Content warning: Centaurworld heavily deals with themes of loss, identity crisis, depression, anxiety and other mental health topics. Read this review and watch at your own discretion.
Deception is an effective way to hook your audience on a premise.
Often, the lure will be something saccharine, and the deception will lead the viewer right into a realm of despair and intrigue that makes them want to press deeper and deeper into an enriching narrative. Sometimes it’s old animatronics from family pizza restaurants. Sometimes it’s a specific style of cartoon put in a more adult setting.
In some cases, though, it’s a children’s cartoon full of colorful equines living in a magical world and fighting back against the dark forces that plague their world.
…or is it?
On the surface, Netflix’s Centaurworld looks to be a show in the same vein as My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, albeit with a variety of centaurs instead of ponies, unicorns and pegasuses. Going deeper into the show leads the viewer into a show that deals with themes of mental health struggles, loss of friends and family, how life can change unexpectedly and moving on from the past. It does this through a colorful cast of characters portrayed by an equally colorful array of actors in 18 episodes spread across two seasons.
Centaurworld centers around the story of Horse, an appropriately named war horse played by Kimiko Glenn, who is separated from her rider and finds herself lost in the borderline saccharine Centaurworld. In order to get home to her much grittier and wartorn world, Horse reluctantly accepts the help of Wammawink (Wicked‘s Megan Hilty) and the Herd, a charming cast of characters consisting of flamboyant zebrataur Zulius (Crazy Ex-Girlfriend‘s Parvesh Cheena), cynical finchtaur Ched (Silicon Valley‘s Chris Diamantopoulos), kleptomaniac gerenuktaur Glendale (show creator Megan Nicole Dong) and naïve giraffetaur Durpleton (How I Met Your Mother‘s Josh Radnor). The Herd and Horse go beyond the dome protecting their valley and discover a wonderful, whimsical world full of centaurs of varying shapes, sizes and species, which has more than a few secrets buried beneath its silly exterior.
Despite each of the characters seeming like familiar archetypes found in children’s media, each of them has a great amount of complexity and depth revealed through the show’s very tight writing. Viewers get answers for why Glendale has a portal in her stomach, what’s up with Durpleton’s mind and how Ched became so stubborn and cynical towards Horse built up gradually over the show’s run, and, much like Netflix’s other fantastic original The Mitchells vs. the Machines, it all pays off by the end of the show’s run. The writing knows when to pull certain punches and makes sure every character gets at least a few lines in by the episode’s end, even if they aren’t the central focus. It pulls the viewer through each moment of triumph, heartbreak and longing just as the characters do and does so in a way I very much appreciate. Certain episodes also deal with mental health in a very deep and introspective way to the point where they can provide genuine advice for people dealing with issues such as abandonment, anxiety, loss of a loved one and even self-doubt and identity crises. At its core, Centaurworld provides the viewer with a very deep and emotional journey through a twisted wonderland thanks to said writing.
The series’ very stylized animation was provided by Mercury Filmworks, a recurring studio for Netflix’s Originals; among their other works for the service are Kid Cosmic, a science fiction series from Powerpuff Girls creator Craig McCracken, and Hilda, an adventure series based on the graphic novels by Luke Pearson. Mercury Filmworks has had a great track record with Netflix animations before, and Centaurworld is no different. Every character is animated as vibrant as the vast, rich landscapes around them. From the depths of the moletaur jails to the sky-high home and social media-inspired birdtaurs above, Centaurworld‘s titular world shows off some outstanding locations that feel right out of a children’s storybook. Equally as impressive are scenes set in Horse’s home world. Whereas Centaurworld is full of life and wonder, the human world is devoid of it and evokes tones of war-torn settings and more serious fantasy media. The characters in the human world also have far more frames of animation, making them feel realistic and much better fitting to their setting. The contrasting animation styles make the two worlds seem so different and makes the show stronger as a result.
Centaurworld‘s greatest strength, however, is its music. Composed by longtime composer Toby Chu, the series usually has a new song sung by the characters every episode. These songs vary in quality but are helped greatly by the Broadway star-studded cast. Each song evokes a different emotion and strikes a chord with the greater themes at play throughout the series. These songs also often indicate a pivotal moment in the series and signify some sort of a change in the characters, especially in their relationships with one another. The recurring motifs of “Rider’s Lullaby” and “The Nowhere King” bring a sense of cohesion between the two worlds and the greater evil that brings them closer than first assumed. All of the songs perfectly fit the tone of the show and provide something to listen to on repeat well after the credits have rolled.
Centaurworld may seem like the strangest addition to Netflix’s animated library thus far, but in actuality it is one of the most solid additions yet. With great characters, great writing and phenomenal music overshadowing the few flaws it has, I wholeheartedly give Centaurworld a 10/10. What a phenomenally underrated show this is.
Both seasons of Centaurworld are currently available to stream exclusively on Netflix.
Photo credit / Netflix
