There are a lot of things I wish I could say about “For a Few Paintballs More,” the second half of Community’s second season finale. I wish I could say it was a perfect complement to “A Fistful of Paintballs,” that it cemented this finale as a step above last season’s “Modern Warfare,” and that it was the perfect capstone to a second season that built upon the promises of the first to become one of the great comedic television series. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t be true. It’s not that this second half ruins everything, in fact it was probably a lot more “fun” where the first half was more tightly focused on emotions. There’s a lot to love, but everything feels easier to earn, and for about the fourth time throughout this second season, it builds an emotionally complicated situation with Pierce, only to wimp out and find a way to diffuse it that confronts none of the issues at hand. But, despite those disappointments, it manages to just about pull off the impossible, and finish off a fantastic season as arguably the best comedy on television.
Over at the Onion A.V. Club, TV editor Todd VanDerWerff wrote an article in the middle of the television season about how Glee and Community are far more similar than fans of either show would like to believe. While I don’t agree with the entire article, my favorite part of this thesis is how both shows have a nugget of sadness at its core. Community spent a lot of time this season teasing out these emotional undertones, then releasing all the tension in big bursts. First in “Mixology Certification” while revealing a bit of Troy’s past, then “Abed’s Uncontrollable Christmas” with Abed’s emotional breakdown, and then “Intermediate Documentary Filmmaking” which brought all of Pierce’s villainy to a head, and he was punished, but then forgiven in the next episode after going to rehab. I’ve heard several people note the ways in which Community can be construed as a live-action Springfield from The Simpsons, and I think the most important similarity is that although there are episodes of great emotions depth and sadness, the show tends to act as though those changes have only a minor effect on episodes going forward.
Okay, now it sounds like I didn’t like the episode, which just isn’t true. It’s still fantastic. As a comedy, it’s great. Instead of playing against each other, the students of Greendale have to unite against the evil forces of City College and win the paintball war for their school. The funniest moments are when the characters take little swipes at each other, like Jeff and Troy’s quips while trying to take control of the ragtag remaining students, as well as a hilarious reappearance for Magnitude. Instead of focusing on Annie, or any one character, the larger focus is on Greendale as an entity, preserving the school against outside aggression, which only aids to build onto an already strong mythology for the show. With the Star Wars stuff, it’s great to see that instead of a full-fledged parody, there are only hints of similarity, like Abed co-opting the Han Solo persona before Jeff falls into it, and the Stormtrooper appearance of the City College soldiers.
There are two pretty obvious complaints to make about this episode when comparing it to the great strengths of the show over the course of its second season. First, it abandons the incredibly strong spaghetti western theme in favor of a Star Wars-meets-war-movie format. Paintball as a western helped the show plumb emotional depths, zero in on Annie as the audience lens to the ever-changing world, and allowed for some great comedic moments, such as Troy’s first appearance in a costume from Blazing Saddles or the surprisingly effective use of flashback. By combining war movies with Star Wars, it feels a bit like the whole isn’t the sum of its parts.
The second complaint is all about how the show handles Pierce’s emotionally difficult outbursts, dating back to the hidden trampoline episode “Aerodynamics of Gender” where Pierce breaks his legs, leading to his pill addiction. At every turn, the show diffused the high emotional tension from Pierce through some small, slightly comedic explanation, and then went about its business until the actions built up too far once again. This cycle started all the way back in season one, but for the first two-thirds Pierce just seemed like the same old unexplainable villain. That is of course until the brilliant third act which manages to tie up a great deal of loose ends, and let Pierce drift off out of the study room content in his own decision. It’s not a cliffhanger on the level of something like Breaking Bad, or even as far out of left field as Jeff and Annie kissing at the end of the first season. It’s another path opening up for the show to walk down, and the choice of whether or not the group tries to get Pierce back, or he fades into the background is compelling enough because the study group ensemble is so strong that we as an audience care deeply about them, or at least I do.
At the end of the first season, the show had just started to figure out how it could exploit its cast of characters to comment on beloved genres and sitcom formulas while mining an incredible depth of its characters. Jeff’s vanity, Abed’s mental fragility, Shirley’s family life, Annie’s trust, and Pierce’s jealousy and manipulation have been on full display at various points in the season, teased out in complex fashion instead of held out for the audience to take like a pill. Only Britta suffered from the refocus on genre commentary instead of the Jeff-centric romantic plot, but even she got some featured episodes. Community spent the year growing from the story of Jeff Winger descending into community college into the story of the study group navigating the zany, Springfield-like world of Greendale together, but that bitter lining of sadness and evil actions from Pierce raise the show to another level altogether. Seeing the show back off that
Looking back over the past nine months, I never expected Community to fire on all cylinders this many times. From the best religious episode in a religion-heavy week of television (“Messianic Myths and Ancient People”), hands-down fantastic Halloween and Christmas episodes (“Epidemiology” and “Abed’s Uncontrollable Christmas”), and a unique twist on the “bottle episode” (“Cooperative Calligraphy”), to the bar episode, the Dungeons & Dragons episode, the My Dinner With Andre parody, the mockumentary, the clip show, and now what essentially amounts to a sequel to the fan-favorite episode of the series – all of these are stone-cold classics, any of which I would watch if they came on in syndication down the line. That many highlights, coupled with deepened characters, believable friendships, and a world that has its own logic and rules shows just how far Community came in its sophomore season. At this point, there’s nothing left to do but trust that the people running the show know what they’re doing, and wait to enjoy what they come up with next.
Final Grade (of the entire finale): A-
Season Grade: A
Other Notes:
“Why would someone who gets paid to do things be at Greendale?”
“But if you need to explain it to your men, I understand.”
“You haven’t seen how mean this dean can be-ean.”
“The floor recognizes Magnitude.”
“I’m calling dibs on the Han Solo role before Jeff slouches into it by default.”
“Those guys are ballers, yo. I hope you like getting balled.”
“Our sperm counts are higher… EVEN IN OUR WOMEN.”
“…which I will have rigged using my super plumbing skills…”
“Now we have the tactical advantage of the knowledge that Jeff Winger wants to be a ballerina and has the Achilles heel of… wieners.”
“Everyone look alive. Leonard, good enough.”
“There is a place that we will all see each other again, and that is Denny’s.”
“Denny’s is for winners.”
“Sequels are almost always disappointing.”
“I’ve seen this behavior before. In cats. My cats.”
“In 5, 4, 3, 2…”