Community Season 1, Episode 3 “Introduction to Film”
Written by Tim Hobert & Jon Pollack
Directed by Anthony Russo
Aired October 1, 2009 on NBC
Like “Spanish 101”, “Introduction to Film” feels like a sitcom trying to find a place between the multi-camera classics it references, and the single-camera comedy movement it found itself squarely in the middle of in 2009. Like many early Community episodes, “Introduction to Film” is a pastiche of ideas and stories, all of which are operating on their own individual frequencies as the show begins to explore the space it has created for itself – and while its third episode certainly doesn’t tie everything together neatly, an incredibly strong third act once again displays a different kind of comedy altogether lurking just underneath its surface.
The most traditionally sitcom-y story of “Introduction to Film”, of course, is Troy’s feminine sneeze – which is little more than an excuse to pair off Troy and Pierce in an early episode. Pierce teaching Troy to develop a series of fake, masculine series to establish his power is, like Abed’s meta reflections in the previous two episodes, a way to subtly introduce us to the internal conflicts facing the former high school star – namely, his absolute crisis of identity, which has already found its way to the surface in the form of the letterman jacket he wears for his first two weeks of college.
To this point, Community has really only used Troy and Pierce for humor; it’s why, even though their story touches on their shared insecurities, their story feels like it lacks a little bit of heft (its silly premise notwithstanding). However, as Troy begins to project a different version of himself around campus, intimidating Shirley rather than amusing her, it begins to touch on the larger themes of identity and purpose of the episode more apparent in the foregrounded stories of Jeff and Abed – and though a story about sneezing was never going to reach the emotional pitch at the episode’s core, it works well enough as a light nod towards the show’s deeper ideas, even without tapping into the gravitas future episodes would explore with each character.
Jeff’s story falls somewhere in between Troy and Abed’s, and by committing to neither lane, is all the lesser for it; without the propulsive comedic energy of guest star John Michael Higgins (as Professor Whitman), Jeff’s arc to “seize the day ” is the weakest story of these three opening episodes. In his attempt to take the easiest route possible, Jeff signs up for a class where students are not encouraged to learn, but to live life in pursuit of their best selves (as someone who went to private college in the mid-2000s, I can confirm things like this actually occurred).
In a thoroughly unexpected turn, Jeff’s decision backfires, sending him spiraling into manic obsession over convincing Professor Whitman to be somebody he isn’t; he wears costumes, stages uncomfortable stages with teenage girls, and generally goes out of his way to hoodwink himself into a passing grade (with the appropriately sitcom-y stakes of his grade being decided in the class’s first week). Whitman sees through it, of course, and in the process, lets the writer’s room present the audience with Jeff’s core journey of the series, in rather obvious fashion:
“What do you mean, Jeff? What does your life mean?”
Though “Introduction to Film” approaches this idea clumsily with Jeff, it continues to tease this idea with other characters, through Troy’s attempts to change everyone’s perception of him, and Shirley’s quest to change her perception of self. It’s a brief moment, almost an aside in Jeff’s story, but Shirley blurting out the reasons why she ended up at community college – because she left her husband and wanted to start a business, to build a life of her own – is a potent preview of what’s to come later in the episode with Abed and his father, another in a series of moments in the first three half-hours where characters challenge their own archetypes, their perceptions reflecting the stereotypes of community college attendees; high school burnouts, failed athletes, single mothers, bored geriatrics – you see the trend.
Shirley’s abrupt reveal is a nod towards the episode’s central story, one examining the effects of getting involved in the lives of others – and baked within that, a deeper, much more personal story about a father and son finding solace in each other’s sorrow. With it, comes some of Community‘s larger ambitions; though Jeff Winger is certainly our entryway into the world of Greendale Community College, but it is Abed who forms the show’s referential nature, cinematic ambitions – and most importantly, its emotional reflections on humanity, filtered through someone who only relates to the world around him through media.
Abed is the core of Community; and though this is the most abstract version of that expression, it still shows an incredible, unique ability to deliver incredibly poignant reflections on what makes us human, and how we find spaces to connect with other people – who, in most cases, are just as broken and fucked up as we are. Over time, Community would reinforce the audience’s connection to its characters and ideas through Abed’s extensive knowledge of pop culture – in “Introduction to Film”, that meta commentary comes from Abed’s own film, which he creates after Britta encourages him to spur his future in the family’s falafel business in pursuit of his true dream (and even agrees to pay for a film class).
At first, Abed’s story is more focused on Jeff and Britta, as they debate whether people should get involved in the lives of their friends and colleagues – and though Abed and his father’s turmoil reinforces how both of their philosophies hold some truth, the episode really shifts in its second half to be about Abed, a son alienated from the world and his family – one whose idiosyncrasies and neurotypical ways seem to pull the world farther away from him, with only shared cultural touchpoints as a place where he can connect with those around him.
Over time, Community would take a long, hard look at Abed Nadir and the complexities of his approach to the world; in “Introduction to Film”, it focuses that attention on his “surrogate” parents (themselves playing a role Abed massages them into, so he can use them for his microbudget short film) and his biological father – whose only significant appearance in the series is an incredibly powerful one, forced to confront the harsh reality of Abed’s sense of responsibility for his mother leaving the family.
It’s an incredibly heartbreaking scene; and one where Community pulls back from its references, drops its infectious score, and lets its characters sit in the painful silence between father and son. Even more fascinating is how personal the moment is; Abed and his father speak to each other in Arabic, which leaves Jeff and Britta completely out of the loop on father and son’s shared sadness, as they try to reconcile a hole within their family they both feel responsible for.
Once the jarring tonal shift settles, the third act of “Introduction to Film” does a pretty good job at resolving Abed and Troy’s stories – unfortunately, a contrived Britta/Jeff kiss resolves Jeff of having to really look himself in the mirror, in the ways Community so clearly wants to challenge its protagonist (and audience). Her bailing Jeff out is appropriate, of course – what good character journey resolves in the third episode? – but the show’s attempts to build in romantic tension have felt a bit half-hearted, mostly forgotten in the episode’s story, except when it can serve as a punchline.
Regardless, “Introduction to Film” is a pretty strong proof of concept for Community; it’s also a reminder of the value of a sitcom going through the motions in its early episodes, testing out different character pairings and rhythms to see what works and feeds into the episode’s central thesis. In its third half hour, Community was clearly still figuring out how all those pieces fit together – but with an electric, impassioned third act, “Introduction to Film” is already showing audiences there’s more going on here than just college hijinks and era-appropriate cynicism.
Grade: B
Other thoughts/observations:
- Random fact: Tim Hobert’s brother, Michael, was Lonnie on Scrubs.
- Professor Whitman’s opening quote – “Death… so called, is a thing that makes men weep” is from the Lord Byron poem “Don Juan”. The poem, which is in the public domain, is about life, what we make of it, and how we become consumed by our past and fears of the unknown. Fitting!
- Abed – “9/11 was pretty much the 9/11 of the falafel business.”
- Semi-related: such a post-9/11 storytelling decision to tease religious panic as the reason for Abed’s conflict with his father. Instead, it avoids the trope and makes their conflict incredibly personable and relatable.
- Troy: “How about I pound you like a boy that didn’t come out right.”
- Jeff: “This is no way to teach accounting!”
- One can feel Anthony Russo behind the camera this episode, from the opening shot to the incredibly effective, dramatic framing of Professor Whitman when he’s on screen.
- Real lack of Annie again in this episode, except reminding us she still has a crush on Troy.
- Whitman and Jeff arguing is great: “Dreams are for sleeping.” “You don’t know that.” “It’s clinically proven.” “So is polio!”
- “I don’t want to be your father.” “That’s perfect, you already know your lines.”
- “Had I not already cried at the sunrise, I would be crying right now.”
- I love the joke where it is revealed Jeff got Britta and Abed’s father to show up by telling them, respectively, that Ravi Shankar and Weezer were doing a concert on campus.
- Up next: A man named Vaughn appears in “Social Psychology”.