An implicit “hardship is inevitable, hopelessness is a choice” message pervades nearly every episode of The Venture Bros. And now, as the series finale arrives this month with the DTV movie Radiant Is the Blood of the Baboon Heart, this concept is explored once more. (Zack Handlen nailed it when reviewing the film for IGN, calling it “a fitting finale for a show that never failed to stay true to itself.”) It closes out the story not by answering every question the series ever asked, but by checking in on the emotional wellbeing of its characters. Like the seven seasons preceding it, the film doubles as a wellness check and a pick-me-up for its characters and its fans.
The Venture Bros. continues to resonate because it isn’t afraid to speak to life’s ugly truths, an approach that wouldn’t work if it weren’t so authentic. Initially conceived as a Jonny Quest spoof, the popular adult animated series evolved to capture life’s messiness in ways few other stories think — or dare — to do. Its handling of family, failure, love, and existentialism has always created a space to explore how our trials have shaped us, and how talking about those experiences helps us move through them. Creators Christopher McCulloch (pseudonym Jackson Publick) and Doc Hammer know that the cartoon medium’s innate separation from reality makes its lessons digestible without robbing them of their potency. The Venture Bros.’ entertainment value is undeniable, but its willingness to confront uncomfortable realities makes it an incredibly safe space to broach — and digest — difficult topics.
The Venture Bros. populates itself with characters born to blunder. Rusty Venture, the eccentric, self-aggrandizing patriarch of the Ventures, is Hammer and Publick’s version of “daddy issues meet privilege.” There are Hank and Dean Venture, Rusty’s goofy, sheltered sons. And then you’ve got The Monarch, the bug-themed supervillain whose persistent “arching” of Dr. Venture provides ample opportunity for the creators to explore failure.
Life is messy, and while The Venture Bros. never misses a chance to remind us of this in the most achingly relatable and hilarious ways, it always does so with an acceptance that is a triumph in itself. A show so unequivocally honest is bound to catch people off-guard, but with Hammer and Publick’s baby, it was done with such honesty and earnestness that it quickly became irresistible.
The Venture Bros.’ ‘whistle in the dark’ approach to hardship balances out its pessimism.
As much as it emphasizes its characters’ screw-ups, though, The Venture Bros.’ “whistle in the dark” approach to hardship balances out its pessimism. It enfeebles the despair without dismissing the experience, a hard line to walk when you’re attempting to meld humor with emotional tact. Look no further than the series’ naming conventions. Molotov Cocktease? Phantom Limb? Baron Ünderbheit? By grounding its continuity in an intrinsic silliness, the series is free to explore life’s toughest-to-swallow realities without once betraying its tone.
Take the clone subplot. The first season ends with Hank and Dean seemingly perishing in a fiery scooter crash. Season 2 doubles down on this, not only confirming their demise but revealing they’re clones who’ve died multiple times. Hank and Dean don’t learn the truth until several seasons later. Dean, having been clued in a full season before Hank, languishes, unsure of how to tell his brother and furious with the world for putting this on his shoulders. An existential crisis is an easier sell if it’s happening to cartoon clones, but Hammer and Publick frame it so that it feels as potent and exquisite as it would if it were experienced by actual people.
In the Season 5 finale, “The Devil’s Grip,” Dean comes clean to Hank about what’s been eating him. Hammer and Publick spent almost five seasons building to this conversation before resolving it almost casually. Rather than spiral into the same depression that dominated his brother’s arc that season, Hank integrates this knowledge into an already-strong sense of self-actualization. “Just another great thing about being a Venture,” he says with a grin. Dean smiles back, his crisis evaporating. This moment doesn’t mean the cloning thing wouldn’t come up again, but it does show how proper framing can make navigating an unpleasant truth less overwhelming.
Hammer said a version of this in the commentary for Season 2’s DVD release: “It’s about the beauty of failure. It’s about that failure happens to all of us… Every character is not only flawed, but sucks at what they do, and is beautiful at it, and Jackson and I suck at what we do, and we try to be beautiful at it, and failure is how you get by… It shows that failure’s funny, and it’s beautiful and it’s life, and it’s okay, and it’s all we can write because we are big… failures.”
The Venture Bros. has always had the good sense — and the bedside manner — to underpin everything it does with cheerful acceptance. Despite the fact that it’s over, it’s assured that Hammer, Publick, and everyone involved with this big, brave, silly meditation on being human will continue to resonate.
Hayden Mears is an entertainment journalist who enjoys pretty much everything pertaining to pop culture. He also likes fitness boxing and writing bios in the third person.
About Author
