For five years, Community has been the oddball sitcom about Greendale Community College and the many residents within its corridors. With episodes named akin to descriptions in course catalog, the stories of Jeff Winger (Joel McHale) and his eccentric, ethnically (and aging) diversity, it was the comedy show that was sandwiched between more traditional programs like the veteran 30 Rock and Parks and Recreation, which premiered a year before. What wasn't know at the start of season one was just how important the show would become. Even with the traditionalist parody of guy-gets-girl that dominated the first season, was TV ready for a show that mixed in stop motion animation, paintball, and some crazy Halloween episodes? I think not.
A lot of the charm is thanks to the cast, which individually fit into a different stereotype. Even then, they were fleshed out characters who on weekly bases had their own chance at character growth. Yes, maybe Pierce (Chevy Chase) was racist and homophobic, but there was more to his stubbornness. Britta (Gillian Jacobs) may have been too much of a spoilsport rebel and Troy (Donald Glover) and Abed (Danny Pudi) were in their own literal TV show half of the time. The cast only gets more complex from there and soon the diversity forces the show to give each and every character their own episode.
This is the charm of Dan Harmon, who was having his big break at NBC with this series. By doing parodies of Hearts of Darkness (not Apocalypse Now) and G.I. Joe, he challenged TV viewers to like him. In fact, it lead to some disputes that caused the eventual tumbling blocks to the series. At the end of season three, Harmon left the show after disputes, leaving season four to be one of the most reviled patch of episodes in 2013. On the bright side, it allowed him to get his juices back to not only make the wonderful podcast Harmontown, but also create Rick and Morty and get his Community mojo back. However, by that point the expectations were waning and Donald Glover wasn't too far away from going full time with his rap career as Childish Gambino. To say the least, Glover's (and Chevy Chase's) absence in season five hurt the show as it tried to figure out what exactly it wanted to do. In the end, it did what it did best: pander to a niche audience that adored their obscure pop culture references and ability to turn "special" episodes into straight-up parodies of popular trademarks. Even then, Abed without Troy was too depressing and too meta for the show's benefit.
But for three seasons, ending with a double-header that included the surprisingly emotional episode done via an 8-bit video game, the series had reached its peak of nerdiness and accessibility. Yes, it was strange, but it reflected what the series was doing well. Save for maybe Futurama, few programs dared to push boundaries this way during prime time in the past decade. It was a surreal playground that chose to deconstruct how humans connect by refiguring the mechanics to reflect core emotion in pop culture. It was audacious and even began to make the realism complex with shout-outs to timelines and the fake realms that its characters inhabited. It was unique and maybe ahead of its time. Much like Futurama, it is probably best watched with a rolodex of references to fully understand, but on the base level, it worked because the characters worked.
The peak of creativity came in season two. After premiering with a strong Freshman season, it shot the doors off with one of the greatest Halloween episodes in "Epidemiology," which set a faux virus epidemic to Abba using costumes from Aliens. It was insane and the very idea that it was on network TV only made it seem ballsier. By the time that the stop motion "Abed's Uncontrollable Christmas" came around, we knew what to expect and still was surprised by what followed, including a fake bottle episode and a two parter paintball episode that explored the realms of Star Wars and spaghetti westerns. It may have been over the top at points, but it was undoubtedly fun.
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| Yvette Nichole Brown |
It was even a rewarding shows for those that cared to dive into the realm of its potential. Most episodes were sprinkled with background gags, including the infamous Beetlejuice cameo that came after three seasons of saying "Beetlejuice." It meant that repeat viewings enhanced the series, and it even expanded beyond the universe. Abed appeared on Cougar Town after gushing over the series. It created the fake Doctor Who called Inspector Spacetime. The incorporation was endless and by the end, it was a show built by a frustrated man who found solitude in resolving conflicts with a Pulp Fiction briefcase replica. Yes, for better or worse, the more that Harmon rebelled against the norm, the more inventive and fun the show got. Even in season three, after the series peaked in both darkness and pop culture integration, it never lost sight of the characters and kept the show risque.
The fact of the matter is that the series never recovered after season three. Many would like to believe that it did with season five, but that was a mess of a season. It definitely had a lot of great moments, but it felt like it existed solely to give it a proper farewell. In the closing episode "Basic Sandwich," the students of Greendale manage to avoid getting bought out only to celebrate that their school is a dump. It was a definitive statement about the series' influence on TV. Even if there was an audience for it (i.e. Greendale students), the corporations (NBC) didn't get it and never understood the appeal.
Much like the ingenious cue from Tracey Morgan in the 30 Rock finale about nobody watching, it feels applicable here. NBC has been a problematic network in general with a terrible line-up of shows that fell in Community's existence including Animal Practice, The Michael J. Fox Show, and Go On. All shows that had stronger chances at surviving than Community. Yet, the show that spent every waking hour being on the bubble made it further down the line. It made it through season four's problems to find the return of acceptance ins season five. Don't look at Community's departure as a bad call to its mantra "six seasons and a movie," but as defining proof that hardcore nerd shows (The Big Bang Theory is not "hardcore") can make it on network TV. Even its closest counterpoint in terms of cult status, Arrested Development, only lasted three years. This whole series is a miracle beyond the first two years after confusing almost everyone who had no idea what an episode based around Who's the Boss? trivia had doing on their tubes.
Yes, I argue that the first three seasons are about all the show will be remembered for. In that stretch, it created 71 of the greatest TV episodes of the past 10 years. Not all were cohesive, but that is no chump change. That's plenty to keep any fan busy. At that point, the series could have died and held the reputation as one of the best comedies in existence. With season four, the issue came into ending it on a warped (or "gas leak") season that nobody liked. At least with the returning Harmon, it could end with everyone at the helm. To summarize, season five was a compensation that was only justified in the meta context of the show's significance. Had the series gone an additional season, it would feel too much like pandering to the "six seasons and a movie" mantra. It was a joke line that lost the humor the more that it became a Twitter hash tag. I don't want to see another season. The series has fulfilled its purpose. And besides, if it returned, the gall of watching a hardcore nerd show on network TV is lost, especially if it goes to some place like Netflix.
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| Left to right: Donald Glover and Danny Pudi |
We should be grateful that there is a show with a lot of diversity, meta humor, and one of the best casts on TV. It may have ended a little sloppily, but it mirrored NBC's treatment of the show in a blatant way. It is unlikely that Harmon will ever make another thing that fires people up and gives him credit as much as Community. Its first three seasons was lightning in a bottle likely to be held up as how to do nerd comedy, especially with every network trying to find their equivalence. None have felt as pure. Even Harmon's Rick and Morty isn't as accessible to mainstream audiences. For those arguing for more, please stop. We have more than enough to keep us entertained for a lifetime. At 97 episodes and being on the bubble of cancellation for over half of those, be grateful that online culture had a chance to indulge in this wonderful, strange universe full of actors who are likely to go further than we could ever dream. Not bad for a series whose logo was an animated anus and lead by the host of The Soup (McHale).
Rating: 3.5 out of 5
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