedural to tell it’s stories. We have the opening and closing built around what’s going on in the season, but everything in the middle is relegated to the “problem of the week”. But rather than utilize this structure from a solely narrative standpoint, Bojack Horseman adopts this structure into it’s tone.
This is how the show is able to build itself as the impressive comedy-drama hybrid that it is. It’s opening (Act One) can be funny or dark, but almost always is a direct continuation of a previous episode. The middle, however, is almost always funny. Sure, sometimes there are “real” conflicts being dealt with, but it’s handled with a general light tone. When Bojack ruins the wedding in this episode, it doesn’t feel as terrible as much as it feels like an “oops” moment on Bojack’s part. Though it’s an awful mistake, it’s one that we figure has to be resolved, and similarly doesn’t carry any narrative weight in the long-term. But when we shift to the end of the episode, the show feels terrifyingly real. We get a monologue from Bojack about his constant seeking of validation and how it’s left him more alone than one could fathom. It gets sad, and the audience is brutally reminded that these are real characters, just put into a ridiculous world.
To simplify…
Act 1: A funny/sad opening
Acts 2–4: Dealing with the problem, but in a way that’s funny
Climax: Pivot to “reality”. Everything is dramatic and has consequences
Act 5: Hint at what’s to come
Effectively, this is one of the ways the show manages to keep it’s balance of tone. It goes from drama to comedy to drama. Granted, both comedic and dramatic elements are present in every scene, but there’s always one which is acting in service of the other. While the characters attempt to solve the “problem of the week”, the narrative is working in service of the show’s comedy. But once that problem is solved, the comedy suddenly takes a backseat, and we are forced to confront the increasingly dark narrative of the show.
So again… what does this have to do with writing?
One of the most jarring things I find in stories is when the tone shifts dramatically with seemingly no warning. It’s a mistake that takes me out of the story and makes me lose faith in the writer and the reality of their world. What Bojack Horseman proved to me was how seemingly contrasting tones can co-exist, rather than remain wholly separate. Scenes in Bojack are rarely entirely comedic or dramatic. Rather, they are structured in a way which allows those mostly-funny scenes a cushion of narrative safety, thus allowing the mostly-dramatic scenes to shine when they need to.
For me, this was a huge discovery. One of my biggest personal weaknesses as a writer is managing tone. I often think up stories that sound funny in the premise, but as I write it, it gets bogged down with so much drama that it suddenly feels way heavier than originally intended. Suddenly, the jokes I once included in those scripts feel disengenuine, and I ultimately have to rewrite the script into a hard drama. But recognizing Bojack Horseman’s relatively cohesive structure allowed me to figure out a way to implement humor without it serving as the backbone of my story. All it takes is finding the points of the story which should be most dramatic, and for those scenes, letting the drama exist in full. Any scenes that don’t carry such dramatic weight, however, can be lightened up with whatever humor feels natural.
In Summary… (Part Two)
There’s two summaries? Jason, this is ridiculous!
Hey man, I never said I’m good at writing essays. But regardless, I really do appreciate you reading this far. And if you learned anything from this, I hope it’s this:
Storytelling is weird. But no matter your story, there’s always going to be a way to tell it.
