The Umbrella Academy’s Joyful Fuckery
The Umbrella Academy’s Joyful Fuckery
The Umbrella Academy cannot be compared to The Seven or even to the Avengers. The closest comparison that can be made would be the X-Men. Almost too obvious, really, even for a casual X-Men fan. For the diehard X-Men fan, the connections go deep. The adopted sibling relationships that shift into romantic relationships, team members that suddenly become the conflict or the villain, the impossible missions, aged British leader, and, of course, the humor. Still, it is more than another take on a beloved superhero trope. It exists in and of itself by leaning into its fuckery, instead of nobility.
What is with our love of dysfunction on the screen? From Married With Children to Rick and Morty, we love to see broken people. Maybe we like to think we’re better than them or maybe we imagine we are them. It seems either narcissistic or masochistic, but perhaps watching dysfunction on the screen is actually cathartic.
Unlike many other shows, The Umbrella Academy has joy in its dysfunction. There’s something humorous about that my other favorite show, The Boys, lacks. No matter what they’re facing, it gives feel-good vibes promising us all that all will be right in the end. The Umbrella Academy has a strange wholesomeness in the series. Luther (Number 1) announced that all they have between them is that they are “bonded by childhood trauma,” but that is not wholly true. The siblings of the academy tease, fight, lie, but consistently make the choice to support each other through the messiness.
In fact, the heroes superpowers are all grossly dysfunctional–Luther is a super strong apeman, Allison (Number 3) can use her voice to make you her puppet, Klaus (Number 4) is a recovering addict who sees the dead, Vanya/Viktor (Number 7) can destroy the world with a temper tantrum, and Diego (Number 2) is an idiotic knife wielding…something? All they have in common is their abuse from their father who consistently spins the wheels to put them in cataclysmic danger. Much of their time talking is like a drunk family reunion where all the adult children regale stories of how fucked up their childhood was and how much resentment they carry. It’s hilariously sad, and oftentimes relatable. The difference is they make the choice to push past it–at least until the next apocalypse.
We watch their wacky, impossible Hollywood odds, and we know that if they somehow survive, then we will. Season Two brings a bunch of confusing plot twists, each one more outrageous than the last. It works only because of the consistency of the characters. Allison will brood. Klaus will always be a loveable scamp, Luther will always be dim-witted but sweet, Five will always be Five. Even the death of Vanya and the birth of Viktor–Viktor remain the same character who is hungry for belonging. We can count on their dysfunctional ways of seeking and sharing love. As their story unfolds, we are met with a strange catharsis. Watching the worst happen drives us to want to see them become better, and that we can become better. After all, we’re faced with far less ridiculous obstacles.
Seasons 1 and 2 are exclusively available on Netflix.
