While Matthew Perry, like his other fellow Friends cast members (mainly Jennifer Aniston), may have been able to secure enough film work in the 90s and 00s to pass as an actor beyond the realm of mere sitcom television, there’s no denying that he will always be known as Chandler Bing. A.k.a.: the sarcastic, perennially joke-making, lovable lout of the friend group. The “shtick” wasn’t so bad though—it allowed Perry to live off the cush royalties (upwards of twenty million dollars a year) of said show whenever things might have gotten dire. Which they often did when it came to Perry’s patchy filmography (anyone who was ever subjected to, say, Three to Tango or Serving Sara would happily love to forget they ever saw it).
Matthew Perry’s spirit animal (literally), BoJack Horseman (voiced by Will Arnett), has his own questionable filmography (*cough cough* Secretatiat) outside of the TV series that made him a household name in the 90s, Horsin’ Around. And, like Perry, he’s constantly struggling with his various drug-related addictions. Not to mention bearing the personality of someone both self-loathing and narcissistic. A common combination among those “Hollywood people.”
Patty Lin, a former Friends writer who recently released the memoir End Credits: How I Broke Up With Hollywood, was sure to confirm the absurd narcissism and overall egocentricity of not just Perry, but each cast member when she rehashed, “The actors seemed unhappy to be chained to a tired old show when they could be branching out, and I felt like they were constantly wondering how every given script would specifically serve them. They all knew how to get a laugh, but if they didn’t like a joke, they seemed to deliberately tank it, knowing we’d rewrite it. Dozens of good jokes would get thrown out just because one of them had mumbled the line through a mouthful of bacon.”
BoJack’s approach to Horsin’ Around was largely the same, sleepwalking through the filming of the episodes, knowing the money was all but assured to roll in. After all, schlocky, “one size fits all” humor was spun gold in the 90s, and especially in the world of 90s broadcast television. As for Horsin’ Around, its premise was more closely aligned with a show like Punky Brewster (Horsin’ did, after all, premiere in 1987) or Full House. The family angle of both of these latter series playing up the idea that, sometimes, family isn’t who you’re born to, it’s who you choose. Friends essentially provided the same premise, proffering that, in a city like “New York” (or rather, New York as presented on a Burbank backlot), the likelihood of the people who moved there being in search of fresh start from the horrors of their suburban lives was bound to translate into the aforementioned cheeseball adage about how family is who you choose in the form of friends.
That sentiment became especially meta on Friends, with the cast members themselves forging a bond as a result of a shared experience that no one else could ever possibly understand (you know, the same type of bond forged between The Beatles or the Spice Girls as a result of becoming such cultural phenomenons). For BoJack, the cast member he shares a close bond with is Sarah-Lynn (Kristan Schaal). Although much younger than he is (a child star, as it were) at the start of filming Horsin’ Around, the two stay connected not just through the success of the show, but a shared substance abuse problem. One that BoJack helps to spur on with his generally bad, self-esteem-lowering advice. For yes, as it is said, “Misery loves company.” It is his negative influence over her, in fact, that leads to her eventual death by overdose.
Perry, of course, was known instead for talking people down from the ledge of their addiction issues, making an enduring commitment to helping those going through the same hell he went through, too. So, sure, Perry might have been a more altruistic, “good-hearted” 90s TV actor, but he shares BoJack’s painkiller-addicted ways, self-deprecating sense of humor and, famously, inability to maintain romantic relationships for very long. Much the same as BoJack—even though looking at Perry’s dating history read’s like a who’s who of 90s Hollywood (e.g., Yasmine Bleeth and Julia Roberts)—he appeared unable to make any sustained connection for very long (save for a six-year stint with Lizzy Caplan).
Perhaps this was a testament to his own fraught childhood, wherein he was unable to ever fully emotionally attach in a manner that wasn’t, at best, avoidant. This was all but assured with his parents’ divorce before he was even sentient, slowly “coming to” in a house divided. One that included both of his parents soon having other children with their new spouses. Perry, consequently, discovered the art of acting out (and acting) early on, drinking alcohol, stealing money and, of all things, beating up his fellow classmate, Justin Trudeau. In many regards, Perry bore all the cliches of the type of James Spader douchebag presented in numerous 80s movies (rounded out by the fact that Perry attended the Buckley School in Los Angeles). At least in the days before he physically evolved into a man with a slightly less, let’s say, “Bret Easton Ellis circa Less Than Zero’s release” aesthetic.
With each TV star having to constantly contend with their irrepressible demons (cropping up much too early in their lives), it is BoJack who has the more straightforward and expected near-death experience, attempting to overdose on painkillers before nearly drowning in the swimming pool at his old house in front of the “Hollywoo” sign. Hopefully, Perry’s own actual death had nothing to do with drugs or suicide; more than likely it was just one of those “freak things.” Nonetheless, one must admit that, among other similarities, the drowning in the hot tub parallel (at a home bought by 90s sitcom money) is particularly uncanny.
