Proudly weird, refreshingly laidback and utterly unconcerned with what you think of it, Lazor Wulf is an animation that virtually defies classification and critique.
Lazor Wulf is the kind of show that would perhaps be better enjoyed and understood if you were really, really high, but it’s also the kind of show that makes you feel high just from watching it, so what can you do? The new Adult Swim animation is a laidback oddity that virtually defies classification or critique. I have no idea what most of it means, what it’s trying to be about or say, or even what the some of the strange characters even are. The critical cop-out “it won’t be for everyone” has never been more applicable to anything, in the history of media.
Set in the wacky community of Strongburg, where anthropomorphized animals rub shoulders with God himself and debate the quality of milkshakes and who-knows-what-else, the whole place seems occupied only by outlandish creatures who make the titular Lazor Wulf seem unimaginative by comparison. The obvious discrepancy between the characters’ outlandish designs and chilled-out, contemplative attitudes is where most of the humor comes from. The rest is to be found in the simple elasticity of a universe that seems made up on the fly, ready to accommodate whatever bizarre idea the show’s creator, Henry Bonsu, comes up with next.
There’s little going on in the way of plot. Lazor Wulf doesn’t care, though. It’s a hang-out comedy that uses whatever low-stakes problems it can to encourage its misfit cast to ruminate on various topics and gently rib each other. It’s unique and stylized enough that each 11-minute episode can’t possibly be boring, as there’s always so much weirdness to take in that you haven’t even finished cataloging it all before the end. Whether or not there’s actually any deeper meaning beneath it all remains to be seen, and is probably beside the point anyway.
Is there a ceiling to the weirdness of Lazor Wulf? I have my doubts. The only limit to it is time, I guess, and how far it’s willing to go before alienating everyone but the most stoned of viewers. It’s all so simplistic and easygoing, from its dialogue to its plotting to its animation, that you can imagine it going virtually anywhere, doing virtually anything. Do I like it? I have no idea. But I certainly don’t hate it, if for no better reason than it’s impossible to hate something so proudly unconcerned with what anyone thinks of it.