An entire book could be written about the brilliance of Rick and Morty, but like I did with Hayao Miyazaki movies before, this post will focus specifically on conflict. In this case we'll look at the way this show approaches conflict, and how this approach gives it tremendous opportunities for thematic exploration in a way that most other TV shows could only dream of.
"Hiiiii, I'm a creative representation of the crushing despair
that comes with being unable to fulfill one's purpose on life! Look at me!"
Regardless of medium, conflict is usually thought of as the driving force of any story. Most plotlines can be boiled down to a character, or characters, facing adversity and finishing somewhere on the spectrum between success and failure. The underlying idea is that you're watching characters face challenges and respond to them in an engaging way. Sometimes they succeed in their goals, sometimes they don't. Sometimes their goals change. There are tons of different ways to structure and carry out a story, but what pushes everything forward is the conflict that challenges the character(s).
Rick and Morty takes that concept in creative, thought-provoking directions. In an unhinged sci-fi universe with aliens, alternate dimensions, and technology far beyond our own, there are plenty of chances for titular characters Rick and Morty to face serious external danger. And they do. The interesting thing about this show, though, is that we often don't feel like the main characters are in serious danger when Rick is around. Usually, with his trademark IDGAF attitude, he whips out some crazy invention that takes care of their problems. The conflict comes not from their external circumstances but from more human, internal sources when everyone is trying to deal with the way Rick "solved" the problem.
Take the above clip, a seemingly normal pre-opening credits scene that many television comedies use for quick throwaway gags. Here we have a simple conflict: Rick wants butter, but it's across the table from him. In a lesser sci-fi comedy scene, we might see Rick invent some sort of makeshift robot arm to reach across the table. The humor would come from the fact that, for a super genius, creating a complex tool is preferable to simply reaching over to get some butter.
Instead, Rick creates a self-aware robot that isn't entirely sure of its purpose in life. It passes the butter for Rick, then learns that this is the entire reason for its existence. Looking down at its robotic arms after this revelation, it mutters "oh my God" in despair, crushed by the realization that all it will ever be is a tool to fetch butter. Rick nonchalantly responds "welcome to the club", implying that human existence isn't much more meaningful either.
This is all done as an opening gag. Many TV shows will never reach the thematic complexity in the entirety of their run time.
Now, of course this is only a response to an insignificant conflict, not a major conflict that drives the episode. But this little intro serves as a perfect microcosm to what often happens in this show: a problem emerges, Rick solves it with an incredible gadget, and we're left dealing with the moral consequences of Rick's actions. To see what I mean, let's look at one of my favorite episodes, Big Trouble in Little Sanchez. Of course, THIS MEANS SPOILERS.
TINY SPOILERS!
The initial driving conflict of this episode is that a vampire is loose somewhere in the high school of Morty and Summer, Rick's grandkids. Rick transfers his consciousness into the body of a younger clone of himself in order to help Morty and Summer track down said vampire. Together, Tiny Rick and his grandkids hunt down this threat before it claims the lives of any more people.
If Rick and Morty followed a more conventional format, the entire episode would be about them trying to take out the monster while trying to keep Rick's secret, who would of course have trouble fitting in. Instead, Rick gains the approval of the school's kids instantly. About five minutes into the episode the group has already taken out the vampire (who is never even seen in the episode) and less than five minutes after that Morty casually mentions the secret identity of his grandpa, to zero consequence. The usual external conflicts that would normally drive this sort of episode are completely dropped by the wayside.
So what conflict drives the story after Rick and company breeze right through these external conflicts? Well, Tiny Rick is a teenage clone of Rick, and that clone's brain has trouble completely absorbing some of the heavier/darker thoughts. As Summer puts it: "when you put your mind into this body's young brain, it did what young brains do: it shoved the bad thoughts into the back and put a wall around them. But those bad thoughts are the real Rick. The fact that you're old, the fact that we're all going to die one day, the fact that the universe is so big that nothing in it matters, those facts are who you are. So you're trapped in there, and you can only come out in the form of Tiny Rick's teen angst!"
On second thought, nevermind, this sounds totally healthy.
As Tiny Rick pushes back the dark thoughts that permeate normal Rick's mind, Summer tries to get him back. Morty initially tries to avoid the problem because of how many points Tiny Ricky scores for his popularity with his crush, Jessica. Eventually he acknowledges that Rick needs help and the two of them confront Rick. The climax of the episode comes when they make him face his buried existential angst so that he can come to his senses and return to his old body.
What makes this direction for the episode noteworthy is that it forces us as viewers to grapple with our own lives, our own existential angst and personal demons. Not by ham-fisted monologues about how we need to confront these issues, but by Rick having a small meltdown as soon as he acknowledges he has been hiding from these questions as a teenager. As Rick despairs over his own mortality and all the uncertainty that comes with life, we as the audience are challenged to consider these questions ourselves in a direct and poignant way.
This is what happens more often with stories that are driven by more internal conflicts: we can take a moment to examine, and even confront, certain parts of our own feelings and thoughts as we watch fictional characters do the same on screen. This post is not to say that all conflict should be internal or asking deeply human questions about who we are, that would be just as limiting as having only external, action-oriented conflict. There's a full range of issues we face as human beings and a full spectrum of ways to represent that in the stories we tell. But it's nice to see a show daring to be different, structured in a way uncommon for its genre, and asking these sorts of questions that aren't often asked, due in large part to how it structures its conflict.
Thanks for reading!
*"Episodic" shows meaning shows where each episode has its own standalone plot, as compared to serial shows where every episode is following a grand, overarching plot.
