Netflix's Long Story Short is a worthy successor to BoJack Horseman, the best animated series of all time

That's when the anthropomorphic animals and silly cutaway gags started to give way to a darkness hidden just below the bright pastel animation and endless sight gags.

That's not the case this time around with Raphael Bob-Waksberg's long-awaited follow-up, Long Story Short.

Far removed from the depravity of Hollywood, this story of a Jewish family navigating life together is immediately endearing in its emotional honesty. Upon meeting the Schwoopers at a special weekend get-together, the first episode jumps ahead in time for one last scene that hints at a much wider story told over seven decades.

From the 1950s through to the 2020s, Long Story Short spends time with each family member and the various relationships they form, weaving an expansive yet easy-to-follow timeline that organically captures the complexity of family dynamics with warmth, yes, but also painful truths as well.

Dead characters come back to life and seemingly insignificant details become infinitely more important later on, upon finishing the season as a whole.

This temporal juggling is especially moving in regard to Naomi Schwartz, the matriarch who obsessively loves her children, but can't stop criticising them regardless. Other standouts include her son, Yoshi, who struggles to fit in, and her daughter, Shira, who provides a rare example of Judaism and queerness intersecting on screen.

Said Judaism is as integral to Long Story Short as the altar of celebrity and influence is in BoJack Horseman.

It's there in the use of specific Jewish language — "Dude, your davening was on point! Mr Leibowitz was kvellin’ like a felon!". It's there in the humour, which includes a few dark Holocaust jokes only Jewish people could make. And most crucially of all, it's also there in beautiful discussions of identity, particularly at the end of the season when Avi's daughter questions if she was "Jewish enough" for Grandma.

Each example feels unapologetically Jewish in very specific ways without alienating wider audiences. Quite the opposite, in fact.

BoJack Horseman was very consciously presented as a TV show, be it through fourth wall breaks, the ironic humour, and, of course, the fact that many of the characters were talking animals.

Long Story Short abandons that "crutch" (as Bob-Waksberg described it to Variety) to ground the storytelling in something much more "realistic". That's true even with the seemingly simpler animation, which is more 'cartoony' in its impressionistic, less defined scribbles, which makes it easier for us to see ourselves in the unfolding dynamics.

That's not to say BoJack Horseman lacks intimacy. In fact, the emotional depths of that show were often uncomfortable and verged on unbearable precisely because of how real they felt. BoJack was deeply unlikeable in some aspects, especially as more truths were revealed later down the line, but that's what made this talking horse so human.

Bob-Waksberg has never been afraid of plumbing those depths when it comes to writing characters with real emotional candour. As such, the Schwoopers can also be unlikeable sometimes (although not to those extremes). This family often argues, as real families do, and they can really hurt each other in the ways that only those who know you best truly can.

One particular gut-wrenching confrontation between Naomi and her children left me in tears. Because even when your heart is in the right place, what might feel like small differences or misunderstandings can eventually tear families apart without even meaning to.

It's in the layers of traumas large and small, self-inflicted and inflicted on others, where BoJack Horseman and Long Story Short share the most common ground. Well, that and the frequent moments of absurdist humour and wordplay.

Because yes, when Yoshi starts selling mattresses that shoot out of a tube for work, the company does of course have a "soft launch". And when wolves, actual wolves, show up in Hannah's school, only Naomi's oldest son, Avi, reacts in the way you might expect.

The combined result of all this is another show that's unmistakably the work of Bob-Waksberg, even if it looks, acts and sounds different from BoJack Horseman. Both stories are simultaneously moving and devastating, deeply intimate and wildly ambitious all at once.

At the risk of jumping ahead, much like the show itself often does, there's scope here for Long Story Short to reach those same heights that BoJack Horseman did and maybe, just maybe, become another contender for best animated series of all time.

At the very least, it's hard to imagine another show this poignant coming anytime soon. If only we could glimpse ahead in time, as Bob-Waksberg does with the Schwoopers, to see how this series will ultimately be remembered.

Long Story Short is available to stream now on Netflix – sign up for Netflix from £5.99 a month. Netflix is also available on Sky Glass and Virgin Media Stream.

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