When
the first series of Rick and Morty came out, I was completely smitten. It hit
all the right notes: dark humour, cosmic horror, interesting speculative ideas.
I liked how it was creative with its position as an animated
sitcom, like with its absurd multiple universes and segments built around
improvised nonsense. I liked how sharp and merciless the comedy was, and how
its episode ideas had this Twilight Zone science-fiction ethos to them. It was
like all our weird Christmases had come at once.
Word
spread, with me doing lots of the spreading, and when the long-awaited second
series arrived, the show was the hottest new thing, riding a hype it well
deserved. I was duly excited – after all, in my experience, the first series of
any show, particularly sitcoms, often suffers from its position as the starting
point, and it’s usually by the second or third series that a show truly finds
its footing, and has greater confidence in what it needs to be. Therefore, I
figured that the next few series of Rick and Morty would be even better than
its impressive beginning.
