Community: "Pillows and Blankets" - Brother Against Brother...

I'm a fan of the television show Community. This is hardly a disputed point on this blog, as week after week after hiatus I find new superlatives for it, and new ways to celebrate how unique it is. The way it combines character development and genuine, relevant high stakes into elaborate pop-culture homages pays dividends that few shows can ever claim to have scored.

It almost seems quaint thinking back to "Modern Warfare"and "Contemporary American Poultry", back in season one. They were bold episodes of a sitcom finding its voice and paving new ground, and having a lot of fun. The idea of homage had been done, but they threw the additional curveball in of keeping the characters' development going and grounding the stories in something real. It continued through season two, and I was already content to put Community on a list of my favorite shows, and sometimes even at the top of that list. Season by season it makes its way closer to my all-time list.

Last night, Community jumped onto THE all-time list. Not of outstanding television comedies, mind you, but outstanding television shows. For last night, Community produced art.

Community has done meditative character study before, with last year's Pulp Fiction-turned-My Dinner with André fakeout that had us spending a lot of time listening to Abed talk about his worldview.

What "Pillows and Blankets" did was far more ambitious, hilarious, and surprisingly poignant. Fittingly, it accomplishes wild success by pushing itself all the way to the thresholds of its format, causes us to momentarily feel discomfort, and then leaves us laughing and thinking. Let's break it down:

• The genre: This is the conclusion of a two-part episode finding Troy and Abed, quintessential BFFs, going to war in opposing blanket/pillow forts. We could have gone back to the all-out-war parodies of years past, but Dan Harmon was smarter than that. Instead, we went into full-blown PBS Civil War documentary land. (Subsequent Googling introduced me to the name Ken Burns, who apparently is the godfather of this style we are all so familiar with now). Interviews are conducted with old people. Facebook posts and texts are read solemnly like wartime letters. Keith David, character actor and he of great voice (and The Cape), narrates.
• The characters: Who these people are are deftly woven into the style. Troy and Abed, being so close, would naturally inspire a Civil War comparison. Britta wanting to take pretentious wartime photos but sucking at it was perfect. Annie and Jeff at the center of a correspondence story (and Jeff's broader conflict) served the characters very well.
• The balance: The premise takes us as far as it can before it starts to fall under the format's own faults (namely, that these documentaries can be really boring). Thankfully, as if the show could read my mind, the focus starts shifting back towards Troy and Abed and their very real conflict that is a payoff of much previous development.

In the end, a bandaid is put on the friendship by a surprisingly selfless (but ultimately still selfish) Jeff, who helps re-indulge the two into their childlike love for each other. But what came out in the attack emails during the war - Abed coldly pointing out Troy's insecurities, Troy reminding Abed that he's his only friend and would probably remain so because of Abed's personality - can't be forgotten. And Community is a smart enough show to know that.

Of course, it was also funny as hell, too. My favorite gag of the episode involved the narrator explaining the names of various nonsensically-titled halls and cafeterias. Jeff and Annie's texts always had a realistic trivialness buried under the angst. Pierce dressed as a Pillowman, and whether or not you know the Martin McDonagh play, that's pretty funny.

Community's chances for renewal seem to be improving lately (less from any great success than NBC's unfortunate continued cold-streak). I for one am grateful for each new episode, as this is a show that doesn't waste a single one.