A “Community” Pre-Hiatus Wrap-Up

I hate to type the words “Community” and “hiatus” in the same sentence, but unfortunately, this show – this brilliant, funny, weird show – is going on hiatus for an indefinite period of time, because NBC hates me and wants to ruin my life.

Anyway, I haven’t written reviews of individual episodes since the Halloween one, and I figured now was a good time to talk about the last few pre-hiatus installments of Community and what they meant to me.

3.06 “Advanced Gay” – This episode included a fair amount of gay stereotypes that I didn’t find so much offensive and hurtful as lazy writing. Fortunately, Dan Harmon apologized for it and didn’t rely on a half-assed “but I have gay friends!” non-apology.

Aside from that issue, I have to say that this episode showed, in a nutshell, why Britta is the worst best. She’s someone who truly cares about her friends and is completely right when she notices the Oedipal complex manifesting in their interactions, but she mispronounces it as “Edible” and doesn’t know what Oedipus did to his mother because she didn’t finish reading the chapter. That’s Britta: insightful, caring, pushy, and lazy.

I also love that the show actually went as far as to have Jeff’s words kill Pierce’s dad. I was expecting a heart attack that would end up with Pierce’s dad in a hospital bed next to Pierce and a heartfelt conversation that would repair any wounds between them. I should have known that the show was better than that. Pierce’s relief at his father’s passing, as opposed to his denial and grief when he lost his mother, was an interesting, dark contrast.

3.07 “Studies in Modern Movement” – I love Troy and Abed’s friendship. I love how, unlike many “bromances” presented in fiction that seem intent on guys being as obnoxiously macho as possible, their dynamic is sweet and innocent. But most of all, I love that they encourage and welcome Annie moving in with them. They don’t see it as a girl mucking up their perfect bromance with her girly presence; they see it as adding another person to play with. And when she makes a legitimate request to have a room that isn’t a blanket fort, they only pout for a little while before giving her their room and moving into the blanket fort themselves.

Another thing that struck me the second time I watched this episode was the fact that Jeff ditched on helping with the move not because he’s lazy and a bad friend, but because – as he said to his therapist (!) – he needed to be alone that weekend. What is going on with Jeff this season?

3.08 “Documentary Filmmaking Redux” – Finally, a showcase for our favorite pansexual Dean Pelton. I’m so glad that Jim Rash was made a series regular and I thought he did a wonderful job here. But my favorite non-Dean moments were Jeff’s admission that he had made bald friends, and the Troy/Britta hug-and-recoil.

I was also genuinely moved by Abed taking pity on the Dean and breaking from his role as the objective observer, and Jeff hugging the Dean.

3.09 “Foosball and Nocturnal Vigilantism” – Not many people liked the Troy/Annie/Abed subplot of the episode, but I enjoyed watching Troy take on the rare role as the most mature and logical one of the group (who no one listened to, of course). Sometimes I think Troy is just the most adorable character on television – believing that the animal hospital had animal doctors, “locking” his blanket fort with a key, and, “Wait a minute…Rick doesn’t have a wife. [angrier, more suspicious] Or women’s feet!”

Still, the real showcase of the episode was the Jeff/Shirley foosball war. I loved everything about it – the Germans, the schadenfreude & Donkey Kong jokes, the anime battle with the random cat appearance. I loved that all of the jokes from previous episodes about Shirley and Jeff being the same age (with Shirley being indignant that people think she’s old) were leading up to a revelation that they knew each other as children, and that Shirley’s bullying was a catalyst for many of Jeff’s insecurities.

3.10 “Regional Holiday Music” – I have very little deep commentary about this episode. It was just hilarious, a brilliant send-up of Glee, and any show that can have an Invasion of the Body Snatchers parody within a Glee parody within a Christmas episode will always have a place in my heart. Abed summed it up best when he said, “Maybe forcing things to be bright just makes the darkness underneath even darker.” It’s the best, most succinct description of just how toxically mean-spirited Glee has become while still proclaiming to be a show about love and acceptance.

Greendale is truly more accepting and kind than the McKinley High glee club has been for years. “Greendale is an all-inclusive school. Why don’t we let Britta sing her awkward song?” Britta’s part of their family. They’re allowed to make fun of her, but outsiders are not allowed to tell her she’s the worst.

I’ve also been watching Parks and Recreation since the show follows Community. As I mentioned in an earlier post, Parks and Recreation is a show that I appreciate more than I personally enjoy, that I’m glad exists because of its explicitly feminist main character and her mutually supportive relationship with her best female friend, but doesn’t particularly make me laugh. It’s a show that I’m happy other people enjoy that I only occasionally find funny.

As I’ve watched a few season four episodes, the show started growing on me a little more. I do find most of the characters engaging and likable if not laugh-out-loud funny (except for the always adorable Andy Dwyer and the libertarian government employee Ron Swanson), and even Tom and April have their moments (“Treat yo self!” “It’s the Black-Eyed Peas, and I finally killed them. It’s a Christmas miracle.”) I understand the appeal of watching a show where you just want to spend time with these people every week.

But watching Parks and Recreation following Community just highlighted the difference between a show that makes me say “aww, that’s nice” and a show that will leave me howling with laughter one minute and getting tear-eyed over a sweet moment only minutes later.

Parks and Recreation is a show about nice people who lead nice lives and are pretty nice to each other. That’s nice. Community is a show about deeply messed-up people who are not always nice to each other, but who are rarely mean out of malice and spite – they’re sometimes mean because they’re deeply insecure and traumatized and lonely. But even though they lash out at each other, they love and support each other, too.

This is why, though I understand why others find him off-putting, I’ll always have a soft spot for Jeff Winger. Underneath the Blackberry-toting, obnoxiously self-confident, douchebag persona, is still the fatherless little boy who never felt like he was good at sports, who enjoyed dressing as a little Indian girl for Halloween but then felt ashamed for enjoying it, who peed his pants in front of everyone.

I love this show because it explores the characters’ deep psychological issues, and finds the humor in those moments without laughing at the characters. We laugh at Joel McHale’s horrified expression when adult Jeff realizes Shirley was his childhood tormenter, but when we flash back to little Jeff crying and peeing his pants in front of a room of bullies, we just want to give the poor kid a hug.

Community gets a lot of credit for its snappy dialogue, its brilliant background moments worthy of The Simpsons, its incredible cast, its exploration of genre, and its commitment to silliness and absurdity. But I don’t think the show gets nearly enough credit for the obvious love and empathy the writers have for their characters.

I think that’s why I appreciate Parks and Recreation more than I love it, and why I love Community so much more. A show with nice people being nice to each other is nice. A show with deeply messed-up (but mostly not vicious) people who aren’t used to having real friends, who are still finding their way around being the family they’ve always wanted, is so ripe for comedy and dramatic moments.

This is why Ben and Leslie declaring their love for each other via court stenographer was sweet without being saccharine, and was a clever way of getting around the typical “love declaration” trope, and made me smile, but little Jeff and little Shirley walking arm-in-arm, putting their painful history behind them and forgiving each other, made me cry.