COMMUNITY: A School for Not-So-Gifted Youngsters

The saga of a ragtag group of student misfits at the undeniably subpar Greendale Community College has come to an end. For six seasons, pop culture symbols and references were filtered through the minds of the characters and delivered to viewers in ways sometimes bizarre, often ironic, but always offbeat and funny. It would be impossible to list all the references—and besides, I wouldn’t want to ruin the fun for those who haven’t yet discovered this brilliant show.

And what is Community, really? Its global debut was in 2009, and its arrival wasn’t a loud event. Rather, it was a small-scale phenomenon—modest, but present and meaningful. Created by the then relatively unknown Dan Harmon and cast mostly with young actors known from minor film roles or guest spots in TV shows. The only exception was an actor familiar to a wide audience from ’80s and ’90s comedies—Chevy Chase.

The premise is simple: a law firm discovers that young lawyer Jeff Winger (Joel McHale) lied about his academic credentials and fires him. In order to resume his legal career, he must quickly earn a bachelor’s degree. He enrolls at Greendale, the worst college in the area. Knowing someone on the faculty, he assumes getting the diploma will be a mere formality. In the meantime, he meets other students, including former activist and traveler Britta (Gillian Jacobs), whom Jeff sets out to score. To create a pretext for seeing her again, he invents a fake Spanish study group. The group soon also includes: a film and TV fanatic possibly on the autism spectrum, a boy of Polish-Palestinian descent, Abed (Danny Pudi); single Black mother Shirley (Yvette Nicole Brown); injured athlete Troy (Donald Glover); overachieving nerd with a complex, Annie (Alison Brie); and a longtime student and heir to a moist towelette fortune, Pierce (the aforementioned Chevy Chase).

This group, once formed, will spend their days slacking off, protesting, navigating imagined and real disasters, and engaging in all kinds of absurdities. In the background, the head of the school, Dean Pelton (Jim Rash, Oscar winner for the screenplay to The Descendants in 2012), appears frequently. He graces the group with important announcements—though somehow always in costume and flirting with Jeff (he’d rather jump into a Dalmatian outfit than admit his orientation). Also worth mentioning is Ben “Señor” Chang (played by The Hangover’s Ken Jeong), who begins as the students’ insufferable Spanish teacher. That’s the core cast, but guest appearances abound. Both students and faculty are portrayed by familiar faces from film and TV. Notable names include John Goodman, Jack Black, Malcolm McDowell, Betty White, and Breaking Bad’s Jonathan Banks (Mike Ehrmantraut). There’s no shortage of recognizable actors and fun facts—something for everyone.

The early episodes of the series were relatively conventional. Episode by episode, we got to know the stories of the group’s oddballs. The group’s headquarters was the study room, and we’d occasionally see classes and related matters. In this form, the show was funny, lighthearted, and full of sharp wit—but that’s about it. Jeff’s early attempts to woo Britta were merely a pretext for showcasing the diversity of the college and its peculiarities. Chevy Chase’s performance as the old student was a highlight—his lines soaked in absurdity, and he himself often became the butt of the joke. Viewers shared in the characters’ dilemmas—always presented with levity, though often touching on serious issues (Abed’s parents, Annie’s past, etc.). However, the writers’ wide range of ideas and offbeat humor began to shine with the second season. The characters had chemistry, viewers knew them and their backstories, and so the creators could dive fully into pop culture collage.

After a few relatively standard episodes, Community began devoting full episodes to reworking popular tropes, movie references, trivia, and cult TV series. With a ready-made canvas in the form of a campus where anything could happen, and a cast of characters (with consistent traits but flexible symbolism), the only limit was the creators’ imagination.

We get Halloween episodes where, due to incident X, character Y becomes infected and starts turning others into zombies. A recurring—and always successful—device is the paintball war taking place across the campus. A dream scenario for any student and a treasure trove of references to American (and not only) action, sci-fi, and western cinema. The fun in these episodes isn’t just in the plot—keen-eyed viewers will pick up on all the Easter eggs and winks to the audience. John McClane, Han Solo, Neo—these are just the most obvious incarnations. Turning the school into a massive pillow-and-blanket fort becomes not just another pop culture mashup, but also a shift in narrative style. While the paintball episodes focus on action, the fort episodes resemble CNN-style news reports, complete with eyewitness interviews. Political fiction and modern documentaries get their turn too.

In terms of each episode’s stylistic flexibility based on its theme, the creators don’t stop at camera and editing tricks. If an episode is centered on Christmas—an important holiday for Abed—it takes the form of a fairy tale, specifically stop-motion animation, with a claymation world. Fitting music enhances the mood—the episode becomes thoroughly festive. In other cases, clay gives way to plush toys or classic 2D animation.

One episode, exceptional on many levels, deserves mention. The characters gather in an apartment (names and context omitted to avoid spoilers). At one point, the intercom buzzes (pizza delivery), but no one wants to answer it. They decide to roll a die. Since Abed believes every roll creates an alternate timeline, we see seven versions of the evening—each significantly different. This episode is not only an editing masterpiece but a showcase of creativity from the already wildly imaginative writers. Each timeline has consequences, and the very existence of multiple versions carries meaning. There’s no shortage of similarly “detached” episodes, with each new adventure beyond campus offering fresh pop culture puzzles. Some elements are noticeable only on second or third viewing; others require brushing up on classic titles—but anyone, to some extent, will catch the clever references hidden in the script.

Despite the joy the show provided through its intertextuality, creativity, and fresh energy, it proved not especially profitable for NBC, which decided to end the series after six seasons. The oft-mentioned six seasons and the movie may not come true—though one never knows how things may turn out. Without a doubt, this series is worth watching. Like any such project, it has its ups and downs (for me, season four wasn’t particularly strong), but overall, it remains a clever, inventive, and hilarious way to spend your free time—not just on rainy days or as a remedy for a bad mood.