For a look back on the first episode of Community’s epic three-part finale, click here. This is a review/analysis (revalysis? reviewlysis?) of the final two, “The First Chang Dynasty” and “Introduction to Finality.”
Releasing three absolutely golden pieces of television in the same week is no small feat. It definitely feels like the Community crew thought this would be their last season and wanted to end something as legendary and flipping-the-bird-to-NBC as possible. And they did it. Of course, it is coming back next season, and I fully expect to be high quality. Maybe it’ll even be more fun for the actors, writers, and production staff. But without Dan Harmon, it’s hard to see anything approaching the greatness of Thursday’s three episodes.
That said, “The First Chang Dynasty” raises an important question: Is dictatorship an okay thing to satirize? Yes, satire and comedy are some of the most effective ways to tear down the power of societal ills. But what Sacha Baron Cohen’s thus-far-not-well-reviewed The Dictator (only 61% on Rotten Tomatoes through its first weekend) and “The First Chang Dynasty” both have in common is they are Western productions. A Syrian mother with two dead children or a Chinese factory worker putting in 100-hour weeks might not find this stuff as funny. The argument is distance: as Americans, dictatorships are very far-off and foreign to us. The most famous dictators to Americans are Arabic, African, and Asian. Even though they’re dead, I’m sure the first names on any American’s mind when it comes to dictators (exceptions being archetypes like Hitler and Stalin) are Saddam Hussein, Moammar Gadhafi, and Kim Jong-Il. Maybe Fidel Castro.
In a plot that’s been building for a while, Chang positions himself as a Kim Jong-Il caricature (is it even possible to make a caricature out of that crazy dead bastard?), which is certainly Ken Jeong’s right, being of South Korean descent. He could’ve told Harmon and the writers that he was uncomfortable with the part, but he didn’t. Plus, he was funny, and it was a logical development for his increasingly psychopathic character. The show earned this episode by building it up slowly over time, and they did well to show Chang’s student rights abuses as little as possible—security checkpoints at building entrances, sycophantic Board members, a puppet Dean—nothing too radical here.
Another trick the show used was to focus the episode on an Ocean’s 11-style heist, with the stolen goods being Dean Pelton. It’s a short vignette, but it’s the meat of the episode, what this episode will really be remembered for—other than Chang playing keytar in a George Washington costume decorated with bottle caps. It wasn’t about overthrowing Chang so much as it was getting the Dean safe and clearing their names. This is a wise move—centering the show on trying to overthrow a dictator would be impossible to make comedy. Dictatorships and corrupt governments are very hard cultures to shake, and to satirize it from a Western high horse would be insulting.
That doesn’t address whether this episode is insulting/otherizing. With oppressive government regimes at best fresh remembrances or at worst the norm on three continents, is it okay to joke about them from far away? Ken Jeong, a Detroit native of Korean descent, plays Chang. Baron Cohen, a British Jew, has used his half-Isreali parentage to create racially ambiguous characters from North Africa, Kazakhstan, and Germany. Neither are that far removed from oppression, but these are Hollywood productions. Not to take away from their excellent work, but how long will it be before we think of this as a Millennial version of blackface?
It’s hard to have any real answers, and I don’t want to Britta this column. But it’s worth thinking about, especially since this seems to be becoming a more common joke.
After Chang is ousted, “Introduction to Finality” explores the opposite of dictatorships: selfless good. It’s safe to assume that it was filmed as a series finale, and you can’t end a comedy like Community on something as horrible as the group finding out their last three years at Greendale have been completely wasted thanks to a crazy, Spanish-speaking Korean. So every loose end is brought up. Jeff has a foot out the door: “I am here to replace my fake bachelor’s so I can resume my life as a lawyer.” Abed is melting down, Tyler-Durden style. Troy is ready to commit to Air Conditioning Repair School, leaving all his friends behind. Britta realizes she’s average. Shirley and Pierce are bickering over who owns the sandwich shop, solely because there’s only one dotted line on the contract. The episode begins with evil characters, and they eventually turn good.
Duality. At first, I thought it was out of character for Community. For a show that regularly lampoons easy binaries and TV clichés, why have Evil Abed vs. Abed, Jeff vs. his old best friend/nemesis (and by extension, his old self), Shirley and Pierce battling over a petty clerical error, Britta accepting she’s average and thus giving up on helping people, and Troy’s love for his friends vs. AC school. But that’s the crux: Troy’s love for his friends.
After sacrificing his freedom so the group and the Dean could be freed from Chang’s clutches, Troy was forced into the AC school, where almost no time at all passed before he was read a prophecy with a Christlike tagline (“the truest repairman will repair man”) and thrust into a duel with the evil Murray in a hellish “Sun Chamber.” The objective is to fix an AC unit faster than your opponent while the temperature steadily rises. It’s literally a good vs. evil matchup in a Hell stand-in.
Everything is done over a classic Jeff Winger Speech. Seeing as Winger is a stand-in for Harmon, and the show is based on Harmon’s experience taking Spanish classes at a community college to save a dying relationship, I have to ask: Is this show about the moral education of Jeff Winger? He is our ostensible hero. He fraudulently creates the study group to get into Britta’s pants, and the group unexpectedly becomes his best friends. Just listen to the beginning of this last epic Winger Speech:
“My client, Shirley Bennett, my friend of three years, she told me [throwing the case] was okay, because what I want matters. Guys like me, we’ll tell you there’s no right or wrong…and as long as we believe that, guys like me can never lose…The truth is...helping only ourselves is bad and helping each other is good.”
He’s learned! He even sold out his former lawyer best friend in court, losing his old firm a valuable account (Pierce) and seemingly giving up the opportunity at a powerful law career. Pierce even renounces homophobia.
It’s also telling that the group never learns, despite a whole episode of trying, what cellular mitosis is (hint: it’s when cells divide. #subtlety!). This entire show is about rejects, failures, and people so down in life that they’d believe a community college was an insane asylum becoming friends. Rebuilding together. For all its darkness, weirdness, and cynicism, who knew Community was about how beautiful companionship is. Instead of being a mean-spirited takedown of what “communities” are, it reaffirms the need for a strong core of friends and family. It’s actually kind of nice.
Now, Dan Harmon is fired, and they’ve got 13 more episodes to create more drama. Then they have to come up with a resolution as good as this one. Future looks bright, folks.
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
They Sell Moist Towelettes Almost Everywhere
Thursday night’s Community—the last time I will ever write that sentence—was a three-episode marathon of a season finale. I’m not sure that’s ever been done in the history of TV, and NBC seemed to be confused by it, too—the first episode, “Digital Estate Planning,” aired before a 30 Rock episode, followed by the second two, “The First Chang Dynasty” and “Introduction to Finality.” Here are my thoughts on “Digital Estate Planning,” with the other two to follow tomorrow.
By now, everyone’s heard of the “video game episode”—yes, Community went pixilated. The background is that Pierce asked his father for money to invest in video games way back in 1979. Papa Hawthorne, believing video games to be a passing fad, refuses (“Moist towelettes are sold in nearly every superstore, while arcade after arcade closes down”). Unbeknownst to Pierce, his father develops a massive multiplayer game, with the winner receiving Pierce’s inheritance. Pierce is supposed to bring his seven closest friends, so he shows up with the group (LeVar Burton was a ‘maybe’). Also playing is Gilbert, Papa Hawthorne’s former manservant. Well, the technical term is “assistant,” but given the way Gilbert was treated, he might as well have been a manservant. In a completely expected twist, Gilbert and Pierce are half-brothers—Gilbert’s mother is Pierce’s nanny’s hot cousin.
This episode is simultaneously the most energy the show has devoted to racism, while being a sort-of redemption for its most racist character. In the game, the group spawns in the study room, where they’re attacked by hippies who sex them to death. After getting past them, the first real setting in the game is an archetypal medieval village outside of Hawkthorne Castle, where Pierce’s father rules (cleverly, the Castle is north of the village, implying Papa Hawthorne is even whiter than this town). It’s pretty Zelda-esque and innocently video gamey. Then we learn that the objective of the game is to rescue the white crystal from the black cavern. After leaving the town, they go through a level called “The Valley of Laziness” (made of tacos and topped with a sombrero), “Gay Island” (shaped like a penis), Free Ride Ferry (a wheelchair), and finally to Black Cave, where you ride fried chicken over lava and fight jive turkeys.
By including all of these hateful, uncompassionate stereotypes, we get a more full idea of who Pierce’s father was. Yes, we know he’s a rich, bigoted white supremacist already. But the game takes it to a new extreme. This man wasn’t a casual bigot—xenophobic hate consumed every facet of his life. He couldn’t exist without these Others to keep down.
Walter Isaacson, Steve Jobs’ biographer, talks about how Jobs was a “Product Guy.” He didn’t care about money so much as he cared about making products that would change the world (riches and power and influence were a by-product). He lured Apple CEO John Sculley away from PepsiCo by saying, “Do you want to spend the rest of your life selling sugared water, or do you want a chance to change the world?” Papa Hawthorne was never like that. He wanted the world to stay the exact same as it had been in some imagined past, and he wanted as much power as possible. Building a moist towelette empire isn’t a joke anymore—it’s a character trait.
This environment led to Pierce’s blind fear and hatred. We learn in this episode that Pierce isn’t just racist, he’s mean-spirited. When Hilda’s (Abed’s pixilated love interest) family’s hut burns down (thanks to Annie and Shirley), Pierce says “What’s with St. Pauli Girl?” in response to her tears. For Pierce, everyone needs to be put down, because that’s all he ever heard from his father. Things were so bad, his inheritance isn’t even guaranteed.
The resolution at the end is phenomenal. After winning the game, Gilbert refuses his inheritance because it would mean having to sign a legally binding agreement stating he doesn’t know who his father is. The group forfeits and Pierce tells him to “get in there and kill our dad.” Racist Pierce and jealous Gilbert do the most un-Shakespearian thing possible, embracing one another as brothers and going out for yard-long margaritas (“yard margs”). So yes, on Thursday, Community killed racism. Or did they? Stay tuned!
One last word: This could be the last of Community’s highly ambitious, mess-with-medium projects. With news coming that creator, show runner, and frequent target of praise/snark Dan Harmon would not be returning for season four, it seemed like a send-off for Harmon. It was one more impossibility to cement Harmon’s status as the ambitious show runner to date, just before he lost his baby to a network hell-bent on not catering to its audience. As Kanye West says, “act like you’ll ever be around motherfuckers like this again”—Community will return next season. But episodes like “Digital Estate Planning” probably won’t happen as frequently.
By now, everyone’s heard of the “video game episode”—yes, Community went pixilated. The background is that Pierce asked his father for money to invest in video games way back in 1979. Papa Hawthorne, believing video games to be a passing fad, refuses (“Moist towelettes are sold in nearly every superstore, while arcade after arcade closes down”). Unbeknownst to Pierce, his father develops a massive multiplayer game, with the winner receiving Pierce’s inheritance. Pierce is supposed to bring his seven closest friends, so he shows up with the group (LeVar Burton was a ‘maybe’). Also playing is Gilbert, Papa Hawthorne’s former manservant. Well, the technical term is “assistant,” but given the way Gilbert was treated, he might as well have been a manservant. In a completely expected twist, Gilbert and Pierce are half-brothers—Gilbert’s mother is Pierce’s nanny’s hot cousin.
This episode is simultaneously the most energy the show has devoted to racism, while being a sort-of redemption for its most racist character. In the game, the group spawns in the study room, where they’re attacked by hippies who sex them to death. After getting past them, the first real setting in the game is an archetypal medieval village outside of Hawkthorne Castle, where Pierce’s father rules (cleverly, the Castle is north of the village, implying Papa Hawthorne is even whiter than this town). It’s pretty Zelda-esque and innocently video gamey. Then we learn that the objective of the game is to rescue the white crystal from the black cavern. After leaving the town, they go through a level called “The Valley of Laziness” (made of tacos and topped with a sombrero), “Gay Island” (shaped like a penis), Free Ride Ferry (a wheelchair), and finally to Black Cave, where you ride fried chicken over lava and fight jive turkeys.
By including all of these hateful, uncompassionate stereotypes, we get a more full idea of who Pierce’s father was. Yes, we know he’s a rich, bigoted white supremacist already. But the game takes it to a new extreme. This man wasn’t a casual bigot—xenophobic hate consumed every facet of his life. He couldn’t exist without these Others to keep down.
Walter Isaacson, Steve Jobs’ biographer, talks about how Jobs was a “Product Guy.” He didn’t care about money so much as he cared about making products that would change the world (riches and power and influence were a by-product). He lured Apple CEO John Sculley away from PepsiCo by saying, “Do you want to spend the rest of your life selling sugared water, or do you want a chance to change the world?” Papa Hawthorne was never like that. He wanted the world to stay the exact same as it had been in some imagined past, and he wanted as much power as possible. Building a moist towelette empire isn’t a joke anymore—it’s a character trait.
This environment led to Pierce’s blind fear and hatred. We learn in this episode that Pierce isn’t just racist, he’s mean-spirited. When Hilda’s (Abed’s pixilated love interest) family’s hut burns down (thanks to Annie and Shirley), Pierce says “What’s with St. Pauli Girl?” in response to her tears. For Pierce, everyone needs to be put down, because that’s all he ever heard from his father. Things were so bad, his inheritance isn’t even guaranteed.
The resolution at the end is phenomenal. After winning the game, Gilbert refuses his inheritance because it would mean having to sign a legally binding agreement stating he doesn’t know who his father is. The group forfeits and Pierce tells him to “get in there and kill our dad.” Racist Pierce and jealous Gilbert do the most un-Shakespearian thing possible, embracing one another as brothers and going out for yard-long margaritas (“yard margs”). So yes, on Thursday, Community killed racism. Or did they? Stay tuned!
One last word: This could be the last of Community’s highly ambitious, mess-with-medium projects. With news coming that creator, show runner, and frequent target of praise/snark Dan Harmon would not be returning for season four, it seemed like a send-off for Harmon. It was one more impossibility to cement Harmon’s status as the ambitious show runner to date, just before he lost his baby to a network hell-bent on not catering to its audience. As Kanye West says, “act like you’ll ever be around motherfuckers like this again”—Community will return next season. But episodes like “Digital Estate Planning” probably won’t happen as frequently.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
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:
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.
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.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
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, andthe world television is better for its existence. Just enjoy it.
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
Tuesday, May 08, 2012
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.
Tuesday, May 01, 2012
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
'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.
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.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
We're All Friends Here, Except For Chevy Chase
The initial weeks of the Great Community Return have been dominated by grandiose art metaphors, Ken Burns sendups, campus-wide pillow fights, and Britta looking way too much like Michael Jackson, so it was nice that Community scaled way back for this episode. Community is certainly at its most creative when doing wild genre parodies, but some of their best episodes happen when the characters are just allowed to act together. This was even true for "Remedial Chaos Theory," where Jeff creates six different timelines in parody of Lost and The Butterfly Effect. Despite the high concept, it was basically a bottle episode featuring just the group.
This week opened with Troy and Abed (who had been quarreling in recent weeks) playing Best Friends Patty Cake. It was probably the most adorable thing in sitcom history. We then find out that Britta’s ex-boyfriend—a carny named Blade who killed her belief in love—is in town. She runs to Annie and begs her to put her on lockdown by taking her phone and keeping her under a watchful eye all weekend. The two quickly develop a bond over their respective struggles with addiction. Britta has shown in the past how desperate for sisterhood she is—she's so closed off to the company of other women that she's never even been invited to go to the bathroom before. Annie is desperate for Britta's approval because Britta's cool and Annie's a goody-goody. While we’re mostly led to believe Britta was feeding Annie this sisterhood crap to get her phone back and text Blade, there are some genuine feelings underneath on both sides.
Meanwhile, Shirley accompanies Jeff to the carnival because Jeff wants to see what’s so special about Blade. The weird Jeff/Shirley connection is one of the more interesting relationships on the show. It’s basically Our Hero getting Magic Negro Advice from Our Token Colored Lady, but the fact that Jeff never listens to her and Shirley is so sympathetic and likable on her own (“I wanna go on a ride…I spent my carnival years pregnant.”) makes the relationship work. Winger ends up doing whatever he wants anyway, and Shirley seems to be able to navigate the group in the healthiest way of anyone. Recall when she recited Psalm 23 while clocking motherfuckers in the first paintball game, only to happily go home to her sons when she got eliminated. Shirley is probably the happiest character and Yvette Nicole Brown’s comedic timing is phenomenal, but she totally flies under the radar.
The relationship angle is the idea of men being destructively seductive. Britta will go to Blade even though he’s terrible for her and Shirley will let husband Andre get away with anything. Jeff somehow has gone through life never realizing this possibility, and is now intrigued by it. Annie has also made it twenty years without this sort of relationship, even though Jeff is slowly becoming that for her (did Alison Brie swoon more when Joel McHale changed his shirt in Community or when Jon Hamm stripped and fixed her sink in Mad Men? Sub-question: week-to-week, how jealous is everyone of Alison Brie?). Annie buries her feelings while Jeff goes to discover. Here is also the episode loses a bit of consistency. Blade, a ladyslayer so egregious he actually got Pierce to be funny (“Her pain unifies us. She’s the King Arthur of bad taste in men”), actually seems like a pretty chill bro. He’s so down to earth that Jeff spills his guts out to him while dropping $300 on his duck-shooting table. His only downside seems to be that he works at a carnival and has a gross awesome trashstashe. This is what Britta’s cowering from? Come on, Community. Give us some real mayhem.
It’s also revealed that Troy has a huge crush on Britta. She can’t realize it because of all the Blade talk, but she eventually figures it out when she learns that she’d been texting Annie and the boys all night. The episode ends with some self-satisfied looking around at each other, which is typically a sign of lazy writing. For some reason, it works here, mostly because nothing is settled: the Winger Speech at the end was probably the emptiest Winger speech of all time. How could everyone possibly have been content for the evening? With a show as smart as Community, you can count on heavy stuff next week.
Interestingly, all the sidelong glances and sexual tension, Community seems set on upending other sitcom tropes, but for earnest reasons instead of sarcasm. The entire reason these people know each other is because Jeff wanted to do Britta “like a crossword” (mission accomplished!), and it makes sense that they’d end up together: Jeff is the hero, and Britta is the blonde. Furthermore, since Annie Adderall and Football Captain Troy went to the same high school but never knew each other, it makes sense that Troy and Annie would end up together. Instead, Troy is completely all about Britta, and Annie is completely all about Jeff. Whether or not Our Hero or Our Blonde will realize it remains to be seen, but the typical sitcom arrangements do not seem to be in the stars.
Pierce Watch: Pierce’s stories aren’t even subplots anymore, nor is he attached to anything going on with the group. This week, after whining about not having a best friend, he takes up with Chang. The two go on a date to the carnival, it’s not very funny, everyone knows it’ll last about two minutes because it’s racist Pierce and psychotic Chang, and well, guess what happens. The way it ends, though, is interesting. Chang asks how to keep a best friendship going, and Pierce responds with “I say we just let it happen.” Psycho Chang then bursts out with “Don’t tell me what to do!” and storms off. It’s a cursory sketch of something that easily kills relationships: the fear of hurting or getting hurt. To predict is human, and predictions are based on past experience. New friendships/romances can be frightening because you imagine repeating the horrible things you’ve done or the horrible things that have been done to you. The easy answer is to run away quickly, before things escalate and someone gets really hurt. The Pierce/Chang end is exactly this. Unfortunately, it’s Pierce and Chang, so exactly no one cares.
Dean of Thrones: Not to repeat a gimmick in the same column, but Dean Pelton deserves his own paragraph. How hilariously childish and homo-repressed is it that he’s into trains now? And how many awesome puns can the Community writers come up with for his ridiculous entrances? “She’ll be comin’ around the mount-dean when she comes?” Not only is it excellently suggestive, Jim Rash’s delivery is so sneaky you almost miss it. Then you miss his next few lines because the pun is so hilarious. The fact that he needs a book on how to do things, then a Scotch and soda (which he doesn’t know how to make) is great enough. But then his only plan for getting Troy to sign up for the Air Conditioning Repair School (which is developing into a City College-like rivalry) is showing up at Troy and Abed’s with a six-pack of Dr. Pepper and a bag of chips for “boys night.” Dean Pelton rivals 30 Rock’s Kevin as the best adorable-puppy-you-still-want-to-kick character on NBC.
This week opened with Troy and Abed (who had been quarreling in recent weeks) playing Best Friends Patty Cake. It was probably the most adorable thing in sitcom history. We then find out that Britta’s ex-boyfriend—a carny named Blade who killed her belief in love—is in town. She runs to Annie and begs her to put her on lockdown by taking her phone and keeping her under a watchful eye all weekend. The two quickly develop a bond over their respective struggles with addiction. Britta has shown in the past how desperate for sisterhood she is—she's so closed off to the company of other women that she's never even been invited to go to the bathroom before. Annie is desperate for Britta's approval because Britta's cool and Annie's a goody-goody. While we’re mostly led to believe Britta was feeding Annie this sisterhood crap to get her phone back and text Blade, there are some genuine feelings underneath on both sides.
Meanwhile, Shirley accompanies Jeff to the carnival because Jeff wants to see what’s so special about Blade. The weird Jeff/Shirley connection is one of the more interesting relationships on the show. It’s basically Our Hero getting Magic Negro Advice from Our Token Colored Lady, but the fact that Jeff never listens to her and Shirley is so sympathetic and likable on her own (“I wanna go on a ride…I spent my carnival years pregnant.”) makes the relationship work. Winger ends up doing whatever he wants anyway, and Shirley seems to be able to navigate the group in the healthiest way of anyone. Recall when she recited Psalm 23 while clocking motherfuckers in the first paintball game, only to happily go home to her sons when she got eliminated. Shirley is probably the happiest character and Yvette Nicole Brown’s comedic timing is phenomenal, but she totally flies under the radar.
The relationship angle is the idea of men being destructively seductive. Britta will go to Blade even though he’s terrible for her and Shirley will let husband Andre get away with anything. Jeff somehow has gone through life never realizing this possibility, and is now intrigued by it. Annie has also made it twenty years without this sort of relationship, even though Jeff is slowly becoming that for her (did Alison Brie swoon more when Joel McHale changed his shirt in Community or when Jon Hamm stripped and fixed her sink in Mad Men? Sub-question: week-to-week, how jealous is everyone of Alison Brie?). Annie buries her feelings while Jeff goes to discover. Here is also the episode loses a bit of consistency. Blade, a ladyslayer so egregious he actually got Pierce to be funny (“Her pain unifies us. She’s the King Arthur of bad taste in men”), actually seems like a pretty chill bro. He’s so down to earth that Jeff spills his guts out to him while dropping $300 on his duck-shooting table. His only downside seems to be that he works at a carnival and has a gross awesome trashstashe. This is what Britta’s cowering from? Come on, Community. Give us some real mayhem.
It’s also revealed that Troy has a huge crush on Britta. She can’t realize it because of all the Blade talk, but she eventually figures it out when she learns that she’d been texting Annie and the boys all night. The episode ends with some self-satisfied looking around at each other, which is typically a sign of lazy writing. For some reason, it works here, mostly because nothing is settled: the Winger Speech at the end was probably the emptiest Winger speech of all time. How could everyone possibly have been content for the evening? With a show as smart as Community, you can count on heavy stuff next week.
Interestingly, all the sidelong glances and sexual tension, Community seems set on upending other sitcom tropes, but for earnest reasons instead of sarcasm. The entire reason these people know each other is because Jeff wanted to do Britta “like a crossword” (mission accomplished!), and it makes sense that they’d end up together: Jeff is the hero, and Britta is the blonde. Furthermore, since Annie Adderall and Football Captain Troy went to the same high school but never knew each other, it makes sense that Troy and Annie would end up together. Instead, Troy is completely all about Britta, and Annie is completely all about Jeff. Whether or not Our Hero or Our Blonde will realize it remains to be seen, but the typical sitcom arrangements do not seem to be in the stars.
Pierce Watch: Pierce’s stories aren’t even subplots anymore, nor is he attached to anything going on with the group. This week, after whining about not having a best friend, he takes up with Chang. The two go on a date to the carnival, it’s not very funny, everyone knows it’ll last about two minutes because it’s racist Pierce and psychotic Chang, and well, guess what happens. The way it ends, though, is interesting. Chang asks how to keep a best friendship going, and Pierce responds with “I say we just let it happen.” Psycho Chang then bursts out with “Don’t tell me what to do!” and storms off. It’s a cursory sketch of something that easily kills relationships: the fear of hurting or getting hurt. To predict is human, and predictions are based on past experience. New friendships/romances can be frightening because you imagine repeating the horrible things you’ve done or the horrible things that have been done to you. The easy answer is to run away quickly, before things escalate and someone gets really hurt. The Pierce/Chang end is exactly this. Unfortunately, it’s Pierce and Chang, so exactly no one cares.
Dean of Thrones: Not to repeat a gimmick in the same column, but Dean Pelton deserves his own paragraph. How hilariously childish and homo-repressed is it that he’s into trains now? And how many awesome puns can the Community writers come up with for his ridiculous entrances? “She’ll be comin’ around the mount-dean when she comes?” Not only is it excellently suggestive, Jim Rash’s delivery is so sneaky you almost miss it. Then you miss his next few lines because the pun is so hilarious. The fact that he needs a book on how to do things, then a Scotch and soda (which he doesn’t know how to make) is great enough. But then his only plan for getting Troy to sign up for the Air Conditioning Repair School (which is developing into a City College-like rivalry) is showing up at Troy and Abed’s with a six-pack of Dr. Pepper and a bag of chips for “boys night.” Dean Pelton rivals 30 Rock’s Kevin as the best adorable-puppy-you-still-want-to-kick character on NBC.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
'Community' Burns Ken Burns to Save Troy and Abed
Last week, Community made compelling arguments for both sides of the art vs commercialism debate while ripping its two most likable characters and most functional relationship apart. It seemed like the feud, while childish and dumb, would never end—a terrifying prospect. But they wrapped it up quickly, and thank God. I guess sometimes, you realize that your battles carry as much weight as, say, a community college paintball match. Or the battle for artistic integrity on the consistently lowest-ranked network on television. Or maybe as much as a feud between an extremely dickish show runner and an extremely dickish past-his-prime comedian.
This week’s episode was decidedly less explosive than a paintball episode. More…soft and downy, if you will. While there are references to pretty every war ever—it’s a giant metaphor for the Civil War; no territory changes hands, like WWI; it’s completely pointless, like almost every war ever—it feels less like a war and more like twenty minutes of taking the piss out of Ken Burns. All due respect to Burnsy, but it’s high comedy.
The documentary takes itself way too seriously, Burns-style, by reading aloud text messages (emoticons included), facebook status updates with subsequent likes, bad college poetry, and describing a reality show that’s no fun to watch on time delay because then you’d be the last to know what happens. There are few action shots—the episode relies on plodding voiceover, camera stills, and talking heads.
The documentary’s humor comes from taking all of the characters at face value: Troy and Abed are viewed as great tacticians. Jeff finds a “leading role” and delivers a rousing speech (to both sides), but is humanized by being completely unable to mediate Troy and Abed’s conflict until the end. Annie opens a care center. Shirley is the kind of ass-kicker into which you can only develop if you’re the mother of two, but again, you feel sorry that she’s kept at school and away from her husband and children for another meaningless, barely-remembered community college conflict. Only two characters are really viewed with contempt: Britta, a much-maligned war photographer (“unfortunately for Britta and millions of photographers like her, just because something is black and white does not make it good) and…
Pierce Watch: Pierce is initially described as “the dried-up heir to a moist towelette empire who would prove to be the dried-up heir to a moist towelete empire.” He initially joins Troy’s forces because Abed is weirder and more foreign, but switches sides because Shirley is given a higher rank by Troy. He suffers from erectile dysfunction. Then he designs a super-destructive secret weapon, which just him as a giant white pillowy blob of inhuman mess destroying everything in his path. It’s a physical manifestation of Pierce himself since The Great Community Return.
The episode’s biggest strength, as with all of Community’s classics, is how well it treats its characters. Will the show rely on cliché stereotypes and become little more than a Mad TV sketch, or will it explore who these people are as human beings and make the viewer give a shit? Well, Fat Neil reinvents himself as Real Neil With Pipes of Steel, a nighttime radio DJ. Leonard’s nickname “Bucket of Guts” is awesome. Chang (“rumored to be literally psychotic”) finally gets to unleash his Kiddie Corps, or “Changlourious Basterds.” Dean Pelton is typically dean-y, saying that the fact that the Guinness World Records rep isn’t coming is a “colossal waste of two and a half days,” never once mentioning the actual pillow fight leading to mass truancy. I wonder what it’s like being a professor at Greendale (when you’re not banging Jeff Winger, that is)? So the answer is yes, the show loved its characters here. Except for Pierce and Britta.
The climax is even better. Troy and Abed can’t stop pillow fighting…because they’ve declared their friendship dead and hitting each other with pillows will be the last thing they ever do together. It’s adorable. Jeff tries to bring up the magical friendship hats he made in the dean’s office earlier in the episode. Troy and Abed refuse, but only because Jeff doesn’t have the hats with him. Their friendship means so much that they actually remember where Jeff left the magical friendship hats two and a half days ago. Jeff leaves, and Annie relates to the camera that he stayed outside long enough to make them believe that he went to the dean’s office. But Jeff really walks back to the office. He imagines Troy’s hat to be a bit crumpled and Abed’s to be a little dusty. He fixes both before bringing them back, even though he’s alone. This most un-Winger of gestures shows how important Troy and Abed’s friendship is to everyone.
The resulting Troy and Abed Secret Handshake (TASH) is so awesome you want to stand up and cheer. Britta is given her redemption by immortalizing the moment on film (“accidentally, while trying to capture the light on a stack of nearby waffles”). Everyone is happy again. It was a satisfying episode displaying everything Community does right: subverting genre not because Dan Harmon went to film school, but because it’s funny, while keeping the characters at the forefront and the navel-gazing artistic arguments under the surface.
This week’s episode was decidedly less explosive than a paintball episode. More…soft and downy, if you will. While there are references to pretty every war ever—it’s a giant metaphor for the Civil War; no territory changes hands, like WWI; it’s completely pointless, like almost every war ever—it feels less like a war and more like twenty minutes of taking the piss out of Ken Burns. All due respect to Burnsy, but it’s high comedy.
The documentary takes itself way too seriously, Burns-style, by reading aloud text messages (emoticons included), facebook status updates with subsequent likes, bad college poetry, and describing a reality show that’s no fun to watch on time delay because then you’d be the last to know what happens. There are few action shots—the episode relies on plodding voiceover, camera stills, and talking heads.
The documentary’s humor comes from taking all of the characters at face value: Troy and Abed are viewed as great tacticians. Jeff finds a “leading role” and delivers a rousing speech (to both sides), but is humanized by being completely unable to mediate Troy and Abed’s conflict until the end. Annie opens a care center. Shirley is the kind of ass-kicker into which you can only develop if you’re the mother of two, but again, you feel sorry that she’s kept at school and away from her husband and children for another meaningless, barely-remembered community college conflict. Only two characters are really viewed with contempt: Britta, a much-maligned war photographer (“unfortunately for Britta and millions of photographers like her, just because something is black and white does not make it good) and…
Pierce Watch: Pierce is initially described as “the dried-up heir to a moist towelette empire who would prove to be the dried-up heir to a moist towelete empire.” He initially joins Troy’s forces because Abed is weirder and more foreign, but switches sides because Shirley is given a higher rank by Troy. He suffers from erectile dysfunction. Then he designs a super-destructive secret weapon, which just him as a giant white pillowy blob of inhuman mess destroying everything in his path. It’s a physical manifestation of Pierce himself since The Great Community Return.
The episode’s biggest strength, as with all of Community’s classics, is how well it treats its characters. Will the show rely on cliché stereotypes and become little more than a Mad TV sketch, or will it explore who these people are as human beings and make the viewer give a shit? Well, Fat Neil reinvents himself as Real Neil With Pipes of Steel, a nighttime radio DJ. Leonard’s nickname “Bucket of Guts” is awesome. Chang (“rumored to be literally psychotic”) finally gets to unleash his Kiddie Corps, or “Changlourious Basterds.” Dean Pelton is typically dean-y, saying that the fact that the Guinness World Records rep isn’t coming is a “colossal waste of two and a half days,” never once mentioning the actual pillow fight leading to mass truancy. I wonder what it’s like being a professor at Greendale (when you’re not banging Jeff Winger, that is)? So the answer is yes, the show loved its characters here. Except for Pierce and Britta.
The climax is even better. Troy and Abed can’t stop pillow fighting…because they’ve declared their friendship dead and hitting each other with pillows will be the last thing they ever do together. It’s adorable. Jeff tries to bring up the magical friendship hats he made in the dean’s office earlier in the episode. Troy and Abed refuse, but only because Jeff doesn’t have the hats with him. Their friendship means so much that they actually remember where Jeff left the magical friendship hats two and a half days ago. Jeff leaves, and Annie relates to the camera that he stayed outside long enough to make them believe that he went to the dean’s office. But Jeff really walks back to the office. He imagines Troy’s hat to be a bit crumpled and Abed’s to be a little dusty. He fixes both before bringing them back, even though he’s alone. This most un-Winger of gestures shows how important Troy and Abed’s friendship is to everyone.
The resulting Troy and Abed Secret Handshake (TASH) is so awesome you want to stand up and cheer. Britta is given her redemption by immortalizing the moment on film (“accidentally, while trying to capture the light on a stack of nearby waffles”). Everyone is happy again. It was a satisfying episode displaying everything Community does right: subverting genre not because Dan Harmon went to film school, but because it’s funny, while keeping the characters at the forefront and the navel-gazing artistic arguments under the surface.
Friday, April 06, 2012
Punk'd: The Smartest, Dumbest Show on Television
The year was 2003 and Ashton Kutcher was riding on high on the success of That 70's Show. He brought us a hidden camera prank show that pranked a bunch of his celebrity friends. It also introduced us to the likes of Dax Shepard and the guy from the League on FX. It was a hit! Who didn't want to watch celebrities lose their shit and beat up little kids, even if it came at the cost of watching Ashton Kutcher delight in how much better he presumed he was than everyone else.
Punk'd is now back and although the sheen is now off the nuances of punking celebrities, the show still manages to bring in decent ratings two weeks into its revival. Punk'd is still beyond the pale of an intelligent TV program and this was obviously an attempt to boost some life into "original" MTV programming after the failures of THIS and THIS and MUSIC IN GENERAL. However, they were at least smart enough to get a new guest host every week to punk their friends. After the first viewing of episode 1, I was about to rage on how Justin Bieber could have that many friends to punk. Luckily, MTV brings in Bam Margera and Hayden Panittiere (you might be asking if she is still a celebrity. The answer is a resounding no) out of the bullpen to punk their friends in future episodes. Although this raises new questions: Is Bam Margera friends with Tyler the Creator or Ronnie from Jersey Shore? Why does Justin Bieber have every starlet's phone number? Will Tyler the Creator stab someone?
The inherent problem with the new Punk'd is that I hate every celebrity ever. Perhaps I'm no longer in the demographic that worships everything a twinkly eyed teen does, but let's analyze episode 1.
Bieber is called in and the first 3 minutes is Bieber in a control room (shot TMZ style, for extra douchebaggery) thinking of which of his friends he can punk. He calls up Taylor Swift who just happens to be available and in the same exact area as him and they plan to meet up under the pretense that she is going to work on his new album with (for) him. She even brings a guitar!!!! However, I am inclined to believe this is fake. She provides the "I'm shocked, people like me" look the entire segment. She marvels at how big the house is, how blue the water is outside and finally when she gets punked the eyes are as big as saucers. Either she is the most emotionally destroyed celebrity since Britney Spears, or she's putting on a show. Since she has all her hair left, I'm gonna guess this was fake. Also, as usual, she doesn't question why 3 cameramen are around? Perhaps Bieber and Swift are at the level of celebrity where they just expect to constantly be on camera. Justin.TV time to switch up your content.
The second person Bieber "chooses" is Rob Dyrdek who is 20 years older than Bieber and just happens to be an MTV celebrity who does a Tosh.0 ripp off show as well as a Jackass type show: MTV - Your Home For Original Programming! So if we just forget that there is no way these two are friends AND that MTV is obviously trying to get it's own celebrities we can concentrate on the punk. About 30 seconds in Dyrdek says "it's too well lit in here, am I on punk'd?" There have been failed punkings before, but I feel like MTV should not put this segment in the first episode back. Here's a new show where we punk celebs with a 50% success rate! Bieber than magically calls in Sean Kingston who is presumably waiting off camera behind the bushes. Kingston is not as smart as Dyrdek and falls for the punking.
I then turn off the TV. Apparently Miley Cyrus gets punked in the last segment but it would only be worth watching if Bieber tattooed Selena Gomez's face on Miley's. Ya Punk'd Miley!
Punk'd is now back and although the sheen is now off the nuances of punking celebrities, the show still manages to bring in decent ratings two weeks into its revival. Punk'd is still beyond the pale of an intelligent TV program and this was obviously an attempt to boost some life into "original" MTV programming after the failures of THIS and THIS and MUSIC IN GENERAL. However, they were at least smart enough to get a new guest host every week to punk their friends. After the first viewing of episode 1, I was about to rage on how Justin Bieber could have that many friends to punk. Luckily, MTV brings in Bam Margera and Hayden Panittiere (you might be asking if she is still a celebrity. The answer is a resounding no) out of the bullpen to punk their friends in future episodes. Although this raises new questions: Is Bam Margera friends with Tyler the Creator or Ronnie from Jersey Shore? Why does Justin Bieber have every starlet's phone number? Will Tyler the Creator stab someone?
The inherent problem with the new Punk'd is that I hate every celebrity ever. Perhaps I'm no longer in the demographic that worships everything a twinkly eyed teen does, but let's analyze episode 1.
Bieber is called in and the first 3 minutes is Bieber in a control room (shot TMZ style, for extra douchebaggery) thinking of which of his friends he can punk. He calls up Taylor Swift who just happens to be available and in the same exact area as him and they plan to meet up under the pretense that she is going to work on his new album with (for) him. She even brings a guitar!!!! However, I am inclined to believe this is fake. She provides the "I'm shocked, people like me" look the entire segment. She marvels at how big the house is, how blue the water is outside and finally when she gets punked the eyes are as big as saucers. Either she is the most emotionally destroyed celebrity since Britney Spears, or she's putting on a show. Since she has all her hair left, I'm gonna guess this was fake. Also, as usual, she doesn't question why 3 cameramen are around? Perhaps Bieber and Swift are at the level of celebrity where they just expect to constantly be on camera. Justin.TV time to switch up your content.
The second person Bieber "chooses" is Rob Dyrdek who is 20 years older than Bieber and just happens to be an MTV celebrity who does a Tosh.0 ripp off show as well as a Jackass type show: MTV - Your Home For Original Programming! So if we just forget that there is no way these two are friends AND that MTV is obviously trying to get it's own celebrities we can concentrate on the punk. About 30 seconds in Dyrdek says "it's too well lit in here, am I on punk'd?" There have been failed punkings before, but I feel like MTV should not put this segment in the first episode back. Here's a new show where we punk celebs with a 50% success rate! Bieber than magically calls in Sean Kingston who is presumably waiting off camera behind the bushes. Kingston is not as smart as Dyrdek and falls for the punking.
I then turn off the TV. Apparently Miley Cyrus gets punked in the last segment but it would only be worth watching if Bieber tattooed Selena Gomez's face on Miley's. Ya Punk'd Miley!
Wednesday, April 04, 2012
Short Stories With Tragic Endings
I was stopped at a red light about to get on the highway. I looked in my rear view mirror and saw a woman - approximately 55 and what I assumed to be her son of 20. I hope this was their relationship, there should be no other reason for a woman of this age to hang out with a boy so young. She was smoking a cigarette and he was smoking a bowl. He rolled down his window, dumped his bowl out onto the street and then repacked it and began to smoke. His mother had no noticeable reaction as he blew smoke back into the car. The light turned green and they followed me onto the highway. I proceeded to slow down to a crisp 25 MPH to allow them to pass. I can only imagine how reckless a driver the mother might be when she allows her son to smoke weed in front of her and in a car.
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