Making Lasting Friendships Over Three and Half Seasons (And a Movie?)

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.

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. 

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.