Space Dandy Showed Just How Much Fun Episodic Storytelling Can Be

In The Late Great, Primetimer staffers and contributors revisit shows that were cut short, but still cast a long shadow over the TV landscape.

It’s been a little more than 10 years since Shinichirō Watanabe, creator of Cowboy Bebop, introduced us to one of his best characters with a simple monologue: “He’s a dandy guy… in space. He combs the galaxy like his pompadour on the hunt for aliens. Planet after planet he searches, discovering bizarre new creatures both friendly and not.”

That this is really all anyone needs to know about Space Dandy before diving into any given episode (save its grand finale) is what makes the Bones original series not only an immensely accessible series but a perfect episodic anthology of sorts. Whatever miniature reference to an ongoing narrative exists, almost all tied to the show’s laughably inept recurring villain, the great pleasure of Space Dandy is watching a variety of storytellers get the chance to play in the sandbox that Watanabe has created. To him, and co-creator Shingo Natsume, the entire universe is a playground, one full of absurdities and oddities, with each creative getting a chance to craft their own 20-minute tale of what our boy Dandy is up to this week.

While the show’s own introduction is sufficient, there’s a lot more to Space Dandy. It’s a lot like the space operas and serials of a bygone era, fixated on a single individual, those that surround them, and their ongoing misadventures. In this case, that would be the bounty hunter Dandy, a man as useless at discovering rare aliens as he is obsessed with women (a bit of recurring fan service that often gets turned on its head, including once with a massive, grotesque boob monster). Alongside the colorful character are his equally hapless crewmates, the robot QT and the feline alien Meow, and behind all of Dandy’s nonsense, there is, in fact, an entire evil empire following him around and always failing to catch him.

To say that the show is all a little stupid isn’t a stretch, but that’s more of a compliment than an insult here. Its stupidity is part of its overwhelming charm and the way each of these contained episodes manipulate that idiocy is what makes the viewer want to return. If you’re not a fan of any given episode, the next one offers a new adventure worth your time. The series is even vocal about just how ridiculous it can be, not simply because it opens by positioning itself as a series about a man who spends his days dreaming of going to Space Hooters (named Boobies in universe), but because it embraces its contained episodic nature by often resulting in the protagonists meeting their untimely demise in some capacity.

Each installment of Space Dandy differs from the last on practically every level beyond the characters; what’s a laugh-out-loud action-comedy one minute is a surprisingly touching dramatic work the next. It all depends on who is controlling Dandy. Some of the show’s most engaging episodes are the simplest, like Natsume and Dai Satō’s Season 1 finale, “Even Vacuum Cleaners Fall in Love, Baby.” It’s arguably the most sincere the series ever gets, focusing on QT’s day-to-day life as he falls in love with a coffee maker at a robot shop he visits, but no less engaging than any given bit of planetary exploration the show goes for. Equally romantic is Masahiro Mukai and Kimiko Ueno’s episode, “Lovers Are Trendy, Baby,” in which Dandy poses as boyfriend for Scarlet, the receptionist at the alien registration center. The episode is not without a sense of humor, throwing tons of aliens Dandy’s way once he doesn’t need them, but it is at its best when it embraces the kind of melodrama designed to make one’s heart ache.

While some of the creatives hew closely to established anime tropes and making fun of tried-and-true classic science fiction narratives — from an episode chock full of George Romero references (down to him “directing” it) to another introducing alternate reality versions of Dandy that mimic Gundam and Gurren Lagann’s characters aesthetics — those who experiment with form and narrative truly make the series shine.

The beauty is in something as minor as just playing with dimensions in animation, as Satoshi Saga and Toh EnJoe’s “An Other-Dimensional Tale, Baby” does, literally throwing its characters out of the 3D realm into a 2D one that looks like an 8-bit video game (and then even a 1D realm that’s just a single line). Or in watching Dandy have to navigate a seemingly endless time loop of a single day, with Masayuki Miyaji, Seiichi Hashimoto, and Hiroyuki Aoyama managing to balance the show’s sense of humor with depth of character in their episode, “There’s Always Tomorrow, Baby.”

The individual episodic animation of Space Dandy boasts the same cartoon physics that any given Tex Avery or Chuck Jones short might have, with characters being thrown around, chased, bombed, you name it, and miraculously surviving without a scratch (or maybe a few). And while most episodes are identifiably similar, the series’s style also has the benefit of being toyed with and manipulated throughout. Some of the most notable stylistic changes come from animators who have their own developed aesthetics outside of being hired hands.

Take Masaaki Yuasa’s episode, “Slow and Steady Wins the Race, Baby,” which from the very first frame establishes itself as something only he could make. It has his distinct almost sketch-like style and so much packed into each frame that it’s impossible to catch every little bit of art without a rewatch. It embraces the same surrealism and playfulness in mixing in contrasting styles (most notably gorgeous watercolor) that Yuasa has loved since Mind Game, and results in a truly unforgettable episode in spite of following the show’s formula. His Science Saru co-founder Eunyoung Choi’s episode, “Plants Are Living Things, Too, Baby,” is just as distinct and something of a precursor to all the work that the duo would make together.

In many ways, it isn’t all that dissimilar to Watanabe’s other works and the way they play with tone, be it Bebop’s love of parodying various genres or even Samurai Champloo’s dedication to bringing in guest creators to play with both form and tone. The musicality of his work is present here, though Space Dandy’s jazziness and love of disco and electronic beats is far more crazed than the moodiness of his calmer works. This interest in weaving in music ranges from an episode that’s practically Glee in space, a direct tribute to John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever, and so much funky original music that it had to be collected on two separate albums (Best Hit BBP and Boobies Wonderland).

Where so many contemporary series have forgotten what it means to introduce a plot and dispose of it within the same episode, instead favoring a drawn-out seasonal arc and a focus on the grander narrative, Space Dandy is a testament to the magic of serialized storytelling. It’s endlessly delightful, impressively gorgeous, and shockingly moving — the kind of series that you can watch any episode of, should you find yourself missing the absolute clown that holds it all together.

Juan Barquin is a Miami-based writer, programmer, filmmaker, and co-creator of the queer film series Flaming Classics. They aspire to be Bridget Jones.