Regardless of what the mouth-breathing “knobs” that comprise the Rick and Morty’s internet fanbase may think while idolizing reckless masculinity to the point of self-parody, Rick Sanchez has pretty much lived long enough to see himself become the villain. And the so-called smartest mammal in the galaxy knows it, but won’t do a thing about it. That’s because Rick—an undisputed scientific genius with an inarguable knack improvisation of both the verbal and physical sorts—actually isn’t all that smart. In fact, he’s kind of a fucking idiot.
It all boils back to Howard Gardner’s theory of multiple intelligences, which posits that those who exhibit skill in, and understanding of, one ability central to human existence—mathematics, for instance—don’t necessarily have an equal amount of skill or understanding when it comes to another, like, say, ethics. The theory has plenty of critics in the psychology field, and should certainly be taken with a few grains of salt in the real world. But in fiction, like some of the wonkier theories posited by Sigmund Freud or Carl Jung, it has rich storytelling potential in terms of character development.
It certainly does here, where it bolsters what could possibly be the series’ endgame takeaway and its big reveal: Morty’s smart, and Rick’s not.
Rick’s natural logical-mathematical and verbal-linguistic intelligences are preternaturally higher than Morty’s by leaps and bounds. There’s no dispute there. But Morty, while less naturally capable than Rick in these departments, is able to learn the ins and outs of both. In spite of his nature as a bumblingly horny teenager, he’s shown the ability to pick up on numerous alien cultures and customs, learn the uses of a number of Rick’s hi-tech creations and inventions, and generally survive all the insane situations Rick haphazardly shoves him into.
Meanwhile, in the interpersonal and intrapersonal departments — sensitivity to those around them and self-reflective capacities — Morty is miles ahead of Rick, and Rick never learns. He never wants to learn. He’s convinced himself he’s too smart to learn them—thus building himself a lower ceiling for his own capacity as a person than he could, should he be less stubborn and more open to self-reflection, emotional awareness, and change.
Rick’s almost supernatural facility with applying his intellect to scientific purposes amounts to nothing—and he, a nihilist, knows it, but continues to tell himself it’s better than any other option. But it’s not, since it consistently wreaks destruction and mayhem on himself everyone around him. Yet he dismisses others out of hand—Morty—and insults their alternative perspectives—“Pickle Rick” therapist Dr. Wong—because he’s too busy patting himself on the back to learn. And, all the while, he hurts his family over and over.
Disaffectedness may be the norm in everyone’s favorite animated sci-fi show, broh, but it’s not an ideal to aspire to — the show makes it clear that Rick’s failure to even consider happiness a worthy pursuit is a mark upon his character and his ability to be a father, a grandfather, and a friend. Rick’s failure to see the value in other types of intelligence makes him stupider than Morty, who knows, as Socrates knew, that he always needs to learn more.
Just because you’re smart doesn’t mean you’re happy, and if you prioritize intelligence over happiness and any cost…you’re not actually that smart! Get it, Rick? You dumb fucking idiot.
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