Before the sickness in
“Epidemiology” reaches epidemic proportions, Annie seeks help, not
surprisingly, from a man wearing a lab coat and a stethoscope. “I’m not a doctor,” he tells her, but
fortunately a doctor dressed like a banana is standing right behind her. So it goes in an episode of Community in which things are not as
they seem: the taco meat is actually surplus rations; characters are mistaken
in their Halloween costumes (Shirley is Glenda the Good Witch, not Miss Piggy);
the biggest misunderstanding, though, involves the outbreak, which is believed
to have originated from the “taco meat” before spreading via Pierce’s and
others’ bites. The belief among the
study group that a zombie apocalypse is in effect is an imposition, an
intentional combination of concept and form that best explains their circumstances,
but results in the mythification of their experience.
Barthes describes myth as a
“second-order semiological chain,” which “is constructed from a semiological
chain that came before it.” Myth
“[shifts] the formal system of the first signification sideways.” As the index case, Pierce is initially viewed
as the sign of a first order system.
Simply put, his behavior and appearance shortly after eating the taco
meat, strange even by Pierce’s standards, signify sickness. Only later when he bites Starburns and when
others begin to mimic his behavior does the group apply the concept of “zombie”
to all those infected—those similar in form to Pierce. The “constantly moving turnstile” of sign and
form is apparent as different members of the study group debate their next
move. Annie proposes that they help the
infected, to which Jeff replies, “You mean help
the zombies?” Shortly after, Annie offers
a rebuttal: “Guys. Those are not
zombies. Those are our classmates, and
they’re sick.” If one considers the
infected sick, he or she cannot simultaneously think of them as zombies, and
vice-versa. A certain amount of
compassion is gained or lost depending on the lens through which one views
these events.
Annie does not get the opportunity
to help the sick because she, too, becomes victim of a zombie horde. Though her transformation is not a result of
the attack (everyone was “mass-roofied,” Britta later explains), she also
applies concept to form, though to her credit and everyone else’s when the
sickness takes effect, their intoxicated status does not make them the most
capable of choosers between first order and second order systems of
meaning. However, the zombie episode of
“Epidemiology” is just an extreme version of the forms characters consciously
deal with earlier in the episode.
Halloween, after all, is an exercise in forms in which people transform
themselves in order to terrify. The
concepts attached to these forms—costumes, in this case—are intentional but
inevitably become “confused.” Troy, for
example, changes his original costume of alien-fighting cyborg to “Sexy
Dracula.” Abed asks, “don’t you mean
‘Sexy Vampire?’” hinting that Troy is confusing specificity for a
generalization.
Simply dressing up in costume is an
example of reducing sign to form, thus stripping it of all its meaning. For Shirley to enact Glenda the Good Witch, she must reduce Glenda to a concept
that is recognizable by others, something she is not able to do successfully. Pierce strips his costume of meaning by
dressing up as a generic Star Trek
character (is he Kirk? Scotty? Someone else?). Jeff chooses an interesting concept and form
for his David Beckham costume; rather than dress as a soccer player, he dresses
in an expensive suit. The concept
applied to the form (and the resulting signification) is “David Beckham, model.”
All of these costumes, not to
mention those of the other main characters, point to Community’s critique of the modern Halloween celebration: the
holiday itself has become a myth, or “the appropriation of a concept.” The juxtaposition of George Takei’s narration
with the incongruous dress, music, and events reveals the distorted nature of
Halloween as we know it: “Halloween—a time of vampires, hobgoblins, draculas,
boogens, and headless mice.” Cut to the
party—Takei’s terrifying intimations are displaced by Abba’s “Waterloo.” The partiers, at least, could dress the part,
but none of their costumes elicit fear.
Jeff, arguably, is not even in costume; Shirley looks more like Miss
Piggy than anything else; Britta is a cute T-Rex. Among the rest of the regulars, Pierce is a Star Trek character, Annie is Little Red
Riding Hood, and Dean Pelton is Lady Gaga.
Abed is dressed as the Alien,
but even that does not signify Takei’s traditional description of
Halloween.
What is really happening in the
mythification of Halloween is the creation of yet another semiological level,
one in which Halloween becomes a form endowed with its own concepts. Those concepts are costumes, music, parties,
food, etc. The vagueness of these
concepts allows for a lot of play with regard to the type of music people
listen to and the types of costumes they wear.
At this moment in time, “a whole new history [has been] implanted in the
myth” of Halloween. Whereas people
dressed like vampires in the past, even tame vampires resembling “The Count”
from Sesame Street, people now dress
like a banana or a doctor. The what? of dressing up is no longer as
important as the act. Neither is the
type of music important, as evidenced by the Abba set list that spans the
duration of the party; more important is the inclusion of music, period.
The events that transpire in
“Epidemiology” are not just about the watering-down of Halloween, for we have
maintained a degree of terror from Halloween’s original (if we can claim that)
sign. We have also compartmentalized it
into what we see rather than what we experience. Thus when shocking events begin to happen in
the episode, characters attach concepts to the events more fit for movies,
leading to a clash between myth systems: Halloween is an event in which one
gets together with friends at a party—a Christmas with costumes—or it is a
narrow escape from zombies. Or in Community’s case, it is both—a perfect
demonstration of the non-fixity of signification.
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