Rick and Morty: Season Finale Review

Alright guys. Hey guys. Look: I know we haven’t reviewed any Rick and Morty, That’s not for lack of desire, it’s for lack of time, alright guys? You know what I mean when I say, when I say I haven’t had any time? Yeah, while you guys have been bleep bloopin your blip blops, I’ve been busy working, and being a parent, and, like, dealing with a sick toddler, AND a sick wife. You know what that’s like? Yeah. That’s what I thought.

So, when I say that I just finished — just. finished. — the season two finale and couldn’t help but write something about it, you know how serious it is. And because this is Rick and Morty, and it’s a grown up cartoon for grown up people, I’ve gotta invoke the principles behind this gif:

Rick and Morty sensitive

That means if I spoil it, you’ve gotta put on your big boy (or girl, I don’t discriminate) plague mask and deal with it. Alright? Good.

So, my theory of Rick and Morty is that it’s a philosophical pessimism tragicomedy space opera. Always has been, always will be. And if you don’t know what I mean by “philosophical pessimism,” go watch True Detective (just the first season? Apparently?) and get yourself educated. Jesus. I can’t be responsible for every little fragment of your life.

The problem with philosophical pessimism is that it isn’t really fit for human consumption. The only ways we have to deal with it are to detach from reality in a psychotic way, drink ourselves into a stupor, or recognize that we only have a limited amount of time and space while we hurdle through this stupid universe, and your best bet is to try to game the system while you’re here. The problem, though, is as living creatures, our very cells and chemicals predispose us toward wanting to live, and admiring life. See that baby? Here, have some dopamine, says our brain. Oh, you liked those strawberries did you? Here’s some dopamine. Yeah, you like how running three times a week lowers your bad cholesterol¬† and prevents heart disease? Dopamine. On the house. Our brain is a life chemical pusher, and our bodies are junkies.

We see all this in Rick Sanchez. And we see it all culminate.

The episode centers around this.https://i2.wp.com/i.imgur.com/yGRtQ0P.gif

Bird Person’s wedding, in which he gets shot by his bride, Tammy, who turns out to be working for the Galactic Federation. They don’t like Rick, or Bird Person, or most of the people at the wedding, and the hunt is on. But Rick knows, all things being equal, the universe is an equally horrible place no matter where you go, but he doesn’t want to get caught. Three worlds sport the kind of life they want, but they have their own issues. The first one:https://i1.wp.com/i.imgur.com/dsBfWRL.gif

And I don’t even have to communicate to you the dangers of a cob based planet.

The second, which speaks for itself:

https://i0.wp.com/i.imgur.com/3svsfQ0.gif

The planet they end up occupying? I mean, it’s not terrible, but they did hunt the pig to extinction for breakfast.

morty planet
Uh, 20 yards that way, or, y’know, 300 yards the other way.

And that’s where Rick’s self serving pessimism hits the wall. The only way for his family to be happy is for him to be absent. So that’s what he becomes.

And then that music? Damn, girl.

So what do you think happens next, huh? Oooooeeee!

My prediction is a definitive and nearly irreversible schism between Jerry and his family as the rest of the family attempts to rescue Rick. And Jerry? Since he’s all about that positive reinforcement and he just got a job (an intergalactic government job even), and he’s going to feel the need to be loyal to the alpha dogs in his world. OOOOOEEEEE! Gonna be family versus family you think? Huh? OOOOOOEEEEE! Wubalubdubdubs!

Published by

jh montgomery

I'm a guy with opinions. Some of those are about science fiction. Like a voice shouting into a hurricane of voices, I write about science fiction for Hush Comics. I grew up watching the original Star Trek with my mom in our basement. I have shockingly few memories of it, apart from the silver and gray grid covered VHS boxes old Star Trek tapes came in, but it left it's mark forever. My first memory of being in a movie theater was Star Trek V: The Final Frontier. A group entered dressed as the crew of Star Trek, acting the part (the man dressed in Vulcan robes addressing the man with a middle-aged lesbian perm as captain). I nearly lost my mind with the excitement of sharing a theater with Leonard Nimoy. No no, my mom would tell me: that's someone dressing up. Impossible. Later, I would walk in on my parents watching the wrong movie at the wrong moment and be mortally terrified of alien abductions from the age of eight to thirteen. This fear was so strong, I couldn't watch the X-Files until it came to Netflix. As a teenager, hearing the theme song coming from another room in the house would give me anxiety. Science fiction, at its best is the pursuit, and evolution, toward transcendance: cultural, technological, spiritual. Transcendance marked me early, and forever.

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