There are two kinds of “adult” television: the kind that uses mature themes like violence and nudity to titillate, and the kind that uses them to tell more complex stories. Hazbin Hotel, Prime Video’s new animated musical-comedy series (premiering Jan. 19), fits into the former camp. Priding itself on its massive amounts of innuendo and profane language, the series often obscures its legitimate charms with its see-through attempts at subversion. While there’s some fun to be had with its song-and-dance mode, it’s impossible to ignore how closely Hazbin’s concepts of mature themes and comedy match up with those of a 15-year-old boy.
Hazbin Hotel got its start on YouTube in 2019, when twenty-something artist Vivienne Medrano uploaded a half-hour pilot that she wrote, directed, and animated herself. She’d first gained a following there with her animated, unofficial music videos, with her own characters lip-syncing to popular songs; the pilot capitalized on that gimmick while adding in a story, dialogue, and original music. The impressively crafted short eventually attracted nearly 100 million views, and Medrano’s spinoff shorts featuring the characters singing new songs further grew the fanbase. Eventually, Medrano landed a production and distribution deal with A24, and fans have waited with bated breath for the full-fledged series ever since.
Both the YouTube pilot and the Prime Video series follow Charlie, the happy-go-lucky princess of Hell, where she’s recently opened a hotel-meets-rehabilitation center to help demons become angels. That way, they can make it out of Hell before the angels in Heaven come and exterminate them to curb overpopulation, as they do on an annual basis—a process which, in the series, speeds up by six months after Charlie accidentally pisses off the angels in charge. With the pressure now on, Charlie and her motley crew of guests sing their hearts out as she slowly sells them on her untested plan for salvation. At the same time, other shadowy figures emerge with their own plans for defeating the angels and seizing control of Hell.
Despite having what seems like a great premise for a hangout comedy, Hazbin struggles with its storytelling. The show’s lore is condensed into a brisk explainer at the top of the premiere, and new characters and subplots are introduced abruptly. With eight episodes to pad out, Medrano (who created and co-writes the Prime Video show) tries to breathlessly expand the narrative to accommodate the increased runtime—while still including multiple musical numbers. But stuffing more into it makes the show feel bloated, not fuller.
Scene from Hazbin Hotel
Hazbin treats its raunchy tone as an equal selling point to its story. This version of Hell has everything: bloody bodies decomposing on the street; cannibals feasting in front of burning buildings; and public displays of kinky sex. It’s easy to appreciate this garish backdrop visually, thanks to the show’s gorgeous color palette of maroons and purples; the fantastic, vibrant animation is Hazbin’s best asset by far.
But Hazbin’s Hell only works when it’s used in ironic contrast to Charlie’s cheery persona. Otherwise, it subsists only on superficial shock value, a flaw that plagues the entire show. Despite the errant dominatrixes and omnipresent death, the sordid setting is neither grotesque nor novel; if you’re grossed out, you probably haven’t watched any recent Adult Swim cartoon. The most horrific thing about these Hell demons is their penchant for incessant, lame sex jokes and phrases like “rancid fuckhole.” Whether or not you find the occasional gore scary and cartoon characters screaming “pussy” hilarious is on you, but it’s hard to argue that any of this is boundary-pushing for an adult viewer.
Scene from Hazbin Hotel
The immaturity in particular would be easier to forgive if it didn’t hog up so much of the show’s air, especially at the expense of developing its characters. For the most part, the characters subscribe to basic archetypes: Charlie is a wannabe Disney princess prone to chipper musical numbers. Angel Dust, who lives at the hotel, is a porn star that’s constantly calling people “Daddy” and quipping about the cost of crack. Charlie’s loyal girlfriend Vaggie is the foul-mouthed tomboy to Charlie’s peppy girly-girl. These dynamics can be amusing and even affecting when the show takes time to explore them, but Hazbin prefers its cast to have rudderless, profane banter, shouting “fuck you” while flipping the bird at each other. (If Angel has any lines that don’t include the words “fuck,” “shit,” “pussy,” “whore,” or “titfucker,” I haven’t heard them.)
The repetitive dialogue often stands in the way of story progression or character depth, fueling pointless and extended moments like Angel demanding to film a sex tape to use as a hotel commercial, and an angel repeatedly insisting that Charlie call him “the dick-fucking master.” But where the characters and comedy flounder, the songs shine. Hazbin Hotel’s musical numbers are, if not always standouts, consistently fun—an achievement for a show that’s tasked with having two-to-three original songs per half-hour episode. Charlie’s Disney pastiches sound like the real thing, and Angel’s dance-pop tracks harken back to what first made Medrano YouTube-popular. The lyrics mostly underline the obvious—Hell looks decrepit to everyone but Charlie! Angel chases sex and drugs to mask his self-loathing!—but they’re poetry compared to the show’s dick jokes and childish affinity for swears.
As Hazbin Hotel trudges toward the season’s halfway mark, the show discovers some semblance of complexity. A visit from Charlie’s deadbeat dad Lucifer, from whom she inherited her irrepressible cheeriness, is both funny and revealing about the seemingly undaunted princess. A traumatic experience on a film set reveals the pain behind Angel Dust’s porn-star persona. The profanity even dies down a little bit—the sign of real maturity for a show like this.
It’s clear that art and music are Medrano’s strong suits, not screenwriting. But in transitioning the YouTube hit to streaming, she borrowed from the wrong “adult TV” playbook, the one that prioritizes cheap thrills over deep thought. Hopefully Hazbin Hotel will stay on a more compelling path on its way toward the already confirmed Season 2, continuing to explore characters’ traumas, desires, and fears. Otherwise, beyond beautiful animation and toe-tapping tunes, there’s little reason to further extend its stay.
‘Hazbin Hotel’ Is the Most Frustrating Kind of Raunchy ‘Adult’ TV
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11.01.2024
There are two kinds of “adult” television: the kind that uses mature themes like violence and nudity to titillate, and the kind that uses them to tell more complex stories. Hazbin Hotel, Prime Video’s new animated musical-comedy series (premiering Jan. 19), fits into the former camp. Priding itself on its massive amounts of innuendo and profane language, the series often obscures its legitimate charms with its see-through attempts at subversion. While there’s some fun to be had with its song-and-dance mode, it’s impossible to ignore how closely Hazbin’s concepts of mature themes and comedy match up with those of a 15-year-old boy.
Hazbin Hotel got its start on YouTube in 2019, when twenty-something artist Vivienne Medrano uploaded a half-hour pilot that she wrote, directed, and animated herself. She’d first gained a following there with her animated, unofficial music videos, with her own characters lip-syncing to popular songs; the pilot capitalized on that gimmick while adding in a story, dialogue, and original music. The impressively crafted short eventually attracted nearly 100 million views, and Medrano’s spinoff shorts featuring the characters singing new songs further grew the fanbase. Eventually, Medrano landed a production and distribution deal with A24, and fans have waited with bated breath for the full-fledged series ever since.
Both the YouTube pilot and the Prime Video series follow Charlie, the happy-go-lucky princess of Hell, where she’s recently opened a hotel-meets-rehabilitation center to help demons become angels. That way, they can make it out........
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