Tuca & Bertie (Review)
Tuca and Bertie. The Sugar Bowl. © 2019 - Netflix
I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from Netflix’s Tuca & Bertie, all I knew was that Ali Wong and Tiffany Haddish were involved, and that was enough for me. The vibrant, gloriously ridiculous, BoJack Horseman-esque cartoon is a show created by a woman for women.
We follow best friends Tuca, the toucan, and Bertie, the songbird, as they navigate life in Bird Town. The two play the odd couple with Tuca painted as the ex-alcoholic, irresponsible, wild child, while Bertie is the anxiety-ridden, reserved friend.
Creator Lisa Hanawalt and company succeed in creating fun-loving characters that compliment each other well. The majority of the first season focuses on the hard lessons many learn as they grow; it’s time to own up to your bull***t and change. Through fantastical plotlines, the show depicts what it’s like for two best girlfriends in the quarter-life crisis/I’m 30 stages of their lives. When I say fantastical, I mean wonderfully absurd. There is a full episode where Tuca and her sex bugs help Bertie with her anxiety and another where Tuca basically starts a cult.
Furthermore, the show succeeds in blending serious and dark topics with the absurdity of the world. It’s similar to the way Big Mouth deals with puberty and the like through outrageous means but still manages to connect these experiences with the audience no matter how wild the plot or setting. Tuca and Bertie does the same. Everything from sexual harassment, addiction, and sexual assault are covered in meaningful ways.
The last few episodes of the season hit the hardest. We find that all joking aside, each of these characters are complex individuals who have plenty left to figure out and confront. If we’re blessed with a second season, and the show deserves one, I hope we spend more time and give more space to dealing with the darker topics. Watching Tuca and Bertie navigate them are part of what makes the show easy to enjoy, especially as a woman.
Hanawalt also introduces us to the collective Bird Town residents, including Bertie’s well-meaning, very vanilla, boyfriend, Speckle (Steven Yeun). Speckle is an architect depicted as the non-adventurous, nerdy boyfriend with a heart of gold, and lots of love for his lady. There’s Pastry Pete, penguin, and mentor to Bertie who has some questionable teaching methods, and Dirk, the mansplaining bro we all know and hate, who is rightfully a rooster. However, my favorite characters in the series are the teenage plant mean girls, and Draca, Tuca’s plant lady neighbor. The three teenage mean girls hang out on the building fire escape, judging people and giving backhanded compliments to passersby like Bertie. Draca is the cool, chill girl we all wish we were. She has all of the answers, her own successful pimple popper youtube page, and is someone who’s very secure in her body, whipping her shirt off to let the girls breath whenever she wants. The show plays up the usual tropes and character types that women come across at some point in their lifetime and adds it’s own weird twist to them.
On any given day depending on the circumstances anyone in their late 20s to early 30s completely understands what the girls are going through. Both Tuca and Bertie are so relatable; it’s hard to identify with just one. Some days you're a Tuca, and some days you're a Bertie. If you hate BoJack Horseman and Big Mouth, this might not be the show for you. Still, the fact that the show exists should be celebrated considering the lack of female-led animation, but the weird originality and visuals combined with engaging stories make the season well worth the watch.
About the Author
Deanna Gomez is a Lecturer at California State University Fullerton and Editor in Chief of the WODC blog.