Paintball Battle Royale: Thoughts on the Season Finale of Community

If there's a show that knows how to throw a curveball (or a paintball), that seems to relish deflecting your expectations, it's NBC's Community.

The delightfully absurdist comedy wrapped up its season tonight with the second half of a two-part episode ("For A Few Paintballs Or More") that continued the paintball assassin-exploits of last week's Sergio Leone-style spaghetti Western. In looking to top last season's jaw-dropping paintball-themed "Modern Warfare," executive producer Dan Harmon and Company have delivered an astonishing combination of Westerns and Star Wars, paintball and mind games, Stormtroopers, Black Riders, and, er, saloon dancers. (Yes, Vicki, I'm looking at you.)

Tonight's season finale firmly embraces the gonzo style of those previous episodes, creating an episode that is both an absurdist adventure plot and the culmination of the entire season's overarching plotlines: Jeff's need to control the group, the Problem with Pierce, the inter-college rivalry, and the Community gang's obsession with Cougar Town. (Yes, that *was* Busy Phillips and Dan Byrd cheering on the Greendale "Human Beings" near the paintball Gatling gun.)Not to mention the surprising tryst between Annie and Abed... or at least Abed channeling Star Wars' immature hero, Han Solo. But it's not this liplock--its spell broken by the orange paint raining down from the sprinkler systems (courtesy of plumbing enthusiast Troy)--that ends the season; it's a singular moment between the characters. While Annie seems to cling to the unexpected pleasure she gets from that kiss, Abed has already moved on, casting off his latest character to return to the relative reality of the scene.

It's the departure of Pierce--and his decision to walk out on the study group--that actually brings to a close the second season. (Apart, that is, from the tag with Abed and the poor Greendale janitor.) It's interesting that Harmon et al would choose this moment to signify the end of the sophomore year, given the way in which these past twenty-odd episodes have held up a prism to the character of Pierce. Is he redeemed by his decision to sabotage the enemy and then hand over the $100K to Greendale rather than keep it for himself? Is it enough that he commits an act of generosity and altruism? Is it a moment of truth for this character when he turns his back on Jeff and the others and walks out of the study room?

We're told--rather surprisingly--that Pierce has been at Greendale for 12 years, and that this is the first time he actually made friends with any of his fellow students. It's a twist that I didn't see coming, particularly given the spotlight that has been shone on Pierce throughout the season.

Let's be clear: Chevy Chase isn't going anywhere... so neither is Pierce Hawthorne, the group's resident, well, thorn in their side. However, I think that this turn of events will manage to set up a new dynamic between Pierce and the study group when they return in the fall. After being excluded and playing the "villain" all season, he's decided to exile himself from the group altogether, subverting Jeff's own expectations that he would come crawling back at the last second after making a dramatic exit. (This is a man, let's remember, who fakes a heart attack twice during one game of paintball... and has also faked a heart attack out of giving Abed a piece of gum.) Just what does this mean for Season Three and for Pierce's connection to the central characters? Will the series follow Pierce as he forms a new group separate to this group of misfit outsiders? (Perhaps with Starburns and Leonard? Or Fat Neil and Garrett, named for executive producers Neil Goldman and Garrett Donovan? Kendra with a "q-u"?)

Putting aside those far-reaching effects, this was a pretty amazing episode that not only wove together those aforementioned story strands but also served as another installment in a long line of ambitious high-concept plots over the last two seasons, albeit retaining Community's emphasis on emotional truth. In looking at the two halves as a single one-hour episode, the plot veers from the spaghetti Western to the intergalactic wars of, er, the stars. Gatling guns, paintball sprinklers, menacing ice cream company mascots (Pistol Patty, you were Dean Spreck all along?!?!), Han Solo leather vests, and mysterious gunmen all converge into one explosive plot, which culminates in the final study group meeting of the year.

With Pierce's self-expulsion, Annie's curious interest in Abed, and Jeff's self-assuredness returned, the unity that the group had experienced just minutes earlier--as all of Greendale (and a few Cougar Town cast members) celebrated the defeat of their bitter rivals--evaporates into thin air. For a show that's been about communal experiences, about the common goals and shared experiences, it's interesting that the season ends on such a note of fractured friendships: of the group not staying together, of one of its members willingly walking out on the others.

There are no card-based voting systems here, no cries for help, no crawling back to get into others' good graces. Jeff is, for a change, wrong. He's unable to predict what Pierce would do; he's a "father figure" out of touch with his flock. And as that piece of the ceiling plummets to the ground, there's the real sense that the group isn't falling together, but falling apart. And I couldn't be more excited to see what happens next.

What did you think of the season finale, both as an installment on its own and as a full one-hour offering? Head to the comments section to discuss and debate.

Season Three of Community will begin this fall on NBC.

The Daily Beast: "The 8 Best Pilot Scripts of 2011"

The network upfronts—when the broadcasters unveil their fall schedules, tout their new programming, and bring out stars to shake hands with advertisers—are the week of May 16, but it’s never too soon to take a look at which shows you might become addicted to next season.

Over at The Daily Beast, you can read my latest feature, entitled "The 8 Best Pilot Scripts of 2011," in which I pick my favorite scripts--from the period dramas Playboy and Pan Am to the Sarah Michelle Gellar-starring noir thriller Ringer and Kyle Killen's mind-bending drama REM.

What shows are you rooting for? Which will make the cut as the networks unveil their fall schedules in the coming weeks? Head to the comments section to discuss...

Fairy Tale Beginnings: Considering Couples and Consequences on Parks and Recreation

Kudos to the writers of Parks and Recreation for pulling off what will go down as one of the all-time best episodes of the NBC comedy series, one that threw off the audience's preconceptions of comedy narratives and shattered our expectations about how romantic comedy couples are meant to be handled.

In this week's hilarious and emotionally resonant episode ("Fancy Party"), written by Katie Dippold and directed by Michael Trim, newly dating couple April and Andy got married. It wasn't a Very Special Episode. It wasn't preceded by NBC hitting us over the head with promos for a wedding site for April and Andy or forcing us to watch them shop for rings or make wedding plans, the writing team instead pulled the rug out from underneath the audience, transforming an episode about the unlikely couple hosting a dinner party into an impromptu wedding episode.

It was unexpected and magical, not least because the wool was pulled over the characters' eyes as well as our own. The sudden revelation that the "fancy party" that the gang at the Department of Parks and Recreation was attending was in fact a wedding for a couple who had only been dating for a month--the TV equivalent of a micro-second--was a stunning revelation in the face of the protracted and painful courtship of Jim and Pam over on The Office.

In one fell swoop, our expectations about April and Andy were punctured amid a ceremony that was not only organic in terms of their relationship and the show's unsentimental look at modern love, but also was entirely fitting for these characters at this point in the show's run.

Parks and Rec executive producers Greg Daniels and Mike Schur have seemingly relished the opportunity to shake things up in terms of the relationship department for the show's panoply of lovably odd characters. They split up Ann and Andy, thwarted our expectations that the romantic leads were Leslie and Mark by throwing Ann and Mark into a romance, and then just as surprisingly broke them up at the end of Season Two. Ann and Chris danced their dance and went their separate ways this season while Leslie and Ben are still tiptoeing around their own potential romance. All of which establishes Parks and Recreation as a show that's willing to take risks with the romantic trajectories of its characters.

None more so, perhaps, than this week's wedding. I couldn't help but wonder--all the way up to the point in which the justice of the peace declared them man and wife--whether this was in fact a complicated and provocative joke employed by Andy and April on their guests. Was it a ruse or an actual wedding? Were they about to be married or was it in fact a provocative gag on the institution of marriage?

This sense of unease and a cynical distrust of the reality unfolding here was assisted by the cold open in which Ron Swanson seemingly yanked out one of his own teeth during a department meeting. Shocking and unexpected, it was a gag of the highest order, an effort by Ron to pull one over on his gullible colleagues, a prank that pushed the boundaries of polite behavior and terrifying excess. (Ron, of course, had had the tooth removed by a dentist the day before.)

That aura of suspicion carried over into the wedding sequence, though the writers defied my own preconceptions by actually going through with the marriage of April and Andy, creating an emotional truth to the impulsive action that cemented their love and remained true to their wacky sense of adventure and selves. April Dwyer (nee Ludgate) is so seldom in touch with her emotions, so typically jaded and aloof, that when she does manifest some semblance of genuine feeling, one can't help but be swept up by it. Her tears at her sister's sullen speech may have been real, but it was the honest way she told Leslie that she loved her that tugged on my heartstrings.

While the characters may be splitting off and coupling, what remains at the show's core is the easiness and bond of friendship that exists between the characters. Leslie's efforts to try and call off the wedding were motivated by love for both April and Andy and an attempt to see that they not make a huge mistake they regretted later, putting their marriage before actually dating, or getting to know one another, or finding a place to live. ("We'll get a condo!") But her support of the couple is also a testament to her love for them as well, and it's felt in that brief but powerful scene between Leslie and April. ("You're awesome... I love you.")

Despite the fact that we're raised on fairy tales in which the wedding is the happy ending rather than the beginning, here the audience is forced to admit that the wedding is just the first step in a long road ahead for April and Andy, the beginning of something rather than the end. In romantic comedies, this is almost unheard of, particularly in televised one, where the tension between the two lovers needs to be sustained at all costs and where marriage often removes some of the shine rather than intensifies it.

April and Andy's relationship has only just begun and they've, fittingly for them, done things completely out of order. They haven't lived together, haven't really fought and broken up (not since they officially started dating), haven't even really gotten to know each other, but their marriage kicks everything into a higher gear. Where will they live? Will they get along? Will they squabble? What does this mean? All good questions as the writers subvert our preconceived notions of how a television couple is supposed to proceed in their courtship.

Which makes "Fancy Party" quite a groundbreaking episode, fusing together humor and genuine emotion into twenty-odd minutes of television bliss. I'm touched, stunned, incredulous, and surprised. But, most of all, I'm in awe.

Next week on Parks and Recreation ("Soulmates"), an online dating service matches Leslie with someone she already knows; Chris challenges Ron to a burger cook-off as part of a new health initiative.

The Last Waltz: An Advance Review of Season Five of Friday Night Lights

Well, this is it: the beginning of the end.

After four seasons of emotionally resonant drama, a nuanced exploration of life in small town Texas, and one of the most realistic portrayals of marriage ever, television masterpiece Friday Night Lights is heading towards the its final days, beginning with this week's thrilling and evocative season premiere ("Expectations"), written by David Hudgins and directed by Michael Waxman.

It's not surprising that "Expectations" had me getting choked up no less than four times over the course of 40-odd minutes, as characters made their farewells and prepared to leave Dillon behind. While their goodbyes might be temporary, it was a canny way of signaling to the audience that the final parting is still to come, that with just a dozen or so episodes left, there would be no going back to Dillon.

The first two episodes of the fifth and final season--"Expectations" and next week's installment ("On the Outside Looking In"), written by Kerry Ehrin and directed by Michael Waxman--contain an aura of both sadness and hope.

Which is fitting as there is a lot of change afoot in just the first hour alone, as Landry (Jesse Plemons) and Julie (Aimee Teegarden) prepare to leave for college and Eric (Kyle Chandler) and Tami (Connie Britton) grapple with new professional challenges (including, for Tami, one hell of a high-risk student), while also attempting to come to terms with Julie growing up and leaving home.

But everyone has to deal with some new circumstances, some of which are inherently challenging. There's trouble at home for Becky (Madison Burge), who has to deal with a sudden change in her family life as well as feelings of isolation and abandonment. Jess (Jurnee Smollett) attempts to raise her little brothers now that her dad is on the road launching multiple franchises of his BBQ restaurant. Billy (Derek Phillips) and Mindy (Stacey Oristano) have troubles of their own, not the least of which is Billy's crushing guilt over Tim (Taylor Kitsch) still being in prison and further changes at the Riggins household.

What else did I think about the first two episodes of Season Five?

Continue reading...

The Daily Beast: "The Downfall of Law & Order"

Law & Order: LA is undergoing a massive retooling (beginning with tonight's two-hour reboot), Criminal Intent is about to end on USA, and SVU’s leads’ contracts are set to expire.

Over at The Daily Beast, you can read my latest feature, entitled "The Downfall of Law & Order," in which I report on the once-mighty franchise.

Law & Order: Los Angeles returns tonight, after a 19-week hiatus, at 9 pm ET/PT on NBC.

My Dinner with Abed: Emotional Truths and the Lies We Tell Ourselves on Community

It's safe to say that Community will never give you exactly what you think you're getting.

In this case, this week's brilliant and moving episode of Community ("Critical Film Studies"), written by Sona Panos and directed by Richard Ayoade (of The IT Crowd and The Mighty Boosh), seemed to be a spoof of Pulp Fiction. It looked and sounded--from the promos and the information being sent out by the publicity and marketing teams--like Pulp Fiction, so it had to be a spoof of Quentin Tarantino's landmark film, right?

Wrong.

While there were elements from Pulp Fiction in play for Abed's PF-themed surprise party at the diner where Britta works, the episode itself was an astute yet emotional homage to Louis Malle's 1981 film My Dinner with Andre, which is essentially a conversation between two men (Wallace Shawn and Andre Gregory) about the nature of reality, of fabricated theatre, and of true and honest experiences as opposed to robotic reactions to popular culture.

This is not what one might expect to find in an American broadcast network comedy series. But that's precisely, as I've argued so many times in the past, what makes Community the smartest and most astute comedy on television today: its innate ability, built into its very DNA, to be infinitely flexible with its format, its tone, and its reference points.

"Critical Film Studies" did that on several levels, giving us a surprise party for Abed that celebrated his love for pop culture and what he deems "cool," which in this case is a Pulp Fiction-themed fete in which the members of the study group dress up as characters from Tarantino's film, attempting to recreate a moment from one of Abed's favorite films.

Abed, however, has a different reference in mind, looking to put himself inside Malle's film by arranging a dinner with Jeff at a restaurant that Abed wouldn't normally pick in a hundred years. While Jeff is initially thrown by Abed's choice of eatery, he goes along with the decision, even though the surprise party he's arranged is getting delayed. But while Abed claims to want to have an honest, real conversation with Jeff, the entire scenario is in fact completely manufactured, itself an homage to a film, even if Jeff doesn't realize what's going on.

(Yes, it's time to cue up Erik Satie's "Gymnopédie No. 1," used here as it is in My Dinner with Andre to full effect, along with the use of voiceover, typically not used on Community.)



Over the course of their dinner, Abed once again plays a character--in this case, it's the erudite "Andre" of Malle's film, waxing philosophical in his chunky cardigan sweater. He's making eye contact, smiling, and engaging with Jeff in a way that he hasn't before. But the conversation that they have isn't one of Abed's normal topics; rather, they plunge into something straight out of My Dinner with Andre, discussing both the nature of truth and lies and debate the artificiality of theatrical constructs (i.e., Chad).

A story about visiting the set of ABC's Cougar Town (mentioned no less than a dozen times throughout the installment) becomes less of an anecdote and more a discussion of the way in which we construct our identities, as Abed shares his experience of being a background extra in a scene with Courteney Cox and the character of Chad that he creates for this split-second of screen time. But there's also a kernel of truth to the discussion here, the belief that Chad has lived more than Abed has, that the experiences he's described of growing up in Cougar Town are in fact more real, more nuanced, more realized than his own.

The lies we tell ourselves are the deadliest, which is something that both Jeff and Abed dance around in their dinner. The scenario constructed here--a man has dinner with a friend he's avoiding, only to be forced to confront some uncomfortable emotional truths--rings true. While Abed may be playing a character, he does manage to get Jeff to reveal his own inner truths as well, admitting that he often calls sex lines and pretends to be fat and recounting a story in which he dressed as a little Indian girl for Halloween and stopped correcting people about his gender after the third house. He just wanted to feel pretty, after all.

Jeff's story reveals both his superficiality but also the insecurity that lurks beneath his polished surface. He's both terrified at the thought of being unattractive, yet fears that he's only loved for his looks. If that's not the definition of real emotional truth, I don't know what is. That it arrives within an episode that's constructed around a high-brow indie film from more than 30 years ago and a framework that involves Pulp Fiction is a testament to the genius of Community's writing staff.

When Abed's Cougar Town scene ends, Chad ceases to exist and Abed "poops" his pants and falls over, according to his Andre-esque story, an example of a spiritual experience that trumps both Jeff's seemingly shallow existence and the "robotic" interplay between Abed and pop culture. It's a moment of both divinity and humanity, of immortality and death itself. The death of the character within is the death of the self.

While the entire sequence sends up My Dinner with Andre, it also serves a larger purpose within the framework of Community itself, where nothing is ever done haphazardly or without purpose. Here, Abed, defined by his limitations, can't bring himself to ask why Jeff doesn't hang out with him anymore in the way that he did the previous year. Instead, Abed is Abed, true to himself and his core motivations and lack of ability to express himself: he creates a scenario out of Malle's film that allows him to play someone else in an effort to get Jeff to connect with him, to open up to him, and to confront the elephant in the room: that their relationship has changed.

Jeff may have gone through the trouble of arranging a surprise party for Abed and tracking down the "authentic" briefcase from Pulp Fiction (complete with light bulb and certificate of authenticity), but what Abed wants is something that neither of them can really give each other: an honest conversation. Yet the artificiality of the set-up does enable just that, as Jeff opens up to Abed to share dark, personal secrets.

So, can something real and genuine emerge from something artificial? Is there truth to be had in fabricated reality? Can a dream of a life be more real than your own? Can a sitcom make you feel and think and see the world in another way? With this and a multitude of other episodes, Community does just that, delivering a world that's both real and fake, genuine and artificial, tragic and uplifting.

The surprise party ruined and the evening seemingly all but destroyed by in-fighting, jealousies, anger, and curiosity, the gang remains at the restaurant to throw Abed a party at the luxe eatery rather than at the diner. It's a triumphant realization of the fact that you can fuse together disparate elements--My Dinner with Andre and Pulp Fiction, these unlikely friends--into a single entity. The joy and spirit of, well, community is seen throughout the closing scenes as Abed receives his gifts and the gang brings the pop culture into the high brow aesthetic of the restaurant. Beautiful, sweet, and funny, it's emblematic of what Community does best, reminding us that being clever and having heart are not mutually exclusive.

Next week on Community, it's a repeat of "Early 21st Century Romanticism," in which Abed and Troy vie for the attention of the college librarian; Britta befriends a student she thinks is gay; Jeff winds up hosting an impromptu party at his apartment.

PaleyFest 2011: Details From NBC's Community Panel

Everybody now: Pop Pop!

Last night marked Community's second time at the annual Paley Festival and the evening, moderated by The A.V. Club's Todd VanDerWerff, was a celebration of the off-kilter NBC comedy and its cast and crew, which came out in full force (save Donald Glover and Alison Brie, who were shooting) for this hysterical and fun session.

The evening began with a screening of this week's upcoming episode of Community ("Custody Law and Eastern European Diplomacy"), written by Andy Bobrow, which featured guest star Enver Gjojak (Dollhouse) as Luka, a friend of Troy and Abed's with whom Britta becomes romantically involved. I don't want to give too much away about the episode--it was hysterical, after all--but I will say that it involves war crimes, kidnapping charges, Chang smoking a pipe, and Kickpuncher III, as well as Gillian Jacobs' Britta creating chaos in her wake and the pregnancy/paternity subplot swirling around Yvette Nicole Brown's Shirley.

In true meta fashion, creator Dan Harmon introduced an introduction to his introduction, before seguing into the screening of "Custody Law and Eastern European Diplomacy." If you've never watched an episode of Community alongside hundreds of other fans, you truly are missing out as the audience roared with laughter and seemed to love this remarkable series as much as I do.

So what did the cast and crew have to say about what's coming up on Community? Let's take a look.

Harmon was loath to spill too many details about what's ahead this season on Community, which--for shame!--still hasn't been renewed for a third season. Still, producers said that they are hopeful for a renewal. As for what's coming up...

"We are going to tell some stories," he said, in true Dan Harmon style. "Shirley's got to drop the papoose."

Meanwhile, we'll see the one-hour season finale "sequel" to "Modern Warfare" that features Lost's Josh Holloway. Executive producer/director Joe Russo said that the installment was a "Sergio Leone homage" and "almost killed" them making it. Harmon and Co. are keeping details about the episode firmly under wraps, however. "When we found out that Sawyer was coming to Greendale, it was like Christmas morning," said Brown, admitting that the entire cast are huge Lost fans.

But Harmon did tease another upcoming episode, a "memory episode," which will be Community's version of a clip show, with 75 scenes, all new, from "episodes that don't exist," according to Harmon. It's their take on the traditional sitcom clip show, but with a twist that only Community could pull off. (This sounded AMAZING.) Brown said that the episode is "rich with things in the background of each scene" and said to pay attention to the details in the scenes.

For his part, Joel McHale joked, "We're doing a parody of Small Wonder and Bridge on the River Kwai," when posed with the same question. But Danny Pudi did spill one detail, as he said that Abed will be doing a critical analysis of Who's the Boss? in an effort to determine once and for all just who the boss really was.

Additionally, he writers will address the issue of whether Pierce is in fact redeemable after his behavior in such episodes as "Advanced Dungeons & Dragons" and "Intermediate Documentary Filmmaking." (If you missed my take on Pierce and Chevy Chase from a few weeks ago, you can read "The Problem with Pierce" here.)

Chase said Pierce just wants to be accepted by the group and that he has the "mind of a 13 year old." "It's so close to who I am," said Chase, who said that he's just playing himself as Pierce. Semi-seriously, I think. "I get one fan letter a week now," he said. "Before I was on the show, I got 2000-3000." (But lest you think that Chase sat back demurely during this panel, that wasn't quite the truth: a gag involving his mic cord occurred within the first few seconds of the panel and a way-too-loud nose blow occurred when Danny Pudi answered a question. When the panel all praised Chase's performance in the Dungeons & Dragons episode, Chase answered, "What's D&D?")

Gillian Jacobs said that a lot of the physical humor comes from her awkwardness as she doesn't have a lot of grace. "It's been really great to go from the girl on the pedestal to 'you're the worst, please leave'!"

About the now famous Christmas claymation episode, Danny Pudi said that he wasn't concerned about all of the depressing stuff in that episode because "it was in clay." But as Pudi began to talk about how surreal it is to be sitting up on stage at a Community panel or have a special airing on Christmas Eve (the claymation episode was repeated that evening), Chase interrupted his answer with the aforementioned nose-blow. (Le sigh.)

Later, Pudi was asked about the "Brown Jamie Lee Curis" line and said, "It's so true! I never realized it!"

Joel McHale said that we will eventually meet Jeff's father, and joked that he's a centaur. But McHale also said that he hopes that Jeff's issues will be explored in Season Three of Community, which led the audience to applaud and cheer. "Much like erosion, it takes a long time for people to change," said McHale of Jeff Winger.

Jim Rash told a hilarious story about the costume fitting for Dean Pelton's recent Uncle Sam costume (or, sorry, his sister's Uncle Sam costume) and said thathe wants to see Dean Pelton's "dirty, dirty" apartment and joked his whole place would be "black-light." Harmon spun the audience a hypothetical plotline in which we'd see the study group at the start of the episode--with Shirley considering eating something else, Troy thinking of growing a mustache--and have the scene interrupted by the Dean and then follow him out and have the whole episode focus on Dean Pelton, only to wrap up at the end with Troy's mustache, etc. (Let's just say that the crowd loved the idea.)

And we will see Dean Pelton's midriff, apparently, as well as more "shirtless Jeff Winger."

There was a huge round of applause for the Community staff writers sitting in the audience as the house lights came up and the writers stood up. Harmon joked that he did a weird "Howard Hughes thing" during the first season, writing alone in his house, but this season he really used his writing staff and understood what can come from team writing and those writer all-nighters. "This season, if you like it more it's because of the writing staff," said Harmon.

Asked for their favorite current television comedies, Ken Jeong said that he loves Parks and Recreation (go, Pawnee!); Jacobs, Brown, and Pudi all love 30 Rock, and Harmon said that the show that makes him laugh the most right now is HBO's The Ricky Gervais Show.

Harmon said Jeff's recent slam of Barenaked Ladies was not a slam against The Big Bang Theory. He honestly had no idea they sang the theme song to the CBS sitcom that airs in their timeslot.

(To the audience member whose question was really just an opportunity to issue Magnitude's "Pop Pop!" I'd like to tip my hat at you.)

In the "That's nice" category, Yvette Nicole Brown's answer about the role Twitter and social networking among the cast and crew of Community. As the others cracked jokes about Brown retweeting Reverend Run quotes Brown said, "This is gonna sound corny but they're called followers and I feel like we should lead them somewhere positive."

Wait, a heartfelt moment among the laughter? It wouldn't be Community without it. Thanks to the cast and crew of Community for a fantastic evening.

Community airs Thursday evenings at 8 pm ET/PT on NBC.

PaleyFest 2011: Details From NBC's Parks and Recreation Panel

Welcome to the home of the world famous Julia Roberts... lawsuit. To the Paris of Indiana. Welcome to Pawnee.

It was clear, as the cast and crew of NBC's painfully funny and wickedly sweet Parks and Recreation gathered on stage last night as part of the 2011 edition of the Paley Festival, that there's as much love for the series coming from the actors than there is coming from the audience.

"I think this is the beginning of us being around for a long time," said Amy Poehler about Parks and Recreation reaching its stride. The numbers have climbed during the long-delayed third season, which made the move to the plum post-Office timeslot in January.

Though Poehler was quick to poke fun at moderator Michael Ausiello of TVLine for issuing a backhanded compliment about the underrated first season of this winning comedy series. "It's a bit like saying that your baby used to be ugly and is now cute," said Poehler on reactions to Season One, which she termed an "amuse bouche, for all you Top Chef fans out there."

Nearly everyone praised Poehler for the professional and warm tone she sets for the entire cast and crew. (It really does all trickle down from the top, if I'm being honest.)

"Writing for this cast is like a writer's dream come true," said co-creator Mike Schur. "Each of them is a Swiss Army Knife."

One of my favorite quotes had to be from Poehler about Leslie Knope at the start of the panel, as she described Leslie as "part Girl Scout, part pioneer, and zero game."

There was one bit of newsworthy business that had to be dealt with before the evening got under way and that was the rumors swirling about Rob Lowe, who joined the cast of Parks and Rec last season as eternally optimistic Chris Traeger. Mike Schur said there is "no truth" to rumors about Rob Lowe joining the cast of Two and a Half Men and replacing Charlie Sheen. Lowe, said Schur, is under a multi-year contract. As for why Lowe wasn't there last night, Schur said he was looking at colleges with his kids back East.

(Aubrey Plaza, meanwhile, had her own choice words to Sheen, issuing a deadpan proposition to the former Two and a Half Men star that insinuated that she'd do anything for him, no matter how dirty, and that he should "find [her] on Twitter.")

So what else did the cast and crew of Parks and Rec have to say? Let's take a look and what lies ahead for the gang in Pawnee and some other interesting tidbits...

Leslie. "The second half of the season will be about how [Leslie's] profile is heightened" as a result of Harvest Festival," said Schur about the professional arc facing Ms. Knope after next week's "Harvest Festival" episode, with Leslie becoming something of a local celebrity in Pawnee.

Ben. As for Ben (Adam Scott), the nascent romance between him and Leslie will provide a bit of a throughline for the remainder of the season, as they "tap-dance" around each other. "Leslie had had many suitors but this is the first one that's interested in the same thing she is," said Poehler about Ben. As for whether Ben has a shot with Leslie, Poehler said, "Leslie is like a single mom and Pawnee is like her kid. And if you treat her kid well, you might get to have sex with her."

Ann Perkins! "Ann turns into a real slut," said Poehler about Ann's upcoming romantic arc. "She goes on a Rumspringa."

April and Andy. Andy and April are "on a rollercoaster". They like each other a lot and are just hanging onto the outside of it, said Schur.

Asked why Andy is so much more lovable now than when we first met him in Season One (when he was taking advantage of the good graces of then-girlfriend Ann after falling in the pit), Nick Offerman said, "Andy met a man named Ron Swanson, and now he has much better manners."

Tom. Tom will invent a beverage called Snake Juice this season, though I hope it tastes better than Tommy Fresh's "teriyaki hairpiece," um, odeur. ("Eventually one of Tom's inventions will hit... in Season 9," said Schur.) As for Tom's personal life, Aziz Ansari said, "I secretly want Usher to play Tom's brother."

Mayor Gunderson. We were promised that Mayor Gunderson WILL eventually be seen on the series. Poehler wants Bill Murray to play him, a casting note that had everyone in the audience cheering. ("He'd only have to work three hours," promised Poehler.)

Among the other details revealed last night:

• Aubrey Plaza says Amy Poehler was one of her comedy heroes when she was in high school. Aw. The two worked on Saturday Night Live at the same time, when Plaza interned in the art department, though she said that Poehler never said one word to her. Amy rejoined, "I was busy!"
• "You can make so much fun of him and he doesn't care, because he's so good looking," said Rashida Jones about her co-star Rob Lowe.
• Aubrey mentions that because she's "so young" she didn't know who Rob Lowe was when he arrived for his first day of work last season. Poehler's reaction? "Oh, shut up, Aubrey."
• Poehler wants to see Louis C.K. back on Parks and Recreation, especially to see him work with Adam Scott. In fact, she was the one who suggested Louis C.K. for the role, which was originally written as a handsome, buff local cop. (Amy won out in the end.)
• Asked by an audience member for their favorite fictional characters, several actors named Omar Little from The Wire, though Schur admitted that no fictional character makes him laugh as much as Cookie Monster.
• Retta told a story about how she didn't really have any lines in the first season until Amy started ad-libbing with her. "Where'd you get that leaf?" Leslie asked, referring to a leaf Donna had pinned up on a bulletin board behind her desk. "Outside," deadpanned Donna. (HA!)
• In other Retta news, she said she almost passed out at the table read for "Ron & Tammy II" because she was laughing so hard. "Chris [Pratt] makes me pee all the time."
• "I don't remember any of that," said Plaza after Schur told the story of meeting her and creating April based on that first meeting; the way that she made him feel mirrored the way that she makes Leslie feel.
• The writers' first inkling about the possibilities of pairing April and Andy came during Season Two's "Hunting Trip" episode, in which they got left behind at the office and the two played Marco Polo and practiced spit-takes. (Funnily enough, it was the first time I twigged to the possibility that these two could be meant for each other.)

And that's a wrap! Thanks to the cast and crew of Parks and Recreation for such a lovely and funny evening and be sure to catch next week's "Harvest Festival," which I've now (as of late night's screening before the panel) seen no less than six times.

Parks and Recreation airs Thursday at 9:30 pm ET/PT on NBC.

Are You Still Watching The Event?

Last night marked the return (and revamp) of NBC's troubled sci-fi drama The Event, which viewers seemed to be fleeing in droves last fall.

While we await the overnight ratings for the return of The Event, I'm curious to know (A) whether you stuck around throughout the fall episodes, (B) if you tuned in last night for the series' return to the airwaves, (C) what you thought, and (D) whether you'll keep watching.

For the record, in case you were wondering, I gave up after the two-episode screener NBC sent out before the show launched, so I have no vested interest in The Event whatsoever.

I would, however, love to know just what viewers thought of last night's relaunch and whether it was enough--along with Virginia Madsen--to pique your interest enough to keep tuning in for the rest of the season. Honesty is always the best policy, so let me know just what you thought about The Event.

Talk back here.

Family Business: Trust Issues on Chuck

If there's one thing that Chuck has dealt with on an ongoing basis, it's matters of trust and fidelity in the spy world, where such things are seen as potential weaknesses to be exploited rather than strengths.

Over the course of the last four seasons, Chuck Bartowski has been transformed from a naive asset into a full-blown spy of his own and I don't mean thanks to the Intersect (which still manages to flash and give him information or enable him to engage in some kick-ass Kung Fu), but rather his demeanor and way of handling himself in the field has changed significantly. Whereas he and Sarah were once on separate trajectories (he wants to be extraordinary! she wants to be normal!), they've now settled somewhere in the middle together, a spy couple whose missions are backdrops for their romantic endeavors.

This week's episode of Chuck ("Chuck Versus the First Bank of Evil") found the one-time spy wannabe engaging with his own asset, Vivian MacArthur Volkoff (Lauren Cohan), the daughter of notorious international criminal Alexei Volkoff, who has been spirited off to a top-flight CIA holding facility. But, unlike some of the other agents who work in government espionage, Chuck hasn't lost sight of his own moral compass. It's clear that he cares for Vivian and that the two, whose childhoods are remarkably similar in some ways, are two simpatico souls desperate to reconnect with the parents who seemingly turned their backs on them years before.

But the balance of power has shifted. Whereas once before, Chuck would have been the one duped into assisting, say, the CIA, he now is the CIA and he's the one making promises here, offering Vivian the chance to see her father in exchange for her help on a mission to Macau. The only problem is that Beckman has no intentions of letting Vivian see Alexei and Chuck's broken promise to Vivian unwittingly sends the conflicted woman over to the dark side...

Personally, I'm of two minds about Vivian. On the one hand, I'm glad to see that we're witnessing the birth of a highly conflicted villain, one who is being pulled into the family business, not because of greed or a need to take over the world, but because she doesn't know where her heart is leading her. Volkhoff's unpredictable dangerous quality isn't due entirely to his ruthlessness, it's also due to his world-class gift for emotional manipulation, as we saw earlier this season.

His presents to Vivian--an account card to a bank, which leads her to a safety deposit box containing photographs and mementos of Vivian as a child, Volkoff's most prized possessions--are clearly intended to tip her hand, to make her see that Alexei didn't turn his back on her but kept a close eye on her, grooming her as his future replacement. Which is exactly the agenda that Riley (the always fantastic Ray Wise) pushes when he encounters Vivian on two separate occasions: they need her to step into her father's shoes and what better way than by turning her against Chuck and her handlers? Despite the obvious connection between Vivian and Chuck, Riley is able to effortlessly drive a wedge between the two of them. After all, isn't Chuck responsible for the arrest and detainment of her father?

On the other hand, there's been a lot of focus on Vivian the last two weeks. While I applaud the show's writers for offering us a different type of villain--and a female villain, no less--than we've seen to date, Vivian's development comes at the expense of other characters' screentime, something I hope balances out now more that we've seen Vivian seemingly make her choice (i.e., the final shot of her in the car with Riley at the end).

I can't shake the feeling that the Buy More and its staffers (sorry, Jeffster fans) are more or less superfluous these days (RenFair humor?), as are Ellie and Devon largely. I'm glad to see that Sarah and Ellie are (finally!) bonding between last week's scene and this week's wedding preparation, and their interactions in "Chuck Versus the First Bank of Evil" injected some Bridezilla comedy into the mix, to boot. (I didn't, however, need the extended montage of Sarah trying on wedding dresses--would Castle really have a huge assortment of bridal gowns?--but it did at least pay off with the bullet hole-ridden gown that Sarah set her sights on.)

And the positioning of Vivian front and center meant that Casey was once more relegated to the background, something that troubles me when I think of how much fun the missions were when it was Chuck, Sarah, and Casey together. Far too often these days, Casey is paired with Morgan, which is fine but it seems to be happening all the time now... and, hell, Morgan is now his roommate. (Which will, hopefully, mean that the relationship between Casey and Alex might finally get some much-needed development.) Here, Morgan catches Casey involved in something clandestine in a secret sector of Castle. We're not privy as to just what Casey's mission really is, but Morgan overhears that it will involve a TR-476 and there's the matter of that odd corridor in Castle. Just what is he up to? And how does it tie into the Volkoff story arc? Hmmm...

Some other thoughts:

• Loved the fact that the writers used the famous Lost numbers sequence (4-8-15-16-23-42) on Vivian's Bank of Macau card. A nice touch that was further served by the presence of Lost's Francois Chau (Pierre Chang!) as the bank manager.
• I was concerned that black-clad Chuck and Sarah's robbery of the bank would tip too much towards being The Matrix but the walked a very fine line and came out on the right side, puncturing the tension by having Chuck and Sarah discuss wedding plans.
• I'm still not convinced that Castle ("J. Crew for spies") would have an actual selection of wedding dresses to choose from in its costume department, but it was a good way to payoff the earlier scene with Chuck finding Vivian appropriate attire for their mission
• I'm glad we haven't seen the last of Ray Wise's Riley, here whispering poison into Vivian's ear.
• I love that Sarah, who was so conflicted about wedding planning, becomes obsessed with it, throwing herself into the arrangements as though it were a tactical mission, dreaming up elaborate plans for a ceremony on a private island and flying the cake in from Paris. It's a believable transformation, and I'm hoping that her need to pull off the "perfect" wedding leads to a return of Gary Cole as her con man father.

All in all, "Chuck Versus the First Bank of Evil" is a fun episode that won't necessarily rank as the very best Chuck has had to offer, but I thought it represented a significant improvement over some of the clunkers we've been given of late.

What did you think of last night's episode? A winner or a miss? What is your take on Vivian Volkoff? Head to the comments section to discuss.

In two weeks on Chuck ("Chuck Versus the A-TEAM"), Chuck and Sarah begin to investigate when they suspect that Casey is carrying out private missions; Chuck fears that the CIA's seemingly-perfect new operatives will render him obsolete; Morgan settles in with a new roommate, and Awesome panics when Ellie embarks on a potentially dangerous line of research.

The Daily Beast: "Why You Must Watch Parenthood"

So, wait, you're not watching Parenthood?

NBC’s Parenthood is not the most glamorous show on television. Its focus, charting the lives of a sprawling Berkeley, California family, might pale in comparison to, say, Desperate Housewives’ antics on Wisteria Lane. There are no murders, no swapped babies, and no satirical, over the top look at domesticity here.

Which is to say: enough is enough. This is a show that you should be watching, regardless of whether you're a parent yourself or a teenager. (Or, even if you're well past your teen years.)

Over at The Daily Beast, you can read my latest feature, "Why You Must Watch Parenthood," which discusses the reasons why you have to watch NBC’s criminally underrated drama Parenthood, which captures the highs and lows of family life.

On tonight's episode of Parenthood ("Do Not Sleep With Your Autistic Nephew's Therapist"), Crosby deals with backlash from his mistake; Alex's constant visits irk Adam; Kristina and Adam must confront an issue that could hamper Max's progress.

Casting Couch: Kiefer Sutherland Grabs Touch, Minnie Driver Lands Hail Mary, Jason Isaacs Gets REM

A trio of leading actors are heading back to television this pilot season.

Former 24 star Kiefer Sutherland has been cast in FOX drama pilot Touch, from creator/executive producer Tim Kring (Heroes) and 20th Century Fox Television. The project revolves around Sutherland's character, a father "who discovers that his autistic, mute son can predict events before they happen," according to Deadline's Nellie Andreeva.

Production is slated to begin in late May or early June, due to Sutherland's Broadway commitments. (He's currently on stage in a revival of That Championship Season.) Touch will be directed by Charles McDougall, who has become quite the go-to pilot director in recent years, having directed pilots for such series as The Good Wife, The Chicago Code, Desperate Housewives, The Tudors, and many others.

Elsewhere, Minnie Driver (The Riches is also heading back to television, this time to star in CBS drama pilot Hail Mary, where she will play "a suburban single mom who teams up with a street-smart hustler to solve crimes," in the Warner Bros Television-produced pilot, from showrunner Ilene Chaiken (The L Word)

And Jason Isaacs (Brotherhood), who starred in last year's FOX pilot Pleading Guilty, has landed the lead in NBC drama pilot REM from Lone Star creator Kyle Killen. Project, from 20th Century Fox Television, is described as "an Inception-style thriller centered on a cop (Isaacs) who wakes up after an accident to find he is living in two different realities," per Deadline's Nellie Andreeva. Isaacs will also serve as a producer on the project, which will be overseen by 24's Howard Gordon.

Community: The Problem with Pierce

Viewers of Community have embraced the NBC comedy's ability to explore the boundaries of the single-camera broadcast comedy format, gleefully embarking on adventures involving zombies, outer space, chicken finger-hoarding mobsters, pen-stealing monkeys, and much more.

But what some viewers have had a hard time doing is offering a hug to the show's most dastardly character, Pierce Hawthorne, played by veteran Chevy Chase. In the first season of Community, Pierce often acted as a personification of the study group's id, a childlike man who frequently expressed the things that each of us progressive, modern people have sworn never to think, let alone say out loud.

The problem with Pierce in many ways is that it's become difficult at times to separate Pierce Hawthorne from Chevy Chase. Both men appear to be loud, loutish, and disruptive, prone to being an attention-stealer who often engages in pratfalls in order to grab the spotlight away from one of his costars. (If you've ever attended one of Community's panels, either at the Paley Festival or Comic-Con or the Television Academy, you know exactly what I mean.)

This season, Pierce has been put through the wringer a bit--his mother died, he was injured in a freak trampolining accident, and he became addicted to prescription painkillers--all seemingly in an effort to make the audience sympathize with a character who is so self-centered that he willfully disrupts a suicide-prevention-based game of Dungeons & Dragons.

Given his disruptive influence and ill manners, Time's James Poniewozik pondered why the group continues to spend time with Pierce, saying, "I can deal with it by remembering that the answer is, 'Because Chevy Chase is a cast member on this show.'"

There's a certain kernel of truth to that, all the more fitting because this week's episode ("Intermediate Documentary Filmmaking"), written by Megan Ganz and directed by Joe Russo, utilized the mockumentary style of Modern Family and The Office (and to a lesser extent, the Russo Brothers' work on Arrested Development) to create an aura of docudrama-style reality around Pierce's hospitalization. (You can read my pre-air thoughts about this week's episode here.)

Because Community is meant to be inclusive, there's always been a place at the study room table for Pierce, just as there has been for the socioeconomic and racial diversity at play within the series. Community colleges, after all, represent students from a wide walk of life: young and old, wealthy and poor, black and white. It's a cultural hodgepodge that functions more or less as a microcosm for society itself. Which is why it's fitting that there would be a character of advanced age within the group, even though his presence is often barely tolerated by the other characters.

Which, one could argue, seems to be the case on stage with the cast members and Chase himself. Just as Pierce seemingly loves to destroy the brief moments of camaraderie or happiness among the group, so too does Chevy Chase seem to relish throwing a spanner into the works every time there's harmony in a public forum. Both men can't seem to help themselves, and there is something quite sad about seeing a grown man behave like a child begging for attention. Which is why I can't help but wonder whether the show's writers haven't imbued Community with this sentiment, pushing Pierce to behave more and more outrageously, all in an effort to garner attention from a group of people that don't seem to like him very much.

Scroll down through Twitter and you'll see more than a few people bashing the character of prickly Pierce Hawthorne. Last week's scene with Pierce lying inert on a park bench after an overdose of prescription medication seemed to act as a bit of wish fulfillment for the contingent of Community viewers who want Pierce to keel over. Which made me wonder whether this was just another case of the Community writing staff employing a metatheatrical context to explore the audience's depth of feeling toward this character... or, in fact, the cast and crew's own feelings towards Chase. (Is this episode an outward manifestation of what it's like to work with Chase on a regular basis? Is Pierce's role the very same as that of Chase's on set?)

Despite the issues that Pierce has faced this year, the audience has largely had a hard time feeling sympathetic towards him. Despite the emphasis on his feelings of exclusion this week, trying to find an emotional connection to Pierce is a bit like trying to wring blood from a stone. It's just not going to happen, but in the grand scheme of things and in the emotional world of Community, that's okay.

Pierce as a outward villain has been something that we've seen more of in Season Two of Community than in the show's first season, where the role of the group's antagonist was performed by Ken Jeong's Senor Chang, a malevolent presence who seemed to exist to make their lives hell. This year, with Chang now sidelined as a figure of authority, that role has fallen to Pierce largely and the conflict the group has faced this year has largely been internal in nature, thanks to Mr. Hawthorne.

I would argue that, while I have no love for Pierce (though I did enjoy his brief foray into breath-operated wheelchairs), he's a necessary evil, the mirror that the writers can hold up in front of the characters in order to make them face their innermost fears and insecurities. This week's episode, which found Pierce bequeathing last gifts unto his study partners in a game of "psychological vengeance" forced them to face up to some hard truths. Despite the fact that he's often overlooked, Pierce seems to know the study group better than they know themselves at times.

(I was reminded briefly, of Baudelaire's le flaneur, the detached observer. While that seems a role more well suited for Danny Pudi's Abed, who the episode sets up as the literal eye of the piece (hence the documentary camera), Pierce's insight here into the unseen inner struggles of these characters sets him up as such an observer, though his interference in their lives, via those "gifts," disrupts any detachment he might have. Pierce is determined, it seems, to be not on the outside but the focal point of everyone's attention.)

After all, Pierce's gifts do peel back a layer of onionskin of these characters: he's able to bring to the surface Shirley's insecurities and her holier-than-thou attitude, Jeff's nascent daddy issues, Annie's elitism, Troy's fear of disappointing his idol (pitch-perfect LeVar Burton), Britta's secret selfishness. His "bequeathings" are crucibles by which to test the strength of these individuals. Does the heat make them stronger or do they crack?

Pierce provides a valuable role within the group, therefore. It may not be an honorable one or a particularly sympathetic one, but there's a reason why the show needs someone like Pierce in the mix. While external conflicts can bring a group together, internal conflicts are divisive and damaging. And that, at the end of the day, makes for good television. There's something to be said for not finding each and every character a paragon of virtue, or even someone you'd want to spend time with.

The fact that Pierce's presence has irritated some viewers (even me at times), that he's such a trouble-maker and an antagonistic presence, makes Community that much more naturalistic, in the end. Every rose, after all, has its (Haw)thorne.

Next week on Community ("Intro to Political Science"), Greendale holds student elections in preparation for a visit from the vice president, as Annie, Jeff, Leonard, and Star Burns against one another; Abed befriends a Secret Service agent (guest star Eliza Coupe).

Ex-Friday Night Lights Star Adrianne Palicki to Play Wonder Woman

Tyra Collette, here's your lasso of truth.

Former Friday Night Lights mainstay Adrianne Palicki, who starred in FOX's short-lived drama Lone Star earlier this season, has been selected to play Diana in David E. Kelley's Wonder Woman pilot for NBC. The project, written by Kelley, will be directed by Jeff Reiner, who previously worked with Palicki on Friday Night Lights.

Putting aside my thoughts on the project itself for a second, I think that Palicki should be a much bigger star than she is. Her performance as Tyra Collette, which she briefly reprised on Season Five of Friday Night Lights was electrifying: a tough-as-nails teen who fell into an unexpected romance on the show with a most unexpected partner (keeping the FNL plot points to a minimum here). And while I wasn't a fan of FOX's Lone Star, Palicki's performance was a standout and it was fantastic to see her in a more mature, adult role.

But Palicki should know what she's gotten herself into: namely that Kelley has a hell of a lot of work to do on the Wonder Woman pilot script, which has been maligned by many in Hollywood, including yours truly. You can read my take on the truly awful pilot script over at The Daily Beast, in a script breakdown (of the eight craziest scenes) that ran a few weeks back.

Unless Kelley rejiggers the script significantly before production, Palicki will play three versions of WW in the pilot episode: superhero Wonder Woman, high-powered business mogul Diana Themyscira, and Diana Prince, mousy assistant to Etta Candy who lives in a tiny West LA apartment with her cat Desi. Yes, this is a Wonder Woman who wants to have it all! Who is still pining for lost love Steve Trevor, now a lawyer in the Justice Department! And who cries herself to sleep at night!

And, no, I'm not kidding about any of this.

Docu Drama: An Advance Review of Community's "Intermediate Documentary Filmmaking"

Question: What do LeVar Burton, Firefly, and twisted mind games have in common?

Answer: They're all together in one place on this week's sensationally satirical episode of Community ("Intermediate Documentary Filmmaking"), written by Megan Ganz and directed by Joe Russo, which I watched earlier this week. (That was, as you'll learn soon enough, an "explanabrag.")

NBC's Community has already tackled zombie invasions, paintball wars, outer space, and stolen pens with vigor and gonzo spirit intact, so it was only a matter of time before Dan Harmon and his merry band of mischief makers in the writers room would attempt to transform the actual physical format and style of the series for an episode.

In this case, "Intermediate Documentary Filmmaking" does just that, satirizing the mockumentary style of such fellow NBC series as The Office and Parks and Recreation, as Danny Pudi's Abed attempts to make a documentary which shows the study group's reaction to how close Pierce (Chevy Chase) brushed against death itself. Shot docu-style--with all of the talking heads, cutaways, and montages (more on that in a bit) that you might expect--the use of a physical camera in the action here makes sense within the reality established by the series, and the episode itself has quite a bit of fun deflating this particular stylistic device.

As always, I don't want to give away too much about the episode, lest I spoil the experience for the audience. But I will say that the episode serves several functions: it picks up the threads from last week's ending (where Pierce was seen lying on a park bench after overdosing on prescription pills, perhaps in a wish fulfillment scenario out of many a viewers' mind), it challenges the viewer to care about Pierce even as he's behaving in a malicious and cruel manner, and it sets up a number of crucibles by which to test the individual members of the study group.

The latter is effortlessly achieved by the "psychological vengeance" enacted by the (not) dying Pierce Hawthorne, who creates a series of gifts that he bequeaths to each of them from his hospital bed. But these are not mere gifts, but objects that can he use to torment members of the group, who he feels have excluded him and who don't take him very seriously at all. (I'll echo comments made by Joel McHale's Jeff Winger here and say that Pierce's actions this week don't exactly make it easy for them to do so.)

"And so it is bequeathed." The bequeathed items are specific to each of them, targeting a weak spot in their character: Shirley (Yvette Nicole Brown) receives a CD ("compact record") said to contain recorded proof that the group talks about her behind her back; Britta (Gillian Jacobs), a.k.a. "Sourface," receives a check for $10,000 with the "pay to the order of" line blank so she can decide which charity to donate it to; Annie (Alison Brie) gets a family heirloom, a diamond tiara ("Are these blood diamonds?!?!") because she is Pierce's "favorite"; Troy (Donald Glover) gets a chance to meet his idol, Star Trek/Reading Rainbow star LeVar Burton; and Jeff is about to be reunited with his long-lost deadbeat dad.

All of these moments are captured by Abed on film and assembled in the editing bay for maximum drama, which means quick cuts, threaded-in reaction shots, staggered zooms, and emotional montages, which overlay "generic" voiceover with random images to give the final thoughts some real weight, according to Abed. (It's a masterful and rather tongue-in-cheek send-up of Modern Family's closing montages.)

But there's a real emotional weight to the episode as well, seeing how each of the characters deal with the challenge that Pierce has created for them. Will they give in to the treachery that he's concocted? Or will they rise above it? Will Shirley listen to that CD? Will Britta be selfish or selfless? What will Jeff say to the father he's not seen in decades?

And just what is Pierce's relationship to the group? After everything he's pulled of late (destroying the gang's attempts to save Fat Neil via the Dungeons & Dragons game), Pierce has become an antagonistic force within the group, a role previously played by Ken Jeong's Chang. But there are questions of integrity and, well, community that Pierce's nature sets up within the show. He's a part of the group but a divisive part and his actions here don't necessarily engender loyalty from them.

I will say, however, that Pierce's most dastardly action within this episode does have an unexpected consequence and perhaps reveal the true relationship he has to the group. Pierce's words--often racist, misogynistic, or just generally ignorant--often force the study group to say things that they wouldn't normally speak aloud, to confront uncomfortable truths or misguided ideas, to respond to questions raised with certainty and accountability. (Even if, after all, refers to Shirley as the group's new "black swan" now that he's dying.)

Keep an eye out for some other high points of the episode: the scene where Jeff and Britta role-play; Troy's reaction to LeVar Burton (and one the weirdest renditions of the Reading Rainbow theme song); Troy and Abed's suicide pact (with the best Firefly reference ever); Shirley's talking head in a janitor's supply closet; and, well, just about all of it. It's an episode that is set entirely away from Greendale and the study room but the sense of community versus isolation, acceptance versus disapproval, play heavily into the action here.

It's an episode that both celebrates and satirizes the mockumentary format (the search for "profound thematic connection"), as well as the messiness of real life, the speed bumps along the way, and the lessons you learn when you least expect them. A bit like Community as a whole, really.



Community airs Thursday evening at 8 pm ET/PT on NBC.

The Amazing Andy: Michael Emerson Steals the Show on Tonight's Parenthood

While tonight's episode of Parenthood makes mention of the "Amazing Andy," it's the amazing Michael Emerson (Lost) who should be singled out for praise here.

It's been far too long since Emerson--who brought depth and grit to his portrayal of the Machiavellian Benjamin Linus on Lost--has been on my television set, so I was overjoyed to learn that he would be appearing in an episode of NBC's woefully underrated Parenthood as the Amazing Andy. Emerson is the sort of actor that comes around but once in a lifetime, the gifted artisan who manages to walk off with every scene in his pocket so effortlessly.

Tonight's superb episode of Parenthood ("Amazing Andy and His Wonderful World of Bugs") gives Emerson the chance to play a very different sort of character than Benjamin Linus or, indeed, like any other that we've seen Emerson play in his vast career.

While the episode deftly balances several plotlines--including Drew bonding with his errant father Seth (John Corbett), Crosby and Jasmine's relationship fracturing further amid increased pressures and misunderstandings, and Julia and Joel's efforts to have a second baby--it's Emerson who steals the episode here.

Playing a character with Asperger's Syndrome--that would be the Amazing Andy of the title--Emerson imbues him with the sort of traits you would expect to see in a nuanced and realistic portrayal of someone with an autism spectrum disorder: he's methodical, highly specific, and attuned to the way that things need to be done. But the portrayal isn't limited to just those surface-level signifiers; Emerson creates a fully three-dimensional character here, one with flaws and dreams, vision and pluck, humor and pathos.

In a series that has sensitively handled the challenges involved with raising a child with Asperger's, it's no surprise that Parenthood would eventually bring in an adult Aspie, but the way in which the character enters into their lives is both emotionally resonate and laden with humor. While Peter Krause's Adam and Monica Potter's Kristina don't exactly realize at first that Andy has Asperger's, it makes sense that they would see the neurological condition with some blinders, being so focused on Max's well-being. For them, raising a child with Asperger's means shutting themselves off to the possibility that there are adults in the same situation as their son.

Emerson's Andy--who brings his vast collection (and love) of bugs to Max's birthday party--provides the perfect opportunity then for Adam and Kristina to witness a window into Max's possible future. But what they see in Andy isn't something sad or tragic: it's a man who loves his job and who has found a place in the world.

"Crickets can't actually smile," says Andy, giving Kristina a stuffed cricket before he does his (unannounced) walk-through of their house two days before the party. "That would be anthropomorphizing."

Look for a scene between Emerson and Krause at the end of the episode that had me getting misty-eyed as the two discuss happiness. Beautiful, poignant, and understated, it's a fantastic sequence that deals with both Adam's fears for his son and the realization that Max's future can be a happy one.

It's the type of small moment that Parenthood does so well, as it captures the conflicting and often messy emotions of everyday life.

Elsewhere, look for Crosby to be further tempted as he and Max's behaviorist Gaby (Minka Kelly) get closer... and for things between Crosby and Jasmine to get even worse. Despite the fact that they still have a date for the wedding, I'm beginning to believe that these two may not make it to the altar. And events in tonight's episode seriously won't help matters on that front.

There's an interesting scene between Zeek and Seth that shows the long-standing animosity between the two men, as well as an incident involving Drew that might point to the influence that Seth is having on his adolescent life (let's just say that it might not be a positive one), while Lauren Graham's Sarah has to come to terms with the fact that Seth is now a part of her son's life. And Joel and Julia's efforts to conceive lead to a very humorous moment that's entirely hysterical and utterly embarrassing for these two.

All in all, "Amazing Andy and His Wonderful World of Bugs" is a turning point for the second season of Parenthood and a wonderfully emotional and uplifting episode in its own right. Be sure to tune in tonight... and to have some tissues handy.



Parenthood airs tonight at 10 pm ET/PT on NBC.

The Daily Beast: "Goodbye, Friday Night Lights"

Yes, last night marked the end of Friday Night Lights and television--and perhaps the world--is a little sadder for its loss.

I have two connected features over at The Daily Beast that tie into last night's series finale ("Always") of Friday Night Lights. The first is "Goodbye, Friday Night Lights," a eulogy for the show, in which I examine the series' legacy and talk (briefly) to executive producer Jason Katims and series lead Connie Britton about the show's influence and its passing.

The second is a fan-centric gallery-style feature, in which I talk to Katims and Britton about some of the more nitty-gritty aspects of the show. Just what was the deal with Hastings Ruckle? Why wasn't there a finale scene between Jason Street and Tim Riggins? Do they think the Julie/Derek storyline worked? Does Katims still stand behind Season Two's controversial Tyra/Landry plot? Was it tricky to play with the dynamic of Tami and Eric this season? How important was it to tie up the storylines of the original cast? What's next for Britton? And why does she so fondly remember the scent of bacon in the air?

The Ring: Endings and Beginnings on the Series Finale of Friday Night Lights

"Texas Forever."

Those words have been spoken quite a few times throughout the five-season run of Friday Night Lights and each time they've been said with a slightly different meaning in mind. Early on, they represented the optimism and vitality of youth, of dreams for the future that were spoken by those who had yet to learn the lesson of loss. But here, they're some of the last words spoken in the series, a statement of freedom and happiness, yes, but they've been tempered by the experiences of the last few years for Tim Riggins.

It's with a great deal of emotion that we've reached the end of the road with Friday Night Lights, which wrapped up its storylines and left the door open for the viewers to imagine the future ahead for the Taylors, for Julie and Matt Saracen, for Vince and the super-team of the Panthers, for Luke and Becky, and for Tim Riggins himself, finally able to build his house on his land.

The series finale of Friday Night Lights ("Always"), written by Jason Katims and directed by Michael Waxman, was a beautiful and poignant installment that ranks up there with the all-time best series finales, so accomplished in its sense of nostalgia, so true to its tone and its characters, and so willing to give the audience not only what we wanted, but also what we needed.

In many ways, the breathtaking series finale brought the plot full circle back to the show's pilot episode, offering up scenes of the players being interviewed by the news crews, those familiar director's chairs popping up once more on the field. Familiar musical themes made their fitting reappearance here. And the "Texas Forever" spirit that embodied those early conversations between Riggins and Jason Street proudly having reached their apex with Tim finally getting that open land he had dreamed about all of those years before.

Likewise, just as the series began with Tami Taylor considering returning to work, it ends with Tami now taking charge of her destiny and stepping out of Eric's shadow to stand by his side. For his part, Eric has finally learned the lesson of compromise and sacrifice that he tries to impart to Julie and Matt in the restaurant; he's able to finally separate himself from his career to see that his stubbornness is actually killing his wife.

But I'm getting ahead of myself, really. In the hands of Katims and Waxman, this was a finale that not only paid homage to the legacy of the series, to the 75 episodes that came before, but also set up an imagined future for the residents of Dillon, one where they would go on to live out their dreams, even if we, the audience, can no longer be the fly on the wall to these proceedings.

It's fitting that the show ended on such an optimistic note. This has been a series that has found its characters struggling to find happiness in a town--and perhaps a world--that didn't want them to, that offered numerous roadblocks and speedbumps on their quest for personal and communal glory. It was a place where, every week, something went wrong for Coach Taylor and his team, or the individuals that made up this wonderfully vibrant town.

Life goes on, as they say, and the same holds true for these characters. The final coda that Katims offers up, set eight months after the Lions win the state championship (and then cease to exist at all in the process), holds open a window to their futures that lay before them, showing us the Dillon-ites at their very best: Tim and Billy, finally united, building that house together; Vince leading the "super-team" of Panthers, Tinker by his side; Luke embarking on military service, as he's seen off at the bus depot by Becky; Jess in her element on the football field in Dallas; Julie and Matt enjoying a moment of domestic bliss; and, finally, Eric and Tami standing as equals together on yet another field, this time in Philadelphia.

It was, in many respects, an evening of long goodbyes.

There was a grace and beauty to the final sequence amid the state championship, the hushed atmosphere and minimal dialogue, the heartfelt prayer offered by Eric to the team, the elegance of that final soaring arc of the ball overhead. It was, amid a series that prized the silent moments, a nearly silent sequence, save the lilting strains of the instrumentals. I had my heart in my throat throughout, my stomach in knots, my eyes misty. And while we knew that the Lions would roar at the Cotton Bowl and bring home a second ring for Eric, there was something magnificent and triumphant about them doing so, and how the action connected from that final pass to one eight months later in Philadelphia. The circle, it seems, is unbroken.

Kudos to Kyle Chandler for pulling off a tightrope-walk of a performance in these final episodes. It would have been easy to vilify Eric for his lack of support in Tami's career, in his patriarchal mindset that his professional goals would naturally come before those of his wife's, that Dillon was where their Christmas tree was and where they would be staying. But, thanks to Chandler, Eric isn't unsympathetic. He's a product of his environment and his upbringing, yes, but the fact that he supports both his daughter Julie and Jess in their efforts to achieve their dreams point towards a root cause that isn't misogyny; it's miscommunication.

Eric and Tami have always had an understanding about their respective roles in this marriage. Just as Tami is able to turn on the charm at the end of last week's episode when she needs to, Eric sees her as the consummate coach's wife, always willing to rustle up a barbeque or some lemonade when the need arises, to always be there by his side, but not to run ahead of him.

Eric's entire identity is constructed around the fact that he is a football coach and he's made huge compromises in pursuit of that objective, choosing to stay in Dillon rather than go to Florida, defraying his dreams of stability and glory in order to safeguard Vince's and the others'. The conversation between Eric and Tami is one-sided because it doesn't even dawn on Eric that there's even a possibility that he would take a leap into the unknown because his wife has a job offer in the Northeast.

Just as he doesn't congratulate Tami when she receives the offer, so to does Eric not really broach the subject when she tries to bring it up, either forcefully or more delicately. It's not a conversation he wants to have, it's not a possibility he wants to consider, despite the way that his attitude cut Tami to the core. Even, as Tami sobs outside the restaurant and says, "What will I tell my daughter?" Eric still can't bring himself to console her or to make it right.

It's only when he sees his future in front of him, those early morning calls from Buddy, the in-fighting and the politics, does he finally see the offer letter from Braemore right in front of him and sees just what Tami, after eighteen years of marriage, is giving up because she "can't win this fight." It's only then that he makes it right.

The future seems to be a point of contention in a number of storylines in the finale, in fact, from Tyra and Tim's conversation about whether their dreams can "merge" at some point in the future to the marriage proposal offered by Matt Saracen to Julie. Eric's anger at Saracen, his disregard for Matt and Julie's wishes, and his insistence that his daughter is too young are all caught up and reflected in the conflict he's enmeshed in with Tami.

While Julie says that she views her parents as her "inspiration," it's a statement that cuts Tami to her core. Eric makes a big point of the fact Julie and Matt are too young to get married and that he and Tami wed at a very different time. But what signal is he sending to Julie if he makes it clear that his goals are more important than Tami's? Does Eric, at some subconscious level, realize the injury he's doing to both his wife and his daughter?

Just as Camelot can't last forever, neither can Dillon, Texas, it seems. The legend was brought up by Hastings and the others on the East Dillon field last week but it's felt sharply here. There's a sense of promise about the future and Tami and Eric's new start--for all of their new starts in life, really--but there's also a sense that something important and mythical has ended.

I loved that Matt nostalgically got down on one knee in front of the Alamo Freeze and asked Julie to marry him... and that Landry, characteristically, brought up that only a few years earlier Matt was nervous about even talking to Julie. Nice to see the two of them together, if only for that one scene. (I also loved the fact that Tyra, Matt, Julie, and Tim had their scene in the bar together, reuniting a large chunk of that original cast.)

There was a nice sense of symmetry between Julie receiving Matt's grandmother's ring and Eric getting his second state champion ring. I loved the scene between Julie and Lorraine Saracen in the house as Lorraine kissed Julie's hand when she saw her own engagement ring. The theme of family, however non-traditional, seemed woven throughout the episode: Lorraine telling Julie to call her grandma, Becky telling Mindy that they were sisters, Tim telling Becky that they're more than friends: they're family.

That's been at the heart of this series from the beginning: the way that people form something resembling a family, whether that's Coach and the team or the ragtag individuals who end up living with one another, each blending together into something bigger than themselves.

While I'll freely admit that I cried several times during the series finale, one of the moments that got me the most choked up was Becky moving out of the Riggins' house as Mindy and Billy drop her off at her mom' house. The final embrace between Madison Burge's Becky and Stacey Oristano's Mindy was overflowing with emotion; the two have come a long way in their relationship since that first night Becky crashed there after leaving home. There's a kinship there, a sense of sisterly love, that's unbreakable, even at a distance. The single tear on Mindy's cheek as she turns away as Becky is caught up in her mother's arms was heartbreaking in its simplicity.

Another? Seeing how emotional Eric was as he lead the team in prayer one last time, each of them knowing that this would be the last time they'd be taking the field together. And the moment that passed between Eric and Vince? Understated emotion at its best, as Eric told Vince that he would never know how proud of him that he was and how Vince in turn offered his thanks for everything that Coach had done for him. We've always known that Eric Taylor was a molder of men. We see here just how much of an impact he's had on the lives of the men he's trained.

But the moment that really got me was one of the simplest: the sight of Jason Street's name on the wall of the West Dillon Panthers' locker room, right there under the "P," as Billy puts the "Clear Eyes, Full Hearts, Can't Lose" sign to its rightful place. It's a subtle moment that underscores the love that both the audience and the writers had for these characters, for the struggles that they endured, and for the men and women that they became. Their presence is keenly felt just as much as their absence.

Glory might fade, but memories last forever.

NBC viewers will have the chance to watch the fifth and final season of Friday Night Lights beginning April 15th.

The Daily Beast: "8 Crazy Scenes from David E. Kelley's Wonder Woman"

I've been vocal on Twitter about my confusion about why David E. Kelley was given the right to develop DC Comics' 70-year-strong "Wonder Woman" into a pilot script, which was initially passed on and then given an eleventh hour reprieve by NBC, which ordered it to pilot.

Over at The Daily Beast, you can read my latest feature, entitled "8 Crazy Scenes from David E. Kelley's Wonder Woman," in which I sort through Kelley's first draft pilot script to Wonder Woman and choose the most head-scratching, ridiculous, or just plain awful moments therein.

Is this a take on Wonder Woman/Diana that you're excited to see? Or has Kelley gotten the character completely wrong? Head to the comments section to discuss.

Eighteen Years: The Holy Grail on Friday Night Lights

It's nearly time to say goodbye...

This week's penultimate episode of Friday Night Lights ("Texas Whatever"), written by Kerry Ehrin and directed by Kyle Chandler, moved the pieces into place for one final emotional sucker punch as we prepare to say our goodbyes to this remarkable and intelligent series.

It was no surprise that, going into the series finale, things would look so dark and grim, as the future of the Dillon Lions was called into question even as the team prepared for the state championship. In fact, everybody's future seemed up for grabs-- from Tami and Eric Taylor to Tim Riggins, from Luke and Becky to Billy and Mindy Riggins--as the episode offered up a sense that anything was possible as these characters considered their own paths, even as we get ready to see them walk off into the sunset next week.

The result was a beautifully realized episode that was a shining example of the kind of deeply nuanced storytelling that Friday Night Lights does best, creating small moments that echo throughout, of lives lived and loves lost, of passions and dreams, and of paths not taken. With so much on the line for so many of these characters, the episode magnificently set up the final game of their lives, both the shot at the state title and their own individual destinies.

Everyone seemed to be falling apart this week, pondering just what the future held for them. Would Tim stay in Texas or head for the Alaskan pipeline? Would Luke throw off the small-town shackles or would he head someplace similar to Dillon? Would Tami take the Dean of Admission job in Philadelphia? Would Eric return to West Dillon? And would there even be an East Dillon Lions team when the dust settled?

But everyone seemed to be at odds with their own expectations for the future, as a sad wind blew through Dillon. Tim Riggins, haunted by his time in prison, unable to adjust to life on the outside (remarkably encapsulated in that scene where he throws his bedding out of the trailer); Mindy contemplating a future in which Stevie doesn't even know his mother because she's surrounded by twin toddlers; Tami seeing the past eighteen years of her marriage as a constant compromise on her part, rather than a shared journey.

It's this last element that's the most gut-wrenching as we see Eric and Tami struggling in a way heretofore unseen on Friday Night Lights until this point. Throughout the series' run, we've seen these two have their differences but typically always come together in a unified front; however, we're seeing a widening chasm open up between them as Eric can't even bring himself to discuss the possibility of Tami taking the Dean of Admissions gig and moving their family to Philadelphia. For all of his openness, Eric is a traditionalist at heart; he was against Tami going back to work at the beginning of Season One and here he's stubbornly remaining defiant to the idea that Tami's work life could alter their destiny and take them out of Texas.

"We live in Texas," he says. "Texas is where I work. Texas is where I have my job." The thought never occurs to Eric that it might be Tami's chance to lead their family's path and that Eric's coaching job might take a backseat to Tami's opportunity. After all, he wasn't crowing about Texas when he had that offer lined up in Florida, or when he moved the Taylors all over the place numerous times before. But now that there's the very real possibility that he might be marginalized in this decision, he's drawing a line in the sand of Dillon. When Tami asks, "How many times have we moved before for your job," he doesn't have an answer because there isn't a rational, honest one.

Eric's entire identity is caught up in being a football coach and, on some level, he sees Tami as an extension of that identity: the perfect coach's wife, always there with lemonade and an easy smile. But the fact remains that Tami's career has taken off and this opportunity is a great one for their family. Would it take them out of Texas? Absolutely. And is that perhaps a scary proposition? You bet. But it could also be, as Tami says, a blessing, given the uncertainty swirling around the Lions.

And, even after we learn the fate of the team (Dillon will have just one football team: the Panthers), Eric still can't bring himself to even have an adult conversation with Tami on the subject. In fact, he hasn't even congratulated her on the offer, seeing it as less an opportunity and more of an inconvenience. You can sense the heartbreak in her voice as Tami sadly says, "I'm going to say to you what you haven't had the grace to say to me: congratulations, Eric."

This might just be the lowest we've ever seen Tami and Eric and there doesn't seem to be any way of bridging the gap between them. It's a true about-face for one of television's most enduring, beloved, and realistic couples, which might be why the sting of betrayal smarts the most as it seems the steadfast support that Tami has given to Eric over the years isn't quite as generously reciprocated.

Yes, Eric is a loving husband, but he's not allowing Tami to find her destiny in the same way that he pushes his "boys" to on and off the field. Eighteen years is a long time to stand in someone else's shadow and I'm glad that Tami isn't meekly going along with Eric's stonewalling.

When the decision about the future of Dillon football comes down, it's the moment between Vince and Eric that gets me every time: the mistiness in Coach's eyes as he tells Vince that he'll be the star of the Panthers the following year, their embrace which says more than words ever could. Everything that Coach has sacrificed has been for kids like Vince and his generosity and spirit with them make his indifference towards Tami's opportunity all the more glaring.

Elsewhere, the denizens of Dillon had their own struggles in this week's episode, which afforded a number of fantastic two-hander scenes, such as those between Eric/Tami, Eric/Vince, Vince/Jess, Luke/Tim, Tim/Tyra, Tyra/Julie, Mindy/Billy, Luke/Becky, and multiple other permutations. The scene where Tami attempted to reassure Julie that everything would be okay and that her parents loved each other very much seemed so real and so upsetting to both of them, Aimee Teegarden's Julie shrinking in her seat like a small child, her mother's words perhaps making her even more uncomfortable than before.

But the question of love and fidelity seemed to loom large in this episode, as well saw one couple fall apart (Luke and Becky) while others finally came together (such as Vince and Jess and Tim and Tyra). I was beyond pleased to see the return of some familiar faces such as Teegarden, Adrianne Palicki, and Zach Gilford, in this week's episode; the writers have always been generous with wrapping up the storylines of the original cast members and there's a distinct sense of having come full circle here, from the news cameras on the field (reminiscent of the early days of FNL) and the returns of Tyra and Saracen to Dillon.

Tyra's return comes at the perfect time for Tim Riggins, who is debating whether to sell off his land and head to Alaska, to set his sights on something that's inimical to Dillon, it seems. These two have so much history that it's telling that it's Tyra who is able to shake Tim out of his despondence, to make him feel something for the first time in a long time. When these two have their roll in the hay (let's be honest, it was inevitable), it feels like a genuine decision on both of their parts, Tyra drawn back to the past she was so dead-set on running from, Tim opting to feel rather than shut down.

Their moment is echoed, perhaps inversely, by the loss that Julie feels, sitting alone in her car outside of Saracen's house, his #7 Panthers sign on its side in the yard. Her scene with Tyra sums up so much about where both characters are heading, as each admits that Dillon is "a hard place to shake."

Luke, especially, wants out of small town Texas, realizing that his recruitment offer is just trading Dillon for another small town existence. Matt Lauria's scene with Tyalor Kitsch summed up his inner conflict. He loves football but he knows he won't be happy if he takes the offer, D3 school or no. But it's Tim's words that truly seem to hit home, as the Lions prepare to go to state, the last game that this team will play together. "Play it like it's the last time you're ever going to lace up," he says, echoing his own experiences. "Play it that way and then move on."

In the end, the real question on many of their minds is whether they're running towards Dillon or away from it. With just one episode to go, I can promise that the results of that soul-searching will be heartbreaking, powerful, and will stick with you for some time to come. The end, it seems, is finally here, the last game, the last showdown on the field. Will the Lions grab the holy grail at the end of the day? And will these characters seize their destinies? Find out next week.

Next week on the series finale of Friday Night Lights ("Always"), the Taylors face several decisions that could change their lives forever; Coach and Tami are caught off guard by Julie's future plans; the Lions go to state.