We’ve been through a few seasons of The Good Place with our favorite gang of scumbags, but none are more relatable than Chidi Anagonye. Chidi is the one whose stomach never stops hurting. Chidi never stops being vexed. Vexed, Eleanor! But nothing — I mean, nothing — sees into my soul more than the moment William Jackson Harper lets a strangled ‘What?!’ pass through his lips.
Sure, Eleanor’s got “ya basic” and Jason’s great at, uh, not being great, Janet’s got her ding, and Michael… well, he’s a demon, and who among us can’t see ourselves in that?
But Chidi… Chidi’s nigh-constant state of anxiety, his perpetual default setting of I-am-uncomfortable-and-I-am-stressed? That’s an entire generation of us being truly represented on screen in that man.
Chosen for his inability to make a decision and the indirect harm he causes, Chidi ends up in The-Good-Place-but-really-The-Bad-Place. Again, I’m with you. Oh, do I need to make a decision about something? What if I just wait long enough and the choice just sort of happens for me?
We’ve all been there.
So here’s to Chidi, a one-man band of horrified inquisition. Bless you, sir.