Aside from the endless script of well-placed nihilism, sarcastic jokes, and flair for the dramatic, I POSIT HERE AND NOW that we love Rick Sanchez (of “Rick and Morty”) because he is a superhero. No matter how dire the situation or how apparently insurmountable the odds caused by his own shortcomings, Rick Sanchez always prevails. In actuality the apparent calamities that Rick and Morty encounter have no real stakes. Rick doesn’t have the infinite strength and ability of Superman, but they similarly have no real chance of failure or equal match.
Not only is Rick able to overcome any odds, he does so with a method that any of us can relate to. While usually drunk and hopelessly depressed, the hyper-clever inventor uses only his ideas and intelligence to create gadgets and diabolical plans to outsmart and defeat his unfathomably imposing enemies. Never could we train our bodies to leap tall buildings in a single bound; but, having watched Sanchez masterfully navigate his way through danger, we’re left with the ultimate relatable idea in our subconscious: “I could do that too.”
In an episode that is a memorable favorite for many of us (S3:E3 “Pickle Rick”), the depraved Sanchez turns himself into a pickle for the purpose of avoiding family therapy. After rolling into a sewer, commandeering a rat’s body with his brain, and creating some traps and weapons out of household items, Rick is able to take over some kind of heavily armed installation and return to superhero form. Again the story imparts not only that most relatable theme, but it also gives us an example that, even as a barely functioning pickle object, you can go from whatever your current misery to a superhero in a day.
If Sanchez showed us only that we could defeat alien monsters while keeping an elite level of sardonic wit, that would be inspiration enough; but he does all this while growing further beloved by his family. Despite a seemingly egocentric air of dismissal toward the family who houses him and yearns for his approval, after every perilous adventure his daughter, Beth’s, family legitimately grows closer to him. Each in turn, his grandchildren, Morty and Summer, his daughter, and his son-in-law, Jerry develop a renewed vigor for life and love for Rick, after his derisive-comment-laden journeys. We, as viewers, vicariously learn that, despite our shortcomings and facades, we too can connect with our loved ones.
The most comforting of all Sanchez’s discoveries, and the key to believing any potential is real, is that infinite parallel universes exist. Through the method of his portal gun (which accesses these parallel universes), he proves that “possibility” exists. We are not just a singular chain of events causing each other in an order determined by the first event of the universe. In many episodes Rick defeats and outsmarts other “versions” of himself from these parallel universes. Objectively, our (main character) Rick is better than these other versions of himself by virtue of his own choices. The events teach us a lesson that not just “there, but for the grace of God, go I,” but “there, but by the choice of me, go I.” Not only is Rick better than these other versions by virtue of his choices, but when he says “I’m the most Rick out of all of you!” he implies that the route to this superhero greatness isn’t an unraveling of the universe but merely an exercise in self-discovery and true dedication to that effect.
Rich Sanchez shows us the way to be a beloved, real superhero is to be as true to yourself as possible. I ask you “What could be more inspiring and relatable to us lazy, nihilist humans who still watch cartoons?!” That’s why we love Rick Sanchez. If only we thought cleverly enough, we could be he.
(And if you find the show ridiculous, suspend some freakin’ disbelief and just enjoy it for Rick’s sake.)
