Having sat on the back burner for some time, I'm finally getting around to writing my review for Hazbin Hotel. Yes, it's only a pilot; there's enough awesomeness (and problematic bits) to write a review on. So let's do this!
Originally this review was written in 5/7/2021. I'm releasing it now (on 3/4/2025) after responding to some criticism of Vivsiepop's franchises, Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel; i.e., after reading it in a YouTube video I recorded tonight, responding to fan criticism about the show's demons. —Perse
The show is a "happy" Gothic fantasy that mergers civilized society's moral bankruptcy with its perennial curiosity with the taboo. To achieve this, the show falls back on some typical defaults, feeling aristocratically white while devoting itself to priviliged misbehavior.
What is "Happy Gothic"? In a nutshell, it's stories that are fun and joyous versus gloom and doom. There's something to celebrate, not mourn. Think the likes of Tim Burton advancing the modern perception of Gothic past its moodier former nadirs, and forward into the public sphere as a delightful nightclub of sugary death and friendlier ghosts. For a deeper look into the subject, I suggest reading Catherine's Spooner's book, Post-Millennial Gothic: Comedy, Romance and the Rise of Happy Gothic (2017). For only twenty quid, it's a comprehensive look at modern reinventions of dark nostalgia.
In Vivienne's Defense
The pilot devotes a special glee in offending everyone with the Haz-bin Hotel pilot. It is hell, after all. Nevertheless, despite its maker, Vivienne Medrano, being Salvadoran-American, the "offend everyone" approach is privileged—white. Maybe being born and raised in Maryland shaped Viv into who she is, including the stories she tells?
Before we criticize the show, I wish to defend Vivienne herself. She's been accused of racist and pedophilic content in the past, and I don't want readers to think my criticisms stem from that. While past cartoonists like Doctor Seuss and John Kricfalusi have respectively been outed as racist and pedophilic, Vivienne has openly disavowed blackface and her "cringy" artwork. This being said, her actual statements are hard to find.
Luckily a Twitter user has compiled them into a single tweet. Vivienne worked on a discontinued series called Zoophobia, which included a young couple. Here, the Twitter OP writes:
Regarding this couple, Vivienne herself wrote:
Vivienne herself states this art wasn't illegal; she was 19 herself when she drew it, and her fictional couple was 17 and 19 respectively. Under so-called "Romeo and Juliet" laws, which prohibit statutory rape under such circumstances, the artwork is legal. But like any teenage relationship explored on the cusp of adulthood, there are legal and social ramifications to consider post hoc.
Nevertheless, speculating on Vivienne's origins isn't the point; observing what the show provides is. Is Haz-bin racist and sexist; does it champion sexual abuse? No, and no (Helluva Boss season two does, but that's a different can of worms). If anything, the characters are in control of their bodies and identities. They might butt heads with other people, but the pilot never exploits its characters sexually. Pun unintended, the LGBTQ community has as much teeth as anyone else. This, I think, is good.
Gothically the show feels pretty standard to me, but largely to perform its main arguments. This is what I will examine next.
A Closer Look
On the surface, the fantasy in Haz-bin is fairly default—a caustic Gothic parody of the Disney princess who merely wants to help: the Mary Sue. Viv is clearly partial to the formula, but ridicules it through a past love for wicked children's cartoons (think the visuals from The Powerpuff Girls or Billy and Mandy married to the adult humor from Panty and Stocking and you've got the right idea).
A fantasy take on the myth of the useful billionaire, Charlie wants to privately build a hotel to elevate the wicked, reprobate masses. It's not exactly Batman. Instead, Haz-bin finds quieter ways to illustrate economic disparity—not through the symbols, which spell things out plain enough, but by withholding overt criticism. In doing so, the show tacitly endorses these positions as the standard to attack. The privileges remain despite Viv's jester-like displays.
The Joke
There's a reason for this; i.e., an acknowledgment that people are born different, and have well-intentioned but poorly executed ideas. Less like Miao Yin from Big Trouble in Little China, Charlie's more like Gracie Law—a nosy white girl who sleuths after "Asian flesh peddlers." Little China, and the traditions it brings to America, are something for Gracie to investigate. It's "her neighborhood!" Likewise, while Hell is Charlie's home, she's still the awkward, privileged girl who wants to help.
The fact that others laugh at Charlie is no secret. Haz-bin portrays her as a quixotic moron. The story revolves around her—her drama, her thoughts, and her feelings regarding other people. She wants to help, but can't understand why others reject her offers. This makes her feel like a failure, and alienated from her fellow demons. She wants to help them, but her child-like scheme is all she's got.
I feel like the show could highlight her privilege a bit more, but it feels less critical and more empathetic of the princess. Empathy is all good and well, but a lack of class criticism remains a facet the show could explore. Her critics laugh at her apathetically. But why are they apathetic apart from the fact that Hell is Hell? It simply is, essentialized.
The option—to make hell a playground and the princess a silly joke—is a deliberate choice of the writers (who Viv would completely replace for the 2024 show). It doesn't say much of substance, but does invite others to participate. Partake of the sugary sin and bombast, delivered in the sly veneer of a Saturday morning cartoon for adults. And this magnification is what the show brings into focus: past cartoons were always this sinful; Haz-bin just screams the quiet part.
This is where the show has its fun. To sin is the point, and the point is to offend everyone. Like a court jester, the joke is deliberately bad; Haz-bin simply invites everyone to join in. The potential issue is a lack of substance—of the show declaring that Hell cannot change. It is, and always will be, Hell. This is the princess' real battle, but also Viv's. One believes in the power of musicals; others believes that life is absurd, so smile at the gods while you're able.
The hotel wasn't Charlie's idea; it was Viv's. As someone with access to power and privilege, maybe they can make a difference. But do either of them actually help anyone, or are their solutions merely inviting disaster?
The Aim
Viv highlights how most in Hell has little real power. Instead, their autonomy comes from owning who they are. Angel Dust doesn't accept his fate; he weilds it like a beautiful weapon. There's a gross pride to how low he'll stoop, but he never feels sorry for himself. This might be the keys for emotional self-fulfillment; I still think it's terrible advice outside of a cartoon world that has zero consequences.
To its credit, Hazbin is hardly myopic. Its loudspeaker approach allows the underprivileged to say more than they might otherwise, including the LGBTQ community. I feel like their hellish personas rebelliously celebrate against earthly biases. Angel Dust personifies the age-old homophobic trope of a sexual, depraved maniac; he just doesn't let it spoil his fun. And because the mind is its own place, he can have fun; he isn't what others see him as, because its all just fantasy—Viv's, to be precise.
With its unfiltered and unfettered approach to mischief, Haz-bin demonstrates what might people say or do when freed from consequence, or the constraints of good manners. Hell becomes a safe space to have fun, including those who would have been denied such luxuries on the terrestrial plane. Excessive, wanton luxury is point. It's also what the princess doesn't seem to get; she's denying Angel Dust his chance to have fun. "The princess wants to pull us outta the gutter?" Angel Dust cries. "Fuck that; let's get wasted and shoot a bunch of people!"
The violence is deliberately cartoonish and fun-spirited; the hedonism is sex-positive without fears of sexual abuse or drug addiction. That's how I know this is a fantasy—a trip to a place that burns without consequence. Darkness visible is the paradox of any Gothic Romance, but especially middle-class ones: a place to let one's hair down and indulge in darker fantasies. To this, Haz-bin feels begot from privilege, the kind of vehicle written by a lord or lady (albeit someone like Charlotte Dacre when ribbing Matthew Lewis).
With its furries (read: teratophilia) and chimeric demon sex, Haz-bin invites the audience to go to the dark gods and fuck. It almost seems to confirm that anyone, under the right conditions, might arrive at Viv's conclusion. This is definitely a civilized problem: the option to indulge in what's improper, an inversion of good manners purely for the sake of it. Indeed, those in Hell are expected to misbehave. This further cements the show as entertainment, an invitation to be wicked.
The Romance and Its Limits
If I was going to criticize the show, it'd be for focusing on the princess at all, and not criticizing the institution to which she belongs (a nepo baby). Instead, Hell isn't going anywhere, and serves as an extension of the power imbalances typically seen on Earth. I don't think Viv is opportunistic or exploitative, here (elsewhere, she definitely is*); I think she use cartoons as a form of escape, wherein people's fates are fixed regardless of who they are. She clearly endorses freedom of expression without compromising the rights of others; I still think think her pilot* is an outlet—a way to escape life's woes that simply isn't practical (for most people) outside of cartoons.
*Made with the help of many talented people she fucked over (see: Autistic Swag's "Vivziepop is a Bad Person - Part 1," 2024).
Haz-bin paints in broad strokes, attacking anyone and everyone at equal volume except the establishment itself. Like I said, the princess has little power herself. She doesn't own Hell; her parents do (which she will inherit, to be fair). This part of Hell is essential and will not change. Take it from Alastor, who cries, "the stage is the world; and the world is a stage for entertainment!"
At times, Haz-bin doesn't seem to have much else to say. Viv's love for the campy demonic past—and its dark revival in the present—is blanketed by genuine dee-light. In response, I could choose to rattle off the Romance's nuts-and-bolts:
- white princess (assimilation fantasy)
- token side characters who look after princess (written servants, provided by the show makers)
- fascination with serial killers
- overindulgence in the profane
The Performance
"Pure. Utter. Boredom!"
***
Persephone van der Waard is the author of the multi-volume, non-profit book series, Sex Positivity—its art director, sole invigilator, illustrator and primary editor (the other co-writer/co-editor being Bay Ryan). Persephone has her independent PhD in Gothic poetics and ludo-Gothic BDSM (focusing on partially on Metroidvania), and is a MtF trans woman, anti-fascist, atheist/Satanist, poly/pan kinkster, erotic artist/pornographer and anarcho-Communist with two partners. Including multiple playmates/friends and collaborators, Persephone and her many muses work/play together on Sex Positivity and on her artwork at large as a sex-positive force. That being said, she still occasionally writes reviews, Gothic analyses, and interviews for fun on her old blog (and makes YouTube videos talking about politics). To learn more about Persephone's academic/activist work and larger portfolio, go to her About the Author page. To purchase illustrated or written material from Persephone (thus support the work she does), please refer to her commissions page for more information. Any money Persephone earns through commissions goes towards helping sex workers through the Sex Positivity project; i.e., by paying costs and funding shoots, therefore raising awareness. Likewise, Persephone accepts donations for the project, which you can send directly to her PayPal, Ko-Fi, Patreon or CashApp. Every bit helps!
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