I made it only a few seconds into the first episode of “2 Broke Girls,” one of the most critically acclaimed shows of the fall. It wasn’t the immature, sex-obsessed guys or the snarky, intent-on-those-guys-not-having-sex-with-her girl that made me lower the quick ax (although those cliched elements didn’t help). It was the laugh track.
I haven’t been able to watch a show with a laugh track in more than a decade. Although I liked “Seinfeld” when it was on (and still appreciate it, although I have little urge to watch the reruns), non-laugh-track sitcoms like the British “Office,” “Arrested Development” and “Undeclared” (and even dramedies like “Gilmore Girls” and “Freaks and Geeks”) made me appreciate how much funnier something is when it’s NOT followed by canned laughter. (“The Office,” in fact, brilliantly went to the opposite extreme from a laugh track: The Awkward Pause.)
It’s a stereotype, but I think it’s kinda true: Comedies without laugh tracks are smarter, and aimed at more discerning viewers. Indeed, that’s part of the turnoff of “2 Broke Girls”: I don’t need to be told when to laugh; shame on them for thinking so little of me. Furthermore, canned sitcom laughter doesn’t reflect anyone’s actual sense of humor. Human beings don’t guffaw wildly at an easy joke referencing genitals. More likely — if the joke is timed well, thus making up for its obviousness — a person will softly chuckle or be silently amused.
Thursday, either by unspoken agreement or random chance, is the night of smart, “with it” comedies that trust people to find their own sense of humor. Within that framework, there’s quite a variety, encompassing the workplace goofiness of “Parks and Recreation,” the more mean-spirited “The Office” (which I dropped from my schedule this season, although I’ve been told I was too quick to do so), the crass absurdity of “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia,” and the social-commentary-mixed-with-incredible-stupidity of the relaunched “Beavis and Butt-head.”
Also on this list is “Community,” (7 p.m. Central Thursdays on NBC) which is such a niche show that NBC plans to pull it from the schedule due to low ratings. I had watched the pilot episode a couple seasons back, but it made no impression on me, so I dropped it (I called the writing “flat” and “lazy”). I’ve watched a few episodes this season at the urging of my pal Matt; it’s more vibrant now than in the pilot episode, but I still don’t quite like it.
“Community” is at the opposite end of the spectrum from shallow comedies like “2 Broke Girls” or “Whitney” or “The Big Bang Theory.” Although preferable to the grating of a laugh track, I find that a show at the other extreme misses the sweet spot, too.
On paper, I should totally like “Community.” It features a wonderful cross-section of humanity: A group of people who would never interact except for the fact that they all attend the same community college. And I appreciate the fact that — unlike pretty much every other show on TV — it is not overly concerned with romantic relationships. (It does have the sex-obsessed male, Pierce, but because he’s played by Chevy Chase, it’s more tolerable than usual.)
Also in the group is a successful-but-shady lawyer who has to go back to school when his scam is discovered, Jeff (Joel McHale); two emotionally stunted guys, Abed and Troy (Danny Pudi and Donald Glover); a girl who’s scared to try new things, Annie (Allison Brie); a religious nutjob, Shirley (Yvette Nicole Brown); and Shirley’s opposite number, Britta (Gillian Jacobs). (The Shirley-Britta contrast — and the folly of having absolutist views on anything — is nicely accentuated when the pair picks up a hitchhiker. First, he seems to be spiritual, pleasing Shirley. Then he seems to be moralistic, pleasing Britta. Then he’s a Jesus freak, pleasing Shirley. Then he claims to BE Jesus, horrifying Shirley. Then it turns out he plans to kill and eat them, horrifying both Britta and Shirley.)
I find Shirley’s affected, high-pitched voice annoying, Jeff and Britta are non-factors for me, and Annie … well, she’s really cute. I should be all about Abed and Troy, since they have the admirable (but socially rejected) quality of just being who they are: Abed takes pride in his “Raiders of the Lost Ark” boulder-escape sculpture, and the duo uses their apartment’s second bedroom as a virtual reality room. When Annie moves in, they make her a fort out of blankets rather than giving up the VR room.
“Community’s” jokes are as hit-and-miss as on, say, “Parks and Recreation,” and they are generally more absurd. The jokes are weirder — and arguably smarter — but also colder and more tossed off.
I don’t dislike the characters, but I also don’t feel for them. For example, the most recent episode found the gang making a TV commercial promoting the college. The perfectionist director (Jim Rash as the dean, who is also an aggressively sexual gay man, and an annoying character in anything more than small doses) re-shoots Britta and Troy hugging for 12 hours. By the end, they go insane, shirking away from touching, let alone hugging. That particular joke worked well enough, but meanwhile, the idea of Jeff morphing into the dean simply because he is wearing a bald cap didn’t ring true. And the story of Pierce demanding a trailer didn’t go anywhere.
I can’t argue with the premises, many of which are vignette-driven: An episode of Halloween stories acted out, an episode where one thing changes and alternate endings ensue, and an episode where everyone tries to figure out which one is the “crazy” one based on anonymous test results.
A point in “Community’s” favor is that it subscribes to the “Seinfeld” notion that sitcoms shouldn’t be “about” anything (unless you count minutiae). The problem is that the show’s nothingness cancels out its something-ness — the potentially vibrant exploration of an oddball mix of friends. “Community” simultaneously has too much and too little on its plate.
I like to think about “Community” more than I like to watch it. For the sake of comparison, the humor in “Beavis and Butt-head” is much more obvious, yet I find it a lot funnier and certainly more pointed. “Parks and Recreation” isn’t quite as clever as “Community,” but it has a sweeter side — it’s easier to like. “Always Sunny” takes “stupid weird” to the same extremes that “Community” takes “smart weird,” but while its lows are lower than “Community’s,” its highs are higher.
The bottom line, I guess, is that while “Community” is worth a wry smile, I don’t find it outright funny.
Maybe a laugh track would help. (Just kidding.)
Comments
As John can attest, I love Community more than any other comedy on TV at the moment, even the spectacular Parks and Rec. I am very happy you were willing to give it another shot, and I understand why it still doesn’t quite click with you.
It is difficult for me to explain my love for this show and the band of misfits at its center. Community is more self-selecting in terms of its audience than Parks and Rec, and I see it as a testament to how bad things are for NBC that it has even made it this far in its run with such poor ratings.
Even among its base of devotees, each season seems to push away another section of fans (notwithstanding the recent announcement that it would be pulled from the midseason lineup, which seemed to stir a passionate response even from those who had stopped keeping up with the show week-to-week). Like X-Files’ “Monster of the Week” vs. “storyline” episodes, Community episodes tend to split into two camps: “high concept” and “mundane.” And fans of one brand of Community seem to have a hard time with the other.
For example, the back half of season two was filled with the “high concept” type, which can run from a fake clip show that felt like a classic sitcom filler but actually showed us shots from interesting adventures we never saw to an episode-long homage to a particular pop culture staple, such as this last week’s riff on “Apocalypse Now.”
Fans who responded to the concept episodes seem disappointed at many of the show’s efforts to just tell a regular story about the characters, like the one with Annie’s move or the episodes where the debate who is in or out or should be let into the study group, and the first few episodes of season three admittedly felt a little lacking because they dealt with somewhat typical college/character fare rather than something as daring as a half hour game of Dungeons and Dragons or a multi-timeline gem where the writers get to have their cake and eat it too with all the characters.
I am of the opinion that Community needs to mix it up like it does or the concept episodes lose some of what makes them special, and I understand where people tuning in hoping for something bold and unique would be upset that they don’t get that every week, but I just think the writing and characters are always worth tuning in for.
To get 70-plus episodes of such a niche show is pretty incredible, so whatever happens from here, I’ll just enjoy that something like this was allowed to exist for as long as it has.# Posted By Another Matt | 11/21/11 1:11 PM
Thanks for the insight into why you like “Community.” It seems like we just disagree on whether it is funny or not. It’s kind of like my stance on “The Sixth Sense.” Was the twist great? Yes. Was the movie good? No, it was boring as hell. Is “Community” cleverly constructed and are the writers imaginative? Absolutely — maybe more so than any other comedy on TV at the moment. Is it funny? That’s where I struggle to say yes. It’s not as unfunny as a lazy laugh-track show, certainly, but I don’t find myself laughing at all, and sometimes episodes get so far off track that my mind wanders. I think, overall, “The Simpsons” and “Futurama” have smarter, more on-message humor, and some of their in-jokes or smart-people-jokes (if you will) make me do a spit-take if I’m drinking water at the moment. With “Community,” it’s more like “OK, that was an interesting effort. Now onto something that actually has some punch to it.” I guess that while our senses of humor are similar, we diverge at “Community.”# Posted By John Hansen | 11/21/11 3:38 PM