Community Season 1, Episode 1 “Pilot”
Written by Dan Harmon
Directed by Anthony Russo & Joe Russo
Aired September 17, 2009 on NBC
It’s incredible how muted and contained Community‘s first episode “Pilot” feels 15 years later; though the show’s incredibly deep ambitions wouldn’t truly surface until much later in the show’s first season, there are certainly hints of what’s to come buried in every creative facet of the iconic underdog sitcom. At first glance, it certainly appears Community arrived as a very different series than what it would become over its tumultuous 110 episode (and one as-of-yet unproduced film) run; but underneath what is already a really effective, intriguing sitcom pilot are the building blocks for the resonant, referential, and inquisitive series to follow.
Centered on Jeff Winger’s first day at Greendale Community College after being suspended for practicing law with a fake degree, “Pilot” disguises an incredibly technical pilot script under the surprisingly assured performance of Joel McHale, who accidentally assembles a Spanish study group as part of a ploy to get his classmate Britta’s attention. From the get go, Jeff makes no qualms about what he stands for; after ‘meeting’ excitable classmate Abed outside his Spanish class, it’s clear Jeff takes a monetary approach to life, talking about Abed’s “value” and convincing former client/professor Ian Duncan to somehow steal all the answers to all the tests in his classes.
As a former lawyer, and one with an obvious penchant for being deceitful, Jeff makes the perfect unreliable narrator to introduce us to the characters of Greendale Community College (which it expertly begins doing before we even meet Jeff, when the Dean makes a speech full of character cliches in the opening moments). After Abed assembles an actual study group out of Jeff’s fake one, he compulsively plans to immediately tear the group apart to chauvinistically win the favor of Spanish classmate Britta – and through this, Community begins to assemble the iconic pieces of its ensemble.
Once the episode’s slightly awkward first act is behind it, “Pilot” quickly settles in when it has all seven of its main characters in the library study room, after Duncan’s prescient warning that “cheaters never prosper”. It’s a fascinating sequence to watch in retrospect, in how it represents so much of what Community would excel at – deeply personal, uncomfortable character arcs wrapped in beautifully digestable pop culture references – but in an almost unrecognizable form, particularly comedically.
There’s a lot of banter in the episode’s second and third acts, as the episode firmly establishes the seating arrangement of its characters and immediately begins to explore a few interesting dynamics. Though a few characters, primarily Annie and Britta, aren’t offered a lot of room to expound on the cliches they’re introduced as, “Pilot” does a remarkable job in balancing its characters; from former jock Troy to geriatric stalwart Pierce and clearly neurodivergent Abed are all given hints of depth beyond their broad introductions (themselves playing on audience subjectivity), be it Abed’s clear desire to connect with someone, Troy’s exaggerated braggadocio, or Annie’s self-righteous hardheadedness (admonishing Shirley by assuming she left school to have children at a young age).
These elements are all filtered through Jeff, who clearly plans to take the easy way out – Duncan asks him as much, while blackmailing him for the keys to Jeff’s Lexus throughout the semester. If “Pilot” establishes one thing, it’s Jeff’s apathy with his own life, a nihilism that blatantly filters through his approach to human interaction, and his ability to spin inspiration out of absolute bullshit. Through Jeff, Community‘s pilot quietly establishes its pathos; being anything but brutally honest with yourself is a recipe for disaster – something Jeff clearly realizes when he steps on the Greendale campus, but something he’s obviously not willing to reconcile just yet, given he spends four minutes vamping about people’s inherent ability to humanize and connect with anything.
Jeff’s rejection of that sets the course for his character; ultimately, “Pilot” is a story about the possibility for redemption, about the commitment required to really, truly change and understand yourself as a human being. Even Jeff, who bullshits everyone in the entire world, has to be honest with himself about where he’s at in life, especially once he opens his package of test answers to reveal he’s been completely swindled by the boozy Englishman; the superficial tensions between the seven strangers melt away with Jeff’s speech – which hits closer to home than Jeff is even willing to admit, quickly deflecting it as a ploy to get into Britta’s pants (which it is… but it’s also clear he’s at a point where he has nowhere else to turn).
Of course, redemption is not the only running theme in Community‘s incredibly effective third act; “Pilot”, in both narrative and meta terms, is about perception. So much of the season and series to follow will be spent breaking down the stereotypes of the very Breakfast Club-esque personas of its central seven characters (along with plenty of memorable ancillary characters along the way, none of whom are really introduced here beyond the Dean’s brief, appropriately awkward first appearance), and by pushing against the boundaries of the network sitcom itself; while none of this is overtly present in “Pilot”, which is fairly straightforward in its delivery, it does a solid job in setting up these archetypes in ways for the season to expand upon (like Troy’s athletic career, or Pierce’s backstory).
If there’s a weak link to “Pilot”, it’s unfortunately Britta; as the reactionary to the pilot’s point of view character, “Pilot” plays its cards a little too close to the vest, and doesn’t allow the true parallels between her and Jeff (besides her ability to manipulate) to really surface. What hints are given are really good – like her smoking, which she tries to hide from the group – but they almost feel like an afterthought among the many other elements and ideas “Pilot” is funneling through Jeff – and to a degree, Abed.
That’s not to say Community‘s first episode knocks it out of the park with its other characters; but their archetypes, be it Shirley’s mother-going-back-to-school or Troy’s obvious insecurities (finding himself in a philosophic paradox over his lettermen jacket), engage thoughtfully with each other, and set up clear rhythms and comedic potential for each character. With seven distinct personalities to squeeze into 25 minutes, “Pilot” knows it has bitten off more than it can chew, smartly economizing their introductions in the second and third acts.
For a series known for having such a profound impact on entertainment the past decade, Community‘s first episode can feel incredibly unassuming and limited, especially when filtered through Jeff’s rampant, ruthless opportunism (and his comeuppance, in the form of Britta and Duncan’s betrayals). There’s certainly a nihilistic bent to its storytelling – but it is presented with such honesty and confidence, it’s hard not to be intrigued by its brief, but compelling ruminations on deeper ideas like moral relativism and human connection. Though “Pilot” is definitely holding back some of Community‘s bolder, more vulnerable thoughts, it still makes for an incredibly watchable, engaging first episode,
Grade: B+
Other thoughts/observations:
- I hereby announce you… are home for Community reviews! It’s the 15th anniversary of NBC’s cult comedy, and I will be writing reviews of each episode, publishing each Tuesday.
- It’s funny how the first detail we learn about Britta – she has two older brothers – is something immediately retconned from her character.
- Jeff’s lawyer skills are good enough he convinced a judge that a British man’s DUI was due to his unflinching post-9/11 patriotistm.
- “I thought you got your Bachelor’s from Colombia.” “And now I have to get one from America.”
- button down shirt, sweater, blazer, and track pants? Though Jeff’s character is fairly sharp in this pilot, his costuming is waaay off.
- Both Britta and Jeff make inappropriate suggestions to Abed about his potential conditions – which are mostly treated as afterthoughts, but certainly are presented in a way that would make most TV executives uncomfortable in 2024. I think how the series applies this is mostly careful, but there’s definitely a flippant attitude that feels of its era (like Britta’s reference to Bejeweled).
- Abed, making his first appearance as the voice of the writer’s room: ““I’m sure we all have an issue balled up inside of us that would make us cry if we talked about it.”
- What do sharks, pencils, and Ben Affleck have in common? Never forget!
- Abed and Jeff both note Britta looks like Elisabeth Shue, a great little note on their unhealthy relationship with television and how that informs their relationships with other people.
- “Pilot”, of course, was directed by Anthony and Joe Russo, who were never heard from again in the entertainment industry. Weird!
- In perhaps the most miscalibrated line of the pilot, we hear Troy say offscreen “I’m leaving my homework with Slumdog Millionaire.”
- We learn Annie and Troy went to the same high school, even though the latter can’t even remember they sat next to each other in algebra class.
- What Pierce thinks everyone’s names are: Brittles, Ayebed, Roy the Wonder Boy, Princess Elizabeth, and Shirley.
- Abed cuts everyone off in the middle of their cross-arguments with a screaming rendition of iconic lines from The Breakfast Club. Danny Pudi’s delivery of these lines is phenomenal.
- Legend has it Troy dislocated both shoulders doing a keg flip (NOT a keg stand).
- “What do we have that other species don’t?” Troy: “Feet.” Pierce: “No, bears have feet.”
- “Pilot”, of course, features the first Jeff Speech of the series.
- Duncan disguising his voice for no reason when he calls Jeff still makes me laugh.
- Seven-time divorcee Pierce Hawthrone, on Asperger’s: “If it’s so serious, why didn’t they call it meningitis?”
- Jeff: “The thing about being smart is you can get through most of life without doing any work.”
- The pilot, of course, is dedicated to John Hughes, whose films are embedded within the blueprint of so much film of the past forty years, not just Community.
- “You just wrinkled my brain, man.”
- Up next: Greendale faces a student protest in “Spanish 101”.