Community’s intrinsic nonsense is more charming than ever in lockdown

Western paintball episodes, smashed yams requiring a Law & Order investigation, seven timelines opened by the throw of a dice: Community is the show we need in lockdown.

More than any other, Community is the show we need most in lockdown

What makes for the perfect lockdown viewing? Is it: a mythical power struggle between nine families set alongside very powerful dragons and mildly powerful nudity? Or is it: an office-based mockumentary that follows the exploits (and fallout) of an incompetent boss? Or, is it: Italian-American mobsters wearing nice shirts? Orrrr, is it: the troubling tale of a man who in dire need of money turns to a life of drugs and crime, eventually having his morality and identity consumed while wearing a hat?

What makes for the perfect lockdown viewing?

No. It is none of the above. They’re classics, sure; incredible TV shows that capture you from the very first dragon, hijinks, shirt, RV. However, they’re too close to reality, contain too much moral judgement for our fragile lockdown minds to grapple with. Right now what we need is a distinct void of actuality, a nonsensical break from what is currently consuming us. A show that not only dazzles with scripting, but with casting, homages, plots and iconic characters, too. Plus, it’s nice to watch something new and especially refreshing, isn’t it?

Community offers us a break from the reality currently consuming us

Here, how about Community. Community is a show about a study group who attend a community college together. It was recently added to Netflix. It stars Donald Glover, Alison Brie, Jeff McHale, and Chevy Chase. It is written by Rick and Morty’s Dan Harmon and produced by the Russo Brothers (Avengers). And it does all of those things I mentioned, which you sometimes see great comedies do, but none execute it with the same ludicrous charm that Community does. 

Take the homages. Community rarely actually leaves its community college setting, but the narratives are so baked in conceptual nods it feels much more varied and larger than that, which is very fun in a unique way. The paintball episodes, for instance. In total there are four full paintball episodes, each with different themes, sometimes more than one. The best is definitely the first (Modern Espionage); a pastiche of the action genre. 

Community is worth watching purely for its ‘ludicrous charm’

The episode as a whole – scripting, characters, score, pacing – is so dedicated and earnest in its representation of action’s stereotypical melodrama, it feels as enjoyable and fresh as watching the very films it’s mimicking when you were a kid, but now laughing at them. This is probably most enjoyable in this one moment where Troy, better known as Childish Gambino, is met with Jeff who he previously thought was out of the game, or dead. Jeff unexpectedly enters the room, Troy takes a double take, doubts his eyes, a second passes and the score lifts an octave as he accepts that Jeff isn’t out of the game, laughing while saying his name and calling him a son of bitch. It’s a perfect moment because you hadn’t thought about how much action movies do this, but as it happens you think ah, of course. That happens all the time. and you laugh. It’s a brilliant moment of a brilliant show mocking a hackneyed genre. Throughout the episode, you forget this show hasn’t actually left the community college setup.

Throughout the episode, you forget this show hasn’t actually left the community college setup.

And then there’s the characters. They are great, have depth, and do – at times – feel like they could exist in a real world, which in comedies is rare. Individually they are distinct from one another in fun and natural ways, but the true greatness of them is realised when they are paired. It’s then they bring the best out of one another. You see this in other shows too, like Mac and Charlie in It’s Always, or Jim and Dwight in The Office. 

The best episode for this is Basic Lupine Urology. The set-up is investigating who maliciously smashed a yam, effectively ending someone else’s class project (getting a yam to bloom was the project). In the episode Annie’s tenacity forces Jeff to drop his usual sardonic charm, because he deeply admires and loves Annie. Troy and Abed are great and funny together as they always are (assuming a good cop, bad cop dynamic), but are hailed by Shirley’s fierce streak, which only sometimes comes out but is great when it does. And the other characters are brought in sparingly to spice up the plot. Ensembles rarely happen because one character takes the show (Scrubs), or strong duos are formed (Friends), but in Community the pairings change often and whoever is together, you see new and exciting sides of the characters. It keeps the show fresh from start to finish; the luxury of having such well-defined leads.

And look, I’m aware all these plots sound mad. But when the show gets too conceptual it remains grounded by truly tremendous writing. Like in Remedial Chaos Theory, an episode in which seven alternative times are opened by a roll of a dice deciding who goes to retrieve a pizza. Each timeline is explored and seven vastly different scenarios play out, one leading to the darkest (later explored) and also this hall-of-famer GIF. This episode won an Emmy for Outstanding Writing for a Comedy Series.

The show is different. I am not arguing it is better than The Office or It’s Always Sunny or Scrubs, but it is certainly more imaginative, imploring you to re-engage with a childlike state of joy. And right now, I think that makes it really, really important.