closes the season on a high note. The dance sequence is animated like a cross between Saturday Night Fever and a horror movie. Chris, determined to ask Tasha (voiced by Keke Palmer), must first survive a montage of Greg’s terrible dance lessons. The final scene, where Chris is left standing alone as the disco ball lights swirl around him, is both hilarious and heartbreaking—the perfect distillation of the show’s tone. What the Animation Adds (and What It Loses) The shift to animation is largely a victory. It solves the original show’s biggest limitation: budget. In 2005, a scene of Chris imagining himself as a Jedi was a quick, low-fi gag. In 2024, that same joke becomes a fully animated Star Wars homage with lightsabers, TIE fighters, and a Darth Vader voiced by Laurence Fishburne (a hilarious guest spot).
The true MVP, however, is the narration. Chris Rock himself returns as the narrator—the adult Chris looking back on his childhood. His voice has aged, gained a gravelly wisdom, but his timing is as sharp as ever. The animated format allows the show to cut directly from a teenage Chris getting punched in the face to a cutaway of adult Chris in a recording booth, wincing and saying, “See? Told you. Still hurts.” These meta-moments are where Everybody Still Hates Chris truly finds its footing. Season 1 consists of ten episodes, each tackling a familiar but refreshed theme: school integration woes, family finances, first crushes, and the ever-present threat of the neighborhood bully, Caruso (a scene-stealing Kevin Michael Richardson). Everybody Still Hates Chris - Season 1
is a Julius-centric masterpiece. When the family fridge dies, Julius declares it a “luxury appliance” and tries to build a cooling system using a window AC unit, duct tape, and a styrofoam cooler. The animation stretches into absurdist territory, showing Julius’s plan as a Rube Goldberg machine of disaster. It culminates in the kitchen flooding with soapy water, while Rochelle stands silently with her arms crossed—a pose that Tichina Arnold’s animation team has rendered with terrifying, divine precision. closes the season on a high note
Does everybody still hate Chris? Yes. Absolutely. But after this spectacular first season, audiences are going to love watching him suffer. The final scene, where Chris is left standing
What does it lose? A little bit of the raw, human pathos. Live-action allowed you to see the real tears in Tyler James Williams’s eyes. Animation, even when expressive, creates a layer of abstraction. A cartoon character getting humiliated is funny; a real kid getting humiliated is sometimes painful. The original walked that line perfectly. The new show leans slightly more toward the “funny” side, which makes it a more consistent comedy but slightly less emotionally devastating. One of the smartest decisions in Everybody Still Hates Chris is how it handles race and class. The original show was unflinching in its depiction of microaggressions and systemic poverty. The new show doesn’t soften those edges; it just finds new ways to present them.
is a standout. The animation shines as Chris navigates a new, slightly more integrated school. The hallways are drawn as a chaotic jungle, with lockers as territorial watering holes. When Caruso shoves Chris into a trash can, the show does a slow-motion, dramatic recreation of a war movie death scene, complete with sad violin music and Chris’s voiceover: “Every time I died in school, I got resurrected just in time for third period.”