When I think back to the early 2010s a series of cultural touchstones come to mind. Obama of course, the recession, Occupy Wall Street, the Vancouver and London Riots, the Twilight movies, Taylor Swift …and Community. Obviously one of these things is not the like the others, and doesn’t carry with it nearly as much cultural cache, but the cult NBC comedy that ran from 2009 to 2015 never fails to evoke for me that period of time that seems so long ago now and in another reality -where the world hadn’t lost its’ mind, we all had a kind of bright optimism in life, and references to the short-lived superhero series The Cape were perfectly relevant.
Of course it could just be it brings to mind my university years, which more or less coincided with the run of Community, and was when I first discovered and fell in love with the show. I mean it is a series that is set at and about a school -it’s not like it was difficult to relate to. But it wasn’t a show that really dwelt much on classes or grades or the kind of subject matter better reserved for a Disney/Nick tween sitcom than anything on a major network. The fact that Greendale Community College was a community college at times actually felt incidental. The show was much more about its characters, and its campus as a kind of home more than an educational institution. Because Community was about… community.
The show never went to any effort to hide this intentional double meaning of the title. Jeff Winger gives a speech in the very first episode essentially exemplifying Dan Harmons’ thesis for the show that ends with him declaring the newfound study group “a community.” They were a group of people from disparate backgrounds and life experiences brought together by chance (or engineered by Abed, whichever you prefer), and this was the first instance of them all getting past their differences and beginning to forge relationships with one another. And that would of course be the cornerstone of the series: these relationships and how they evolve and change, even as some drift away and others find new roles for themselves.
It’s an old theme of the form that Community is very acutely aware of, that is the sitcom cast as a family. It is a veritable cliche. The Mary Tyler Moore Show probably epitomized it first and numerous shows centering around groups of friends or co-workers have since replicated that close-knit bond between the core characters. And Community, while keenly aware of and at times sending up that very dynamic, is the best modern equivalent. Like everything else about the show and its’ pervading meta commentary, it manages to consciously point out the formulas and tropes inherent to its genre, while also doing them better than any sitcom since perhaps Cheers. Mostly through Abed, it lets us know what its doing in regards to bringing these characters together and cultivating an emotional attachment to their unit (sometimes incredibly directly), but never at the expense of the actual legitimacy of their community. The show affirms to us from the start the ubiquitous lovable sitcom family, tells us this is going to be a lovable sitcom family, and unironically follows through by developing the most lovable sitcom family of the twenty-first century.
Earlier this year, Community came to Netflix for the first time and became a major hit on the streaming service for a while. And as much as I’d prefer to believe that’s just because of how awesome a show it was and that the people who ignored it during its run had finally come to their senses, the reality is I think timing had a lot to do with it. If any other year had Community premiered on streaming, it would have garnered some interest and re-evaluation no doubt, but no more than any other show with a following, and only for a comparative blip of time -certainly not next to the likes of titans like Friends or The Office (neither of which I really get the massive enthusiasm for). However Community hit in the spring of 2020 at the start of a global pandemic, and it was the show we needed when it arrived.
For as much as the show is very nuanced and exceptionally intelligent, it is an incredibly simple premise to grasp, with very clearly defined characters who are at first almost archetypes -remarkably accessible for newcomers, but with a very particular offbeat sensibility that becomes apparent once you start watching. It looks and moves differently to other sitcoms, has a distinct energy. And at the same time its’ almost immediately familiar and comforting, the kind of show you can sink into and binge, content to exist vicariously in its’ world. It’s a welcoming show, evident by its very name; and its’ world, confined as it is to this school, that study room, and conveys that sense of routine comfort we look for in sitcoms as a distraction from the worlds’ ills, without the formula and complacency that characterizes so many of those ‘comfort food’ shows.
Where the pandemic is concerned though, and the self-isolation and social adjustment that goes along with it, Community provides dual forms of escapism that no other show can quite match. The first is that modesty of school and generally low-stakes plots and conflicts revolving around the characters. The series has a lot of these, especially in its first season, which might actually be the most relaxing season, given how comparatively normal it is next to what came after. There’s a real charm in that though, amplified I think by the budget of that first season, which allowed for a more fully rounded school environment. Episodes like “Introduction to Film”, “Advanced Criminal Law”, ‘Environmental Science”, “The Politics of Human Sexuality”, and “Beginner Pottery”, while not necessarily all-time classics of the show, are just delights to watch for their unexceptional premises and relative ordinariness. They settle you into a lovable groove. It’s the level of escapism that is a bit more usual, the kind that means spending time with these characters and in their everyday lives as they grow and mature. That is the mellowness we need right now, and Community I think does it better than most sitcoms, certainly of the last couple decades of Friends-chasing social comedies. Again, it’s that fixed location, that warm stasis that Community’s choice of setting and atmosphere provides.
But then there comes that second kind of escape that manifests towards the end of the first season and then routinely until the show ends whereby the world of the show becomes so much more unpredictable and flexible. The concept episodes are what Community was best known for during its’ day: the epic paintball show “Modern Warfare” became the template, and pretty soon it was doing riffs on Apollo 13, religious movies, zombie movies, Dungeons & Dragons, mockumentary sitcoms, clip shows, spaghetti westerns, Star Wars, and Rankin/Bass Christmas specials -and that was all just in season two. One of the very best of these sold itself as a rather uninteresting-looking Pulp Fiction set-up, but was actually a tender homage to My Dinner With Andre. Each of these were perceived as spoofs by non-viewers or occasional newcomers, but always were grounded in unique character or story beats of the show as a whole.
“Modern Warfare” was really about Jeff and Britta’s sexual tension, “Critical Film Studies” was about Jeff and Abed growing apart, “Regional Holiday Music” was about …well mostly just taking down Glee, but there was some heart there as well. These episodes are the ones that most explicitly separated Community from the pack, and now they’re the ones that give it this whole other mode of escape. Greendale may be a crap college, but escapades like these often make it look like the most fun, almost a wish fulfillment college experience for nerds. Community wasn’t the first show to contextualize paintball as a deadly serious game of survival (Spaced had it beat by eleven years), but it certainly was the coolest the game ever seemed to me (actual paintball is rarely that fun). The adventures or even just the styles of these concept episodes make the show that much more dynamic, especially on a binge-watch, where unlike most other sitcoms, you can’t guarantee the next episode won’t be wildly different from the last. It’s really exciting and gives this world you become immersed in a more fantastical edge while never straying into outright fantasy. This show allows you a recess into both comfort and exhilaration, without the two ever contradicting each other. And you really can’t get that from other pandemic distractions.
Another thing I find reassuring about watching Community right now is its commitment to the diversity of its characters. I think even Community fans take for granted from time to time how the show had a more even gender split in its main cast than other shows from its era, how racially diverse it was with five major POC characters across six seasons, and how it maintained a relative diversity in age as well, ranging from eighteen year old Annie at the start of the series to seventy-ish Pierce. Each character from early on additionally had a different background in terms of religion, wealth, politics, and life experiences -they were perhaps the most literal gang of misfits that term could be applied to. And if you count the Dean (who is confirmed to be LGBTQ), it remains probably the most representational sitcom I’ve ever seen. This too is awfully endearing, especially in a time of abject division. Seeing such a collection of characters getting along and working together, it demonstrates the importance of diversity organically and really nicely, reflecting a community as it should be.
And once again we come back to that term: “community”. Something so many of us have been missing this year. Digital hang-outs are great, but they can’t replace the real feeling of being with your friends, enjoying their company. Watching this show of course isn’t a substitute, but it does reaffirm the importance of community, and for me at least, has since I first discovered the series. And I needed that reminder again in 2020.
I began my rewatch back in early April. Back when everything looked the bleakest. The first season was a nice antidote, it was an open world, the cast were in their early days of gelling together, there was all the promise you’d expect for the start of a new phase in life –as this was for many of the characters. Chang was the Spanish teacher, Jeff and Britta were straight-laced, Troy was a jock, Pierce was actually kind of sympathetic, the Dean watched a video of a buff dude in a Dalmatian costume and said “this better not awaken anything in me” (we later realized it probably did). There was a parade of special guest star teachers including John Michael Higgins, Lee Majors, and Tony Hale (remember when Patton Oswalt was the school nurse?). Jeff had his fling with Professor Slater, Abed had his issues with his father, Annie had her crush on Troy, and Chang was just the perfect awful nemesis for the whole group. It was fun, easy viewing, very clearly the bright early days of a great show. Things were not so bright in reality, all the more wonderful that this show communicated that atmosphere.
I finished season one in fairly short order, before that month was out, and started season two, which is one of the most perfect seasons of any television show. “Epidemiology”, “Cooperative Calligraphy” (the tightest written episode), “Conspiracy Theories and Interior Designs”, “Mixology Certification” (the shows’ most heartwarming episode), “Abed’s Uncontrollable Christmas” (one of the all-time great Christmas specials), “Advanced Dungeons & Dragons”, “Intermediate Documentary Filmmaking”, the aforementioned “Critical Film Studies”, “Paradigms of Human Memory” (the most consistently funny episode) -the list goes on. What a pleasure that season was! Shirley had a baby with Chang, Pierce got repeated lessons in humility as he clashed with the group, Jeff’s daddy issues began to surface, and the chemistry between the study group really solidified. And each episode was exciting in some new way, whether it be a new format, style, narrative ambition or creative choice or character development. Still in the early days of the pandemic, the freshness of this season was really rejuvenating, a dose of spontaneity in a world providing little of it.
It was about the middle of May that I began season three, and of course early therein the structurally experimental “Remedial Chaos Theory”, the shows’ highest watermark. But if the show goes downhill from there, it at least does so very gradually -most of the season still being extremely good. From perhaps the best Halloween episode to the insane “Documentary Filmmaking: Redux” (the first great showcase for Jim Rash), the Ken Burns riffing “Pillows and Blankets”, to the surprisingly sweet “Origins of Vampire Mythology”, the goofy “Basic Lupine Urology” and “Curriculum Unavailable”, and the one episode that justifies the ‘Dreamatroium’, “Virtual Systems Analysis”. The show was in its groove here, able to withstand poor story choices like Chang taking over the school and Pierce’s whole family drama. This was also the season where Annie moved in with Troy and Abed, Shirley realized her sandwich shop, Abed got really into that Doctor Who parody, and Britta transitioned her major to psychology -becoming one of the shows’ funniest characters (and maybe my favourite) in the process.
I finished season three in the middle of summer, making the best as the show was of difficult circumstances. But I started season four, the infamous “gas leak” year in early July, right about the time 2020 experienced its own dramatic upheaval. Just as we were collectively exposed to the sheer depths of institutional racism and witnessed the violence of police brutality openly, it made sense to tackle this season amidst renewed strife.
For everything that’s been said about Community season four, by both fans and cast alike, the season is not wholly bad and has some bright spots (it retained a number of the shows’ best writers).”Intro to Felt Surrogacy” is one, “Herstory of Dance” is another. And there are moments in “Intro to Knots” and “Basic Human Anatomy” that are great. However Chang’s ludicrous story arc, the disappointing end to Jeff’s father issues, an underwhelming Troy-Britta relationship, Pierce being missing for a quarter of the season, and a whole episode devoted to the dumb Doctor Who parody really do dwarf those good points. Most of the episodes are just mediocre, but it starts and ends so badly (the finale being perhaps the worst episode of the series) that it does leave you feeling lousy. But just as I needed to be made uncomfortable by the prevalence of white supremacy and my own participation in it, so too is season four a necessary part of Community.
Without it, we might not have known just how important Dan Harmon is to the show and why at its’ best, it works the way it does. Season four allowed season five to happen, and by the time I got there, things in my life were looking optimistic again too. It was mid-August, COVID cases in my area were stabilizing, I was returning to work, and the end of the pandemic seemed thoroughly possible. Reflected in the show was a similar transition to a new normal, with Pierce gone, and after a few episodes, Troy as well. The season is remembered for these departures perhaps too much. I love “Cooperative Polygraphy” and “Geothermal Escapism”, the curtain calls for Pierce and Troy respectively, but the season also had an awesome Fincher homage with “Basic Intergluteal Numismatics”, a lovely character piece “Bondage and Beta Male Sexuality”, an animated mid-life crisis in “G.I. Jeff”, and even a solid sequel to “Advanced Dungeons & Dragons”. Jonathan Banks was a great addition to the cast, John Oliver got some of his best material, and Chang finally found some kind of purpose within the cast. An awkward season perhaps in places, but nicely familiar.
By the time I started season six at the start of October, conditions were starting to dip again. Cases were starting to climb and it began to look like we were headed back to where we were in April. But the silver lining of a vaccine has started to point to the end, and in that context the final season of Community felt like some kind of equilibrium had been struck: new but old, and with a promising future. Season six is indeed the best season of the show post-season three. It may have lost Shirley but it gained Frankie and Elroy, who fit the casts’ dynamic like a glove, and I really wish we could have gotten more of them. This season felt mature, like an aged wine, introspective but not above some of the old shenanigans -episodes like “Advanced Safety Features”, “Intro to Recycled Cinema”, and “Modern Espionage” proved this. “Ladders” might be my favourite season opener since the original pilot, “Lawnmower Maintenance and Postnatal Care” is one of the best Britta shows, “Basic Email Security” and “Wedding Videography” are great ensemble pieces, and “Queer Studies and Advanced Waxing” does a lot to make up for the show’s not-so-pristine record on LGBTQ topics. The season saw Jeff finally face his anxieties about his friends leaving him, it saw Britta redefined in a new light, Chang a fully functioning member of the group, and Abed and Annie really growing up.
At the end of that seven month journey, I felt Community more meaningfully than perhaps in the past, more attached to it. The characters each connected with me individually, and as a unit resonated all the more, even as it broke up and reformed over the course of the show. It wasn’t a show necessarily about this particular group of people, but of their bond, their community. And it made me long for that more than just about any other ensemble show, as much as I love the forged families of Cheers, M*A*S*H, Mary Tyler Moore, etc. And I don’t know if I would have noticed had it not been for the simultaneous new distance yet closeness that developed within my own friend circle as a result of this pandemic. Witnessing that while watching the show helped me understand the importance of maintaining community, and with that particular self-awareness that no other sitcom has, the earnestness of its virtues felt uniquely genuine. Jeff Winger gave a lot of speeches over those six seasons, but his final one to the gang, though rather short, is the most important: “I love that I got to be with you guys. You saved my life and changed it forever. Thank you”. To Community, I express the same sympathies.
The interstitial theme music track of the show during its' early seasons was called "Greendale is Where I Belong"; it's a beautiful little melody by the future Oscar and Grammy-winning composer Ludwig Göransson, and honestly what better affirmation of the shows' quality can there be that at the end of six seasons that statement rings unequivocally true. I will gladly enroll again.
#AndAMovie
Support me on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/JordanBosch
Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/Jordan_D_Bosch
Letterboxd: https://letterboxd.com/jbosch/
Comments
Post a Comment