From ‘South Park’ to ‘BoJack Horseman,’ Tracking the Rise of Continuity in Adult Animation

Love ’em or hate ’em, adult animated sitcoms have been dominating the televised comedy scene for years. Whether they’re disgustingly groundbreaking (South Park), refreshingly innovative (BoJack Horseman), or a seemingly never-ending staple of FOX’s lineup (The Simpsons), these shows have influenced and redefined the comedy sphere. However, in recent years, I’ve noticed that these shows have also been redefining their own, niche sphere.

For the longest time, season-to-season and even scene-to-scene plot continuity was largely missing from adult animated programming. If Family Guy‘s Peter Griffin was beat up and presumably hospitalized by his arch nemesis, Ernie the Giant Chicken, he would return the next week or sometimes even the next minute completely unscathed.

However, that’s not the case with newer adult cartoons. In fact, the power behind Netflix’s BoJack Horseman largely stems from BoJack’s (Will Arnett) increasing depression. Dozens of conspiracy theories exist around Adult Swim’s Rick and Morty because the show pays such close attention to week-by-week and season-by-season continuity. Even lower-stake fare such as Bob’s Burgers clearly exists on a linear timeline. As I watched more cartoons than I probably should as an adult, I started to ask myself why this change was taking place and what effect it had on the stories we were watching. I think this new focus on continuity is a reflection of our willingness to now accept adult cartoons and cartoons in general as a form of art.

As anyone who has been a child knows, cartoons have always been a kid-dominated form of entertainment, but they’ve rarely been bound to the same continuity restraints that exist for adult animated comedies. Continuous stories in children’s programming existed as early as Season One of The Transformers series (1984). However, the rise of anime-influenced and superhero-inspired shows really continued that trend in the 2000’s. The stories that were being told in series like Pokemon, Teen Titans, and Spider-Man were based on episode-to-episode plot lines.

While this focus on serialized plot lines was happening in kid’s world, adult animated fare grew from episode-of-the-week formats — which makes sense. One of the biggest advantages animated sitcoms have over their live-action peers is their format. Even the best, most popular sitcoms are limited by their very human and visibly aging actors. How I Met Your Mother is still my go-to sick day show, but seeing the gang getting into the same sitcom antics at 40 as they did when they were 20 is less funny and more painful. Seeing our favorite characters age reminds us that time does exist, forcing us to hold these characters to a higher, more mature standard. You largely don’t experience that with animated sitcoms.

Bart and Lisa Simpson have been 10 and eight years old for 27 seasons now. This same lack of aging goes for the Simpsons, the Griffins, the Smiths (American Dad), and even the South Park gang for 16 of the show’s 18 seasons. For the most part, these shows exist in episode-only realms.

Sure, a character who is introduced in one season may make an appearance next season, but those “new” characters are often treated like they’ve always been a part of the fabric of the show. Continuity used to only lasted for a two to three episode arc, like Family Guy’s Star Wars specials, or to make a point, like when South Park killed of Isaac Hayes’ character, Chef. But there are exceptions to this lack of continuity.

Cult favorite Futurama, created by The Simpsons’ mastermind, Matt Groening, largely existed in bottled episodes, but the series as a whole had one long thread of continuity: Fry’s relationship with Leela. It was a experimental show, true to its nature as a sci-fi comedy. Switch to today, and Futurama’s dedication to series-wide plot development doesn’t seem so extraordinary.

Most of the top animated adult sitcoms of today all exist in timeline-regulated universes: Bob’s Burgers, Archer (hello again, H. John Benjamin), BoJack Horseman, and Rick and Morty. In these universes, characters can and do recall specific in-series moments, plot lines, and the emotions that are connected to those plot lines, even if the characters themselves never age. Even South Park has played with continuity these past two seasons.

Seasons 18 and 19 have abandoned the undeniably-epic two and three part episode arcs to instead create season-long arc. Last week’s finale was about ultimately defeating PC Principal and PC culture — a topic that was introduced in the season’s first episode. I think this South Park change a lot to do with how innovative (and easily bored) Trey Parker and Matt Stone are as creators, but I think it also says a lot about the changing landscape of adult animated comedies.

Focusing on continuity has given us some great television. Season Two brought us a BoJack who had to conquer reignited fame. Archer Vice brought us a drug and action fueled Miami Vice reimagining that explained the show’s distancing from ISIS. Morty from Rick and Morty continues to have PTSD after burying his own body. However, as compelling and interesting as these plot lines are, they limit the amount of stories the series can tell.

BoJack Horseman is never going to hit the Family Guy-esque reset button. BoJack has one story, and Netflix is going to tell it to us season to season until it’s over. Just like in live-action sitcoms, there is a limitation that comes from plot continuity. Which is OK.

It’s good that this formula is expanding because it proves that American networks and streaming services are trusting adult animation more. The bottom line is we’re going to continue to see different variations of these comedies — and it’s going to be great.