9.4/10. At base, I think Community is a writer's show. That's not to say that it doesn't have many strengths. The show owes much of its success to the incredible collection of performers it put together, and despite its network sitcom setting, it was often surprisingly ambitious with its visual storytelling, both in terms of its genre pastiches and the sharp editing and framing of its more traditional episodes. But I think Season 4 helps demonstrate that the show couldn't subsist on those great performances without the unique voice that came from the show's writing room, and an episode like "Cooperative Caligraphy" shows that the show could still deliver one of its greatest episodes even without the benefit of those impressive visuals and homages.
Because what's really striking about this episode is how it manages to keep up so much momentum and energy despite setting everything within the confines of the study room (albeit with hilarious PA announcements discussing the puppy parade). The study group-rending mystery of who took Annie's pen gives the episode a propulsive quality, and the twists, turns, and recriminations make the episode into a nice psychodrama about the frayed ends and collective strengths of this group of slightly (or severely) bent individuals within the confines of a bottle episode.
And oh that Community darkness mixed with that Community weirdness. The reveals that Abed has been tracking the women of the group's menstrual cycles, that Shirley is pregnant after reuniting with her ex-husband (with hints that the events of Halloween may have had something to do with it) and the bad blood and accusations that are batted back and forth are each marvelous in their own ways, allowing the show to have plot in an episode where no one can go anywhere or do much of anything. It's just twenty-two minutes of dialogue, the vast majority of it pretty damn glorious.
Of course, it all gets resolved in the end (apart from the rhesus ex machina tag), with something pleasantly life-affirming, that the group would rather believe in a fiction and trust each other than give into the fact that something as minor as a missing pen has torn them apart. It's a fantastic premise and execution, and even in the shadow of grandiose bits like paintball and alternate timelines, stands out as one of the show's most ambitious outings.
Review by Andrew BloomVIP 9BlockedParent2016-09-22T22:11:13Z
9.4/10. At base, I think Community is a writer's show. That's not to say that it doesn't have many strengths. The show owes much of its success to the incredible collection of performers it put together, and despite its network sitcom setting, it was often surprisingly ambitious with its visual storytelling, both in terms of its genre pastiches and the sharp editing and framing of its more traditional episodes. But I think Season 4 helps demonstrate that the show couldn't subsist on those great performances without the unique voice that came from the show's writing room, and an episode like "Cooperative Caligraphy" shows that the show could still deliver one of its greatest episodes even without the benefit of those impressive visuals and homages.
Because what's really striking about this episode is how it manages to keep up so much momentum and energy despite setting everything within the confines of the study room (albeit with hilarious PA announcements discussing the puppy parade). The study group-rending mystery of who took Annie's pen gives the episode a propulsive quality, and the twists, turns, and recriminations make the episode into a nice psychodrama about the frayed ends and collective strengths of this group of slightly (or severely) bent individuals within the confines of a bottle episode.
And oh that Community darkness mixed with that Community weirdness. The reveals that Abed has been tracking the women of the group's menstrual cycles, that Shirley is pregnant after reuniting with her ex-husband (with hints that the events of Halloween may have had something to do with it) and the bad blood and accusations that are batted back and forth are each marvelous in their own ways, allowing the show to have plot in an episode where no one can go anywhere or do much of anything. It's just twenty-two minutes of dialogue, the vast majority of it pretty damn glorious.
Of course, it all gets resolved in the end (apart from the rhesus ex machina tag), with something pleasantly life-affirming, that the group would rather believe in a fiction and trust each other than give into the fact that something as minor as a missing pen has torn them apart. It's a fantastic premise and execution, and even in the shadow of grandiose bits like paintball and alternate timelines, stands out as one of the show's most ambitious outings.