Although it isn’t ranked as high “Angela,” this episode is definitely superior in terms of what it does for Todd’s backstory. It helps that we see his dynamic with Jorge play out in real time, but it helps even more that Jorge’s character is a lot more fully realized than Helen’s. Helen was too generic to leave a significant impression, but Jorge comes across as an actual person with his own specific experiences and worldview, both of which differ greatly from Todd’s. Seeing the two of them interact gives us a plausible, lived-in context for Todd’s lazy habits: it’s no wonder he would want so desperately to escape the pressure that Jorge constantly puts him under. He knows he has better things to do than prove himself to his uncompromising parents, and in the end, he doesn’t have to. But Jorge knows this is a world in which you have to prove yourself in order to be accepted—and that’s doubly true if you’re marginalized.
Jorge is everything Todd isn’t—eloquent, dapper, meticulous—because he has to be. The police officer already treats Jorge with more suspicion than is warranted, but if Jorge were any less articulate or well-dressed, he’d be treated even worse. He survives in an unjust society by conforming to it, and he puts so much energy into doing so that he can’t imagine someone else not doing the same, especially when that someone is his own son. Todd may technically be his stepson, but as Jorge is quick to point out, “I raised you as my own flesh.” Jorge viewed Todd as he would a blood relative, and thus assumed the two of them would have the same experiences. Instead of providing his son with a safe haven from an uncaring world, he made it his goal to harden him. But he failed to account for one key factor: Todd doesn’t look like him. Todd has certain privileges that Jorge doesn’t. And even when Jorge acknowledges that, he does so in a way that upholds the very standards of privilege that consistently put him at a disadvantage: if Todd wasn’t white, Jorge wouldn’t have apologized.
The assistant strike’s main plot function is to reunite Princess Carolyn with Judah and allow her to spend more time with Ruthie. Unfortunately, the strike itself contains little significance to the overall story, but that’s perhaps because Princess Carolyn takes such great efforts to distance herself from it. “Those are assistants. You’re not one of them anymore. You’re one of us now,” she says, seemingly to Casey, but more so to herself. It’s only when she recognizes her connection to the problem that she’s able to solve it.
Meanwhile, BoJack makes an astounding amount of progress that’s even more commendable considering he’s still holding true to what he asserted at the beginning of the season: as powerful as addiction can be, whether or not he succumbs to it is his choice. Dr. Champ chose to drive the rehab truck (of all things) to a bar. BoJack’s at as much risk as he is, but for all the time he spends at Bellican’s, he never downs a drop of alcohol. There are some things that are beyond his control, like how he ultimately couldn’t stop that stray bottle of vodka from falling into Dr. Champ’s hands, but he does have control over himself. So he’ll try his damnedest to fix the situation in any way he can, and in order to do that, he must first work through his own issues. He takes to heart the advice that Dr. Champ spouts but won’t follow: “You can’t help anybody else unless you’re honest with yourself.”
Perhaps the surest sign of BoJack’s growth is that ordinarily a mistake like this would send him spiraling, but this time, he doesn’t let it weigh him down. He knows the extent to which it was his fault, and he knows the extent to which it isn’t. He sets Dr. Champ out on the right path, but it’s not BoJack’s responsibility to make sure Dr. Champ sticks to it. He does everything he can to make things right, knowing that even then, it won’t stop Dr. Champ from blaming him wholeheartedly. But BoJack has no say in the matter. What he does have a say in is how he responds, and he does the one thing that Dr. Champ refuses to: move forward.
In My Humble Onion 
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