Remedial Chaos Theory is the greatest Community episode. It represents the show at its creative and narrative peak, with a denouement that could potentially serve as the endpoint for a series that began with a fraud lawyer enrolling at a wacky community college. If Modern Warfare ushered in an era where Greendale became Dan Harmon's conceptual playground to experiment in, and season 2 pushed these silly sitcom boundaries to new heights, then 304 ("No, 303. I wrote it down twice.") is the apex of every narrative thread and arc that began with a fake study group formed under the guise of getting with the "hot blonde from Spanish class".
In the background, the group's dynamics had been gradually evolving from Pierce's brief spell as the show's villain, culminating in an explosive, paint-splattered, two-part finale that had the black sheep of the group finally admit that he had outgrown their friendship. It was a sobering, introspective moment that was disappointingly rendered obsolete when Pierce casually strolled back into the frame come the season 3 premiere. But you can imagine and then observe how age and maturity play a complex role in how the group bounce off each other. Jeff takes a leadership role in the extended struggle with Pierce's manipulation throughout the second season, and these are excellent episodes that could excel even without their conceptual frameworks; after all, they're just sitting around in a hospital or playing an imaginary fantasy game at a table. His outbursts towards Pierce's attempts to ruin a feel-good game of Dungeons & Dragons or at being emotionally dragged through the slender hope of reconciling with his father are justified yet thinly-veiled cover-ups of his own insecurities and hypocrisies ("I don't like being excluded, Jeff. Do you? YES!"), and they also function as examinations of what happens when one of the group go rogue or missing. In Remedial's timeline number 3, Pierce is chosen to get the pizza, and so Jeff defaults to being the oldest male, and lashes out at Troy's youth as a way of compensating. The entire premise of the episode itself is a classic Winger gambit, the same manipulative con that he accuses Pierce of daily.
Pierce's redemption occurs when he realises that Troy has found his own happiness independent of his wealth (a common guilt-tripping tactic of his), but Troy's own growth comes as a broader step forward for his character. His own timeline may result in the most elaborate punchline of them all (the slow zoom into the troll's face gets me every time), but it also speaks to his increasing importance in the group's dynamic: without his lovable goofiness, they descend into chaos. Moving into his own apartment signals a step towards maturity that threatens Jeff's authority, hence all the snide shots towards his and Abed's hijinks. We had already witnessed Troy's coming of age in Mixology Certification, one of the most understated pieces of character work in Harmon's oeuvre. In that episode, his transition into adulthood comes not at the stroke of midnight, but when he assumes the role of parent after the study group's mum and dad end up in a drunken squabble. Discovering that the pair have been arguing over the same bar all night, Troy realises that two of his main role models are faking it as much as the rest of us.
Remedial gets the Britta of it all right: a headstrong activist who isn't nearly as smart as she wants to be, but is a lot kinder than she will give herself credit for (see the resolution of her internal moral crisis in Intermediate Documentary Filmmaking). I've been pretty critical of the show's treatment of her in the past, in her slow descent into a running punchline, and in how her arcs are mostly inconsequential in the later seasons until they just...end. Being so defiant in her self-reliance that she would rather ostracise herself from her parents than receive their charity sounds exactly like a Britta move, but why would that lead to her mooching off her friends? Here, she is the right mixture of goofiness ("Pizza Pizza, in my tummy!") and wisdom, bonding with Troy by pointing out the value of his own brand of masculinity. It's a compliment she wouldn't afford herself, which makes it all the more meaningful.
Abed's Winger speech at the close reminds us of what each character brings to the group, and how their pizza trip shows us what life would be like without them. Annie's the most driven and the one who takes her responsibilities seriously, and so she fetches the pizza without a hitch, and none of the chaos ensues. Shirley's storyline at best emphasises her caring nature, although it nevertheless begins a trend of Harmon winking at her lack of development without ever taking steps to actually address it (baking is her identity, and later on her two kids). Abed himself is the metaphorical glue that holds them all together; without him, old tensions re-surface, characters are mismatched (the kiss being delivered to shippers in the worst way possible), and it all goes wrong like a bad sitcom crossover.
It all returns to Jeff, to that hotshot lawyer who arrived at Greendale hoping for an easy pass and a fast-track back to his old life. Britta's carefree attempts at belting out Roxanne speak to how comfortable she in the group, so why isn't Jeff? I distinctly remember picking up on the fact that Jeff had slyly excluded himself from picking up the pizza the first time I watched the episode, and had hoped it would pay off. It does, karmic style. The lingering shot of Jeff smiling at the goofballs in the living room dancing to The Police is the culmination of every set-up in the broad story circle that is Dan Harmon's Community; caring is a lethal disease around here, and he's finally caught it. He might not admit in that moment how much he cares about them, only spelling it out in the season finale, but he doesn't have to. We already know.
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