“Why I laugh?” -H. Simpson
by Stephen Simons
I’m not a Parks and Rec fan. Oops . . . Did you hear that? It was the sound of half the readers of this post suddenly turning hostile.
I tried to be a fan. Maybe, only because I watched a YouTube video of Ron Swanson quotes and decided I must be missing something brilliant. Maybe because some very good friends think it is the funniest thing on TV (since The Office, to which it is heir). But every time I tried to get into the show I must have picked dud episodes to watch, because I never got hooked. I think Ron Swanson fans are missing the big joke.
The big joke is that Ron Swanson – manly, meat-eating, anti-government, outdoors-man Ron Swanson – was originally intended to be just one of the many fringe-kook characters. But fans glommed on to him and made him, arguably, the most popular character in the show. Most people watching Parks and Rec apparently identify with him (albeit in humorous ways). That means that they put themselves in his shoes and consider life surrounded by all the other weirdos. Now that’s irony.
I didn’t know any of this at first, however. All I knew was that hardcore fans of Parks and Rec didn’t like or didn’t get Community. I could be elitist or dismissive and alienate even more readers by suggesting that maybe Parks and Rec fans just refuse to accept that The Office is gone and cling to a familiar form of humor the same way a zombie clings to life. I could elucidate that where Parks and Rec feels pre-packaged and clichéd — mind-numbingly predictable from its episodic plots to its seasonal arc — Community feels fresh, self-aware, unrestrained, and yes, even a little chaotic. I could surmise that it is because of its freshness and chaos that it struggled.
But using words like “surmise” and “elucidate” would make me sound pretentious. And mocking fans of one show hardly engenders in them the desire to convert to another show . . . dummy. My arrogance would only work the effect of hardening people in their resolutions. So I won’t say any of that.
The jury will disregard all the inflammatory statements that just persuaded them (or made them hate me).
I guess I just have to admit that Community clicked with me on a fundamental level. It refused to be confined by the imaginary boundaries constructed at its inception. While it is a show about a study group at a community college, if the creators want to do an episode where a civil war breaks out on campus over blanket forts, they’ll do it. If a Law and Order episode seems like a good idea, no problem. If they want to do an episode where the campus becomes a post-apocalyptic wasteland, littered with trash and wounded, paint-spattered students, they can do that. The writer, Dan Harmon, does what’s funny and what works with each story. If the best place to put that story is in a community college, it will be a “down to earth” episode of Community. But, if the best place to tell the story is in a KFC™ RV decked out to look like a space rocket, they can do that too.;
I think people like knowing what to laugh at almost as much as they like laughing. Take Arrested Development as an example. How many people watched two or three episodes of that show before moving on? It was almost cancelled in its first season and barely clung on for one-and-a-half more. However, now, if you ask people to list the funniest TV shows of the last decade it ranks near the top (like here, and here, and here). Ironically, what I love best about Community creates the biggest hurdle most people have in becoming fans — anything can happen in a given episode.
So what do most people love about Community once they do get into it? Well, Jeff and Britta if you’re one type of girl and Jeff and Annie if you are another type of girl. But for most people, it’s Troy and Abed.
Troy, played by Donald Glover, started season one as a high school football star, who struggles with his identity at a community college where the trophy case only has one trophy labeled “Most Valued Customer; Henderson Trophy Cases,” and the nicest thing anyone has ever said about their basketball team is that it is “a little gay.” Abed, played by Danny Pudi, started season one as a Spock-like personality who related to people through the filter of movies and TV shows, sometimes to the point that it was unclear how much he thought he was living a real life, and how much he thought he was a character on a TV show about a community college.
As Troy’s personality was stripped away to a simple-minded child in a man’s body, filled with wonder at . . . almost everything around him, he and Abed began to develop a relationship that really became the core of the show. It started with their ‘kickers,’ the encore scene during the closing credits—the most well-known being their Spanish rap. In these short bits, which are akin to The Office’s cold opens, Troy and Abed do silly, meaningless things, many of which appear to be ad-libbed, most of which were a great punch line with which to end an episode (Just a few examples). These bits created a narrative of a growing friendship that was so innocent and sweet that some watching the show (and characters in the show) would assume they were gay, or soon would be (spoiler alert, they never are). I haven’t even mentioned the other characters or actors who are all good (to varying degrees) and are all used expertly by Harmon, which is ok, because part of the joy of Community is being surprised by character growth. And, yes, Troy leaves the show in season five, but for me, the show died after season three.
Finally, the subtle, but almost non-stop, wit mixed in with the heavy-handed, overly-silly bits means that even when watching an episode for the third time you still find fresh laughs (Oh yeah, this is one of the five shows I’ve watched multiple times). I could go on and on about the running gags, but again, it’s just so much more enjoyable to slowly become aware of them yourself.
And this gets me to the problem I have in recommending Community. It’s the same problem I had in recommending Arrested Development. When I told all my friends to watch Arrested Development they did, starting in season 2, and they thought I was crazy. The show was crazy. And season two only upped the insanity. That’s why I’m careful in recommending shows, and why I love our ability to watch almost anything online.
You see, there is a possibility that I could get hooked into Parks and Rec. There is a chance that I saw the worst episodes and that is why I don’t like it. And there is that same risk for Community.
Will you like Community? Well, definitely don’t start with season four. I don’t even like season four. Shows fade! Writers change! Season one of Heroes is worth a view, but only season one! And (I hate to admit this) I’m not sure I would have lasted through all of season one of Community if I had started from the first episode. My advice is to watch the paintball episode from the end of season one. If you like that episode, even a little, you’ve experienced much of what Community is all about.
Now, if I can put the arrogant cap back on for a second and look into the future, I do feel pretty confident about one thing. Many people who “don’t get” Community now, will come around when enough peers tell them it is hilarious. In 10 years, I predict Community will be on people’s top 10 list of comedies in the early 21st century.
