The Failures of Pam Beasley

There is nothing as sad as Pam Beasley (unless you count writers who write about fictional characters). 

We were introduced to Pam nearly 8 years ago - the drab, every woman. Her romance with Jim was what drove The Office for the first 4 seasons. We had to have someone to root for and rooting for Michael and anyone would be like rooting for a kid to finally stop squeezing that toy Elmo so hard. 

Many Office fans suggest that they gave up on the show after Pam and Jim got together, citing a lack of driving force, when in reality The Office just stopped doing comedy after the Jim/Dwight cold open every week. People giving up after Jim and Pam seal the deal indicates that people actually care about these characters. This is understandable when it comes to Jim, he is the conscience of the show, the WTF? is happening when everything around him is literally falling apart. He also has this. 

With Pam Beasley-Halpert this reasoning is shady at best. Why do we like this character? No real human man would want to date Pam. Let us list the failures of Pam Beasley. 

1. Superiority Complex

While she was introduced as an every woman type character, she has increasingly become more self assured."Character development," you scream, inaccurately! She also seemed to have a nervous tick, and never wanted to cause trouble (including inviting awful people to her own wedding), until she started dating Jim and making Dwight piss in elevators. But where did she get the gaul to make up a job that didn't exist and lie about it for the next 3 seasons? Pam comes off as cold in the first few seasons, stuck in an awful relationship and refusing to do anything about it. There was nothing except for marriage that changed for her, but now, she sits on her throne, eye rolling her hours away next to her husband. 

2. Ambition

The superiority complex seems even stranger when you realize that she has failed at maybe everything she has ever done. In season 1 she notes "It's not every girl's dream to grow up and be a receptionist," a wildly accurate statement, that makes you feel for her. She had ambition at one point, she wanted to be an artist, but then she failed out of art school because "she didn't like flash," which is now nearly irrelevant. YOU DIDN'T NEED TO LEARN FLASH.  Pam leaves for love, but isn't this the exact advice we steer our friends away from? Don't quit your dream for a guy Pam! Why are we still rooting for this woman, and why do people claim the show gets worse after Pam gets happy? That means we too are happy for this pathetic character. 

She returns to Dunder Mifflin as receptionist, grows some balls to leave the company a season later and becomes an awful salesperson at the Michael Scott Paper company. She returns to Dunder Mifflin as an awful salesperson (at least she's consistent) and then makes up the Office Manager job as a weirdly written coup. 

Pam had a dream, gave up on it after things got rough, and has now resigned herself to lying her way through a dying company. She's definitely someone you bring home to mom!

3. Looks

Listen, I'm not going to harp on her looks that much, Jenna Fischer is attractive enough, but Pam was intentionally underdone in the first few seasons, before suddenly getting more beautiful and then getting pregnant and staying that way after the baby came out (I might pay for this line later in life). I'm just gonna say she is not hot enough to overlook every other negative attribute. 

4. Intangibles

If you were a guy looking to date Pam you do a quick recap. Is she nice? Not really, she's either a pushover that hates her job or someone who does not have patience for your shortcomings (Michael Scott, the guy at the Daycare center, EVERYONE). Is she pretty? Sort of, if she was really smart and kind and funny, sure you could lock it in. Is she smart? You probably have to answer no to this. She couldn't finish art school, her resume reads:

RECEPTIONIST - DUNDER MIFFLIN - 2001- INFINITY 

and basically stops there. Is she funny? She's thinks she is funny, that counts for something, I guess...


What this comes down to is Pam has never succeeded at anything, but still thinks she is better than everyone. Not only does she not do well at art school, sales or possibly reception (sometimes she lets it go to voicemail), but she quits all of those things, presumably because she doesn't have the will to overcome ineptitude. So here she is, resigned to a life at a paper company in a paperless world, based out of Scranton, PA, maybe the saddest place outside of the state of Florida. There is nothing as sad as this girl.

So How Long Have You Needed a Crazy Amount of Help?

Well, everyone, Dan Harmon is perfectly aware of what everyone’s been saying, and the average community college student goes to school for an average of 5-7 years and many schools offer four-year degrees, thank you very much. While you’re questioning his majestic vision, he’s going to take digs at Shutter Island, Robin Williams, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, Minority Report, Antiques Roadshow, and worst person in Hollywood Brett Ratner. Never mind how much these are funny and deserved. It seems like Harmon is really feeling backed into a corner, and he's being nasty (hilariously nasty).

And why shouldn’t he? NBC doesn’t care about his show, and he has to continually fight for its life. His contract might not even get renewed next year. How petulant that will make the tone of the show is limitless.

But who cares about the future? This episode was incredible! It was basically “Paradigms of Human Memory”: Redux, but it furthered the overall plot. The group, so shell-shocked and self-pitying after their expulsion, came to terms with how progressively more crazy they’re getting: Abed films Annie when she’s asleep (but not sexually), Britta takes Peyote, Troy spends all of his money on an ATV and then drives it into the school, and Jeff mistakes a dead battery (why does he have that?) for a pack of Lifesavers. They then refocus when they realize that Chang has kidnapped the dean, which is perhaps the best part of the episode. Dean Pelton, who was settling into a comfortable role doing 30-second bits every episode, has finally gained the group’s respect and love (maybe). They even used his name a few times! Amazing.

The subtle genius of doing a clip show of things that never happened has been mentioned before. It shows Harmon and crew’s ambition and talent. Think about it: these are ideas they threw away. A noir paintball episode would’ve been cool, but after previously parodying action thrillers, westerns, and Star Wars, did we need a full noir episode? No. Not even if Abed imagined everything in black and white, which would’ve been cool, but contrived. Britta’s unhinged peyote trip didn’t need any more than five seconds. We didn’t need to see Greendale on fire, just the dean warning the study group first. It’s part of how much Harmon, for all his well-documented dickishness, respects his audience. What other TV show has ever employed the Iceberg Principle better? Hell, it wasn’t that long ago that every TV show actually told you when to laugh. Now, only shows that don’t want to get canceled do that.

Community continued its run of perfect guest stars (Patton Oswalt, Rob Corddry Anthony Michael Hall, LeVar Burton, Jack Black, John Oliver, Theo from The Cosby Show, Sawyer from Lost…) with John Hodgman basically doing his “You’re Welcome” segment from The Daily Show. The setting of leather-chaired psychiatrist’s office (perhaps inspiring Troy and Abed to opt for chocolate milk-filled cognac glasses and a Troy and Abed in the Morning: Nights segment?) seemed exactly like something Chang would dream up, gave us some great “Britta’s trying way too hard at this psychology thing” jokes, allowed Jeff to do a Groucho Marx impression, and is perfect for a clip show. The Greendale Asylum section was hilariously dark—between the weird sephia filter and ghastly sight of Annie maniacally laughing while strapped to a sheetless bed, it was legitimately horrifying. Then they overdubbed Garrett to sound like a smoke-throated doctor from the Mad Men era. Just perfect.

The future looks weird for Community, and by weird, I mean Dan Harmon might not be back and we might get some lame Chevy Chase physical comedy next year. But they seem to be amping up for another strong finish, and that’s what everyone needs to realize: three (maybe four) seasons of this level of high-quality programming is worth enjoying in the present. Maybe ten years from now, after enough internet bitching, Netflix will finance a movie for the Greendale Seven (probably six, there’s no way Pierce has ten more years in him). Just remember that if next season is Community’s last, at least it never lost its power or became a stumbling, phoned-in shadow of itself. Whining about cancellation, like Jeff Winger says, "is a completely unnecessary process...we could just admit the simple fact that one day, something is in your life, and one day, it's not." This is a great, envelope-pushing show, and the world television is better for its existence. Just enjoy it.

Occupy Greendale!

The characters on Community have an amazing ability to divert any attention away from others and to themselves. The group seems to proceed as if they actually are the main characters of a sitcom—recall last week when the smashing of their biology yam brought the entire school to a screeching halt. This week, as they attempt to cope with the death of Star-Burns, Britta tries to save the day with her “psychology training,” before they’re interrupted by the Dean (who finally reveals that he picks out his outfits before visiting the group). Apparently due to grief over Starburns’ death by exploding meth lab, Professor Omar from The Wire has resigned, leaving their grades incomplete and forcing them to make up the credit over the summer. Jeff nearly Hulks out over his summer being shot. Shirley wants to have a memorial service—so she can bake some brownies and sing “Ave Maria.” At the wake, everyone’s eulogy turns into an anti-Greendale screed based on their personal instances of being wronged by the school. A riot ensues where the cafeteria is destroyed. The Dean, worrying about things like Subway’s business and the fate of $50 microphones, authorizes Chang to declare martial law. The Changlourious Basterds return (Annie: “awww, tiny riot gear”) and pepper spray the hell out of everyone.

Because they’re the main characters of the show, the group (now the “Greendale Seven”) faces expulsion for inciting the riot, even though none of them participated in the violence. They make the logical decision to try to pin the horrors of the morning on Chang, who gave pre-teens riot gear and pepper spray. The Dean decides to back them (he knows if they’re expelled, he’ll never have another opportunity to stand between Jeff and Troy in a group hug again), but he accidentally gives his testimony up to Chang. Greendale’s new presumptive dictator has already manufactured a fake dean, and he knocks the real one out with a tranquilizer. The group gets expelled, goes home, orders pizza, and Annie starts drinking. Troy rallies them, and there’s a classic sitcom “at least we have each other” moment where everyone glances around meaningfully and chomps down on pizza.

This is another instance of Community falsifying a moment and misdirecting its audience. Yes, it's nice to see that the group loves each other, but they've lost their only real reason for hanging out together. From the upcoming episode titles (this week was “Course Listing Unavailable,” next week is “Curriculum Unavailable” followed by “The First Chang Dynasty”), it’s hard to think that this will be resolved as quickly as the Troy and Abed Civil War.

It’s impossible to watch this episode without thinking about Occupy Wall Street, particularly Occupy Oakland. The study group is angered by a circumstance they can’t control—their credit is only invalid because the Dean doesn’t know how to administrate a school. It’s not like Professor Omar from The Wire is the only biology professor on campus. Another professor could step in and administer a final exam. Not hard. At the wake, Shirley is angry because she had an idea to open a sandwich shop in the cafeteria. Shirley is at Greendale to learn how to run a business, and when presented with an opportunity, she’s outbid by a giant corporation so ominously powerful they’ve actually possessed a human being. Troy and Abed are our equivalent of Occupy drum circlers—they don’t really have a horse in the race, they just want to do the rather 80s chant of “When I say ‘Greendale’, you say ‘sucks!’” Pierce is That Guy, the one who doesn’t know what he’s mad about, but he’s been mad for a long time, so he just yells “Let’s burn this mother down!”, which is what prompts the cafeteria to explode with violent students.

The Dean, completely unable to admit his mistakes and nervous of the consequences, makes no effort to understand the students’ grievances or even talk to them. He can’t understand why anyone would be unhappy at his school, and to be fair, there is no one specific demand that the rioting students make (much like OWS and its many factions). They just want bureaucratic competency, decent opportunities, and their summer back. This being Greendale, that just ain’t gonna happen.

While this week’s episode was excellent and leads to some intriguing plot developments, it begs a few questions. Is it not too soon to make jokes about the merciless pepper-spraying of peaceful protesters? I think Harmon and crew did it subtlety enough, but it could’ve used more development and maybe less frivolity. And the question that applies to Occupiers also applies to the “Greendale Seven”: what’s your next move? Winter is over and it’s an election year—are the protests still relevant and necessary? (Yes). Chang may have manipulated the school board and gotten you expelled, but are you going to let your lives “get double-ruined,” as Annie says before taking a shot? Harmon and crew seem to be gearing up for another epic end to the season. It will be interesting to see if they can deal with a more contemporary setting, rather than mimicking genre pieces.

Community: An Uncannily Topical Episode on a 21-Year-Old TV Franchise

We knew we were getting a Law and Order episode ever since the trailer for the Great Community Return, but it took them so long to get to it that I’d forgotten about it entirely. I’d guessed it was going to be a subplot of an episode, not an entire episode. But Dan Harmon wanted to get his Dick Wolf on, and the result was the most Community of Community episodes ever, even though it wasn’t a Community episode (get it?).


The case against Law and Order is pretty easy to make. It’s a show that uses pop psychology, ripped-from-the-textbook straw characters, and a trivialized depiction of the criminal justice system where murderers, rapists, child molesters, and murdering child rapists are indentified, arrested, and tried within 40 minutes. Sort of makes those assholes on The Wire seem really bad at their jobs, right?

Speaking of The Wire, Omar! Omar, muthafuckas, OMAR! Michael K. Williams returned this week as Professor Kane, the dude learned got a PhD in biology while in prison. I mentioned last week how him having the flu was a major fan disservice. I should’ve known that Harmon and crew were foreshadowing his return this week.

As is befitting a Law and Order episode, all of the characters quickly fall into stereotypes: Jeff and Annie as the lawyers (one hotshot, one super motivated), Shirley becomes the sassy Danny Glover “I’m too old for this shit” character, Britta as the in-lab technology nerd (which, for Britta, just means using Instagram), Pierce as the old snitch running a cop-tolerated gambling ring, and Troy and Abed as cop partners quasi-fighting over who’s turn it is to say the zinger. 


A great thing this episode does is bring back a whole slew of peripheral characters, who also fall into stereotypes. The two janitors appear at the beginning of the episode in the “working class stiffs who discover the body and then are never seen or heard from again.” Gary (the fat guy who isn’t Neil) is the guy who runs shitty hot dog stand. Real Neil With Pipes of Steel (nee Fat Neil) is the administrative person who somehow knows about the case but isn’t a real suspect. Starburns is the guy who you think has done it all along but really isn’t the culprit. Magnitude! is another early suspect. Todd, whom Pierce ditched as a biology partner early in the season, has a large role, and even Vicki returns.

You could write a lot on hilarious things Troy and Abed do in this episode, but I’ll keep it brief: Troy wears a Spiderman tie throughout (Donald for Spiderman!), Abed actually says “he’s a bad cop. I’m a good cop,” and when they discover the dead yam late at night, Abed shows up in a T-shirt, hoodie, and boxers. Classic stuff.

Anyway, at the end of the episode, you’re reminded exactly how ridiculous all of this is. Professor Kane is not amused by the group’s “investigation,” but he plays along because he knows it’s the only way to get Annie Adderall to shut the hell up. Professor Kane, who spent twenty-five years in prison, even says, “Need I remind you that this is not a courtroom?” Kane is played by Michael K. Williams, who actually got that giant scar across his face on his 25th birthday. He also portrayed the President of the United States’ favorite character on the best, most realistic cop show of all time. Omar even gets misquoted in this episode—Kane and Jeff both say “Man gotta have a code” (after which Dean Pelton says “Awesome!”) at separate times. But the Omar quote is the less ebonic “A man must have a code.”

The episode is a mockery of the criminal justice system, and it gestures towards that fact. L&O is a mockery of the criminal justice system, and Community is making a mockery of that mockery. Honestly, even if we follow the internal logic of the episode, it doesn’t even hold up as a crime drama. We never knew that yam existed before, and it’s a yam, for crissakes, so who really cares if it’s been murdered?

It’s also impossible to watch this episode without thinking of the recent dustup between Grantland’s Wire character bracket and Wire  creator David Simon. Simon made some tone-deaf comments to the media, and Bill Simmons called him a “condescending, humorless blowhard.” Then Simon got a blog to clarify his comments, basically saying that The Wire raised too many important questions to be “[hacked]…into pop culture nuggets.”

Neither is wrong, of course. Simon is a bit of a dick (but he’s not the only TV show creator I wouldn’t necessarily like to have a beer with), but he’s right that The Wire is about more than just the best character (obviously it’s between Omar, Avon, Stringer, and McNulty, and it’s probably Stringer, but whatevs). All of this is a necessary and uncannily timely background to Community’s Law and Order episode. If The Wire (or, you know, walking around some rough-looking city streets and speaking to members of your community) tells us anything, it’s that moral relativism is the law of the land. America isn’t a fair country, and when you consider everything, there aren’t really any good guys or bad guys. What L&O tells us is that cops always want to catch bad guys, and bad people are just bad, end of sentence. Community, in its self-possessed, hyper-referential way, made an episode about how dangerous and artistically stupid that is. I don’t know if this episode would seem as relevant without the Simmons/Simon dustup, but hey, maybe Dan Harmon can see the future.

'Community': I Find You Guilty of Being Abed

This week’s Community made me unbearably sad. It reminded me of a truth I’d ignored until now: after this year, we can’t make fun of Grey’s Anatomy anymore. The Mayans were right.

The decline of the hospital drama set in a “a sexy, emotional school[/hospital] where doctors save lives and make love, sometimes simultaneously” with “stories ripped from the headlines [and] passions unbridled” means we’re losing a medium that was more fun to make fun of than Nickelback. Moment of silence, y’all. Shoutout to George Clooney.

This week, the group is cramming for their biology final, and they can’t even remember Kingdom-Phylum-Class-Order-Genus-Species. Honestly, is a degree from Greendale even worth anything? Then they’re informed that Omar from The Wire has the flu and the exam is cancelled (saving the day for the group while doing a major disservice to the audience). They decide to take a three-hour lunch. Pierce is going to watch the first half of three movies (could’ve fit in all of Hoop Dreams), Shirley is going to the fast food restaurant across town, Jeff is doing Winger things, and Annie orchestrates a Troy/Britta lunch under the guise of getting Abed to teach her how the Dreamatorium works. 

What’s interesting about this episode is that we don’t get a whole lot of the other characters’ actual thoughts/feelings. It’s all simulations run by Abed. Does Jeff actually want to be with Annie, or is that just how Abed interprets what’s going on? How does Annie really feel about Jeff? We know she thinks he’s hot, and we get some stuff about “if we can make Jeff love us, we’ll never be alone” (a great thing to say to yourself when there’s two of you in the room), but that’s after a few hours of being goaded by Abed. How does she really feel? The scene also goes from Abed as Annie talking to Annie to Abed as Annie talking to Annie as Abed. We get two people in a room being each other and have no idea if we can trust either of them. Furthermore, we get a simulation of Britta and Troy’s lunch, which Abed assumes is going badly. In the real world, it’s going great. We get no indication if it will lead to Troy and Britta being together, but Abed is willing to take that logical leap as well—in the hospital simulation, Britta and Troy “make out” (Abed running back and forth and sticking his tongue out while moaning). This contradiction either discredits Abed’s simulations or is merely multiple consequences. Either way, they’re only tangentially rooted in reality. 

In some respects, Abed is the ultimate unreliable narrator—all-knowing yet completely anti-social, cares too much about his friends while disregarding them as “unremarkables,” unable to understand social cues while able to predict how people will behave. We can’t trust a thing he says, but we can’t disagree, either. Annie, on the other hand, is the prefect foil: she empathizes almost too much with how her friends are feeling, and she’s naive enough to believe that she can cure Britta’s bad boy addiction (last week), fix Jeff’s trust/romantic issues, hook Troy and Britta up, and save Abed from his self-doubt, all while being a solid Dreamatorium companion.

Ultimately, this episode is about fear of abandonment and loneliness. No one in this group is able to function in society, but Abed has less of a chance than everyone else: Jeff will eventually get his law license back, Britta will open a thrift store or something, Annie has recovered from her pill addiction and is smart, Shirley is remarried and has a business plan, Troy has plumbing as a fallback, and Pierce will soon be dead. Abed can make films, yes, but his wild Asperger’s makes it impossible for people to understand him. He and Troy weren’t friends until a few episodes in (hard to remember, right?). He and Jeff have a special bond, but only because Jeff’s lawyer friends probably don’t understand TV as well as Jeff does. And when exactly will Jeff see Abed after graduation? These are the best years of Abed’s life because he’s never going to have another excuse for this many friends to live with him. Abed in this episode is feeling the same way you feel when you come home from summer camp, or when you graduate high school, or when you leave your study abroad semester, or when you graduate college. Life is about to change, and the exact relationship you had with the people you spent this time with will never be the same. It’s a strange kind of existential sadness: everyone and everything that’s made your life worth living is changing in a way that means you’re going to have to find a different way of living. Granted, Abed still has another year at Greendale, and his friendship with Troy is too strong to change simply because Troy gets married, but you can understand his fear.

I’ll sum it up the most Abed way possible: he wants to be like seasons 1-5 of Scrubs. And nobody wants to be seasons 7-9 of Scrubs.

Shoutouts: Troy cried to About a Boy—the soundtrack. Hell yes. That was a great soundtrack. Also, apparently Troy and Abed play Dinosaurs vs. Riverboat Gamblers. I need to know what this is.

Pierce Watch: While he still hasn’t done anything of note to forward his character, the group, or the show since the Great Community Return, he did have some funny lines. When everyone is listing their day’s accomplishments, Pierce says he almost sat on his balls, but at the last second, he “made an adjustment.” Pierce has to be the best argument for taking the Hemingway out when you’re 61. Then it’s hilariously revealed that he didn’t actually make that adjustment, saying he “sat right on them,” which leads to the most perfect Shirley “aw Pierce, I’m sorry.” It indicates that Pierce probably won’t make any significant changes soon, and that Yvette Nicole Brown is the greatest.

Dean of Thrones: The "Duali-DEAN of Man" might be the Dean’s most fitting costume yet. To one side, the bald, bad suit wearing, middle-aged dean of a community college that was almost completely undone by a paintball game. On the other side, the fancy, hair-flipping lady who enjoys “putting on the ritz.” Why this two-faced split? He has good news and bad news. At the end of the scene, the Dean finally shows some self-realization. Amazing. “I have to go to the bank today. What am I supposed to tell people in line? ‘I had good news and bad news?’ Come on, Craig. Get your life together.” The Dean going too far (“get your life together, Craig”) shows that while he’s homo-repressed, occasionally a cross-dresser, and has a weird thing with Dalmatians (just furries, or dogs, too?), he works really hard to keep up professionalism. It’s been pointed out before that the inhabitants of Greendale don’t have anything in common except their inability to function in polite society. The Dean (and the fact that you rarely remember his name is Craig Pelton) is probably the best example of that.