I'm not the type to rail against such things generally, but IMO it was unnecessary and misguided to remove these episodes: their humor came deliberately from how oblivious Dee was to the offensiveness of her act.

Indeed, her portrayals are usually immediately and explicitly critiqued by her fellow characters as being racist and insane.

[1] https://www.reddit.com/r/IASIP/comments/hflb6t/list_of_its_a...

> After the series' release, a study published in the Journal of the American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry found that suicide among teenagers rose by 28.9% in the month after Netflix launched the show.

A few additional concerns with the paper:

-The authors made no effort to try and determine if any of the people who died had seen the show, or even had heard of it.

-Suicides were up the month before the show was released as well.

-In fact, suicides in that age group had been trending up for years according to their data, which is not mentioned in the discussion of results at all.

> inviting laughter and derision toward the... community

No. Just finding an occasion for the selected direction in creativity. Which the writer of the article seems to want to make ideological, with the exception of one use of the expression "«cheap laugh»" (which, for that matter, may bring attention to the other "celebrated" subplot of "the elders of the Internet" - using the same perspective, it would be as if "making cheap laughs through a sort of "ableism"").

It's a mean spirited gag, and the mere fact of being transgender is the punch line, over and over. It sucks. It makes revisiting the show more cringey and less fun.

The whole episode is about the clumsiness of living, consistently with the project idea ("the IT crowd", outcast specialists with little interface to the public, which is a mass of people thrown into some role "«not doing much work but constantly having affairs»" - confused humans -, with a link which is the portrait of incompetence trying to make a living - trying to live - into something she does not understand). All the characters do is "attempting", trying to fit a role. The difficulties of living roles could be a trigger for the development of the substory involving Douglas Reynholm and April (and the gender instrumental to that). The whole idea climaxes in the "collapse of civilization" when the "stakeholders", as "topmost layer of the role-players", are in front of the catastrophic loss of the Internet, and the "punchline from above" is that of Moss: «It really isn't that funny» - of course, because it is tragic.

While I could see that the "It's over" scene could be to some extent insensitive, given that the writers may have supposed that it would be something lived by a number in such group, it was instrumental to the fight scene, which is a consolidated topos. And the "victory" seems to be on the other side, since the "punchline from inside" is that of Douglas, which ends the episode crying, going "It's not the same!" (It's not the same without her, or him - as she was both the "other half" and the "pal"). So, not only I do not see a phobia, but on the contrary, I see the opposite message, towards seeing people for what they are, and to love that whatever they are (also since the premise of the whole is, as said, that they will be confused imperfect players) - Douglas could not and he is alone crying.

> Whether a show came out in 1955 or 1999, I just enjoy it as a product of it's time.

This is great when one can do it, and I think it's a fine approach. But of course, if you were gay in 1955 or trans in 1999, there's probably a lot of shows where certain issues— common enough at the time— would have really diminished your enjoyment and maybe even triggered some dysphoria, even 'at the time'.

"I mean", as if Douglas Reynholm (the "phobic" - finally, a literal case - in the episode) was drawn as an exemplary character, a model of a human being... "I mean II", I checked on a search engine for the spelling, and the first under-link stub that resulted is «Douglas Reynholm was an incredibly arrogant, self-righteous, pompous, cruel and elitist egomaniac who considered himself to be somewhat above everybody else. He viewed women as objects to feel and manipulate to his incredible sexual mania»...

Now... I will admit, it isn't always wrong (CP). But it often is the fruit of an unwitting narcissism.

with censorship nobody can watch it.

Do we know who actually pulled the content? Netflix clearly doesn't have a policy against streaming partial amount of content when they can't get it all from a provider but it's not clear to me if Netflix pulled a single episode of Community or if the licensers maybe refused to license that episode. I think I read that Sony was supportive of the episode being pulled.

I think most of this content will come back once the industry as a whole sort of figures out the positioning. There are something the creators are embarrassed by and it might never come back but I expect there to be a new rating or something similar (Disney+ does this already) where they'll indicate before the media plays that it may be offensive or insensitive. News shows do this when covering certain types of crimes.

Some smart-ass comic gets up on the stage and leads with "I always said you were the two talented ones in the family."

Ouch. And double-ouch at the big laugh it got from the audience.

I have a lot of mixed feelings about this one; though I don't think the ep should be removed, it is in poor taste and arguably defeats its own comic intentions. I suspect the deeper objection is not to the content per se but how it reads in the context of Graham Linehan subsequently aligning himself as a massive transphobe and making it into a political cause.

I don't know Linehan personally, but grew up near him and followed his career since long before he went into television, when he was writing film and TV reviews in an alt-weekly paper for beer money. He has always been a comic genius, able to turn excruciating social pain into hilarious farce, while also being willing to cheer on success. I remember he once opened a movie review for a film called Eat the Peach with 'At last, an Irish movie that does not make me want to run to the toilets and lick all four walls.'

That kind of self-criticality and emotional nakedness has deep roots in the Irish identity, and it is what makes Roy, an Irish man working for an incomprehensible and irrational corporation in London, such a compelling character. I find the show especially entertaining because I've been that person, doing that exact job, working for those kind of companies in London, often under bosses like Jen or Denholm/Douglas Reynholm. Linehan's character portraits, even for a single episode or scene, are incredibly sharp and truthful. In The Work Outing, where Roy and Moss unwillingly accompany Jen to the theater, there's a scene where Jerome, an extroverted PR guy, is introduced to Roy & Moss. No sooner has Roy diffidently said hello than Jerome exclaims 'Oh my god you're Irish! I love Irish people! They're all mad aren't they! They're just mad!' and the exchange spirals downward into cringe. The whole episode is a comic masterpiece, but this brief scene has a special place in my heart as I've had that conversation hundreds of times in my life.

In this scene but also in general, the engine of comedy is the mismatch between characters who are quirky and self-conscious (like Roy and Jen) and those who are quirky but oblivious (like Moss, Douglas Reynholm, and here, Jerome). When characters go against their 'natural' type they get punished in hilarious ways, by being stuck with the baggage of their transgression which then multiplies itself exponentially. The plot frame for this episode is that Jen tries to be oblivious in pursuit of a date with another oblivious-seeming person, who turns out to be even more painfully self-aware than she is. As in all restorative comedies, the characters who transgress end up feeling worse but wiser, nothing really bad happens, and everything returns to normal.

In The Speech (the 'banned' episode), hopelessly insensitive CEO Douglas Reynholm meets an attractive lady journalist, April, and romance blossoms. Despite her repeated advisories that she used to be a man, Douglas thinks he's found the perfect woman who not just tolerates but admires and enjoys his shallow hyper-masculinity, sharing and even exceeding his love of bad action movies, heavy drinking, and competitive sports. But gradually reality gets through even his dense skull and he ends the relationship - briefly taking responsibility for the situation, before reverting to type and deflecting blame back onto April. Mutual recriminations quickly escalate into a fist fight straight out of a bad action movie, with Douglas wins - thereby regaining his 'boss' status - by knocking April out. He is subsequently shown as being vilified in the press and sobbing over the loss of his erstwhile companion, with whom he was actually compatible.

(Roy, Moss, and Jen are relegated to the less-important plot frame story in this episode, which sets up but is peripheral to the emotional conflict of the main story. In dramatic and thriller forms, the emotional conflict sets up but is peripheral to the main plot action; John Wick is the purest distillation of this.)

The Speech breaks two comedy rules in that the climactic suffering is not just emotional but physical, and something really bad does happen (the knockout). While it's implied that April recovers (going on to write a negative magazine article about Douglas) and Douglas actually feels bad, the comedically awkward social conflict of incongruous gender expectations crosses a line into physical violence which writers normally avoid. The violence is also intense; while this is meant to parody the bad action movies both Douglas and April enjoy, most comedy violence involves characters either flailing around, missing their punches, and blundering into the furniture or escalating quickly to absurd extremes like explosions or natural disasters. Though there are multiple comic touches in the fight scene, it's choreographed as a conventional aggressive fistfight, with a lot of punches to the head in both directions.

This was a bit too close to reality for a lot of people, because transgender women do suffer a disproportionate amount of physical violence up to and including murder, and this often takes place in the context of relationships. Perpetrators often defend themselves in court by insisting that they were deceived by a transgender romantic or sexual partner and acted violently out of fear and panic, which many find wildly implausible. Complaints gradually mounted over a 12 year period and in 2020 the UK broadcaster of the show announced they were dropping the episode from reruns.

Graham Linehan, who wrote and directed the episode, reacted badly, announced he was cutting ties with the broadcaster (after years of fruitful partnership), and went on a vicious tirade on social which eventually led to the suspension of his Twitter account - strangely parallel to the trajectory of the fictional Douglas. Rather than compromising or de-escalating, he raised it to the level of a political issue asserting that his civil rights (of free speech) were under attack and going on to attack transgender people in general in the most vituperative terms. In the context of an ongoing trend of escalating violence towards trans people (nearly doubling in the last year) his increasingly strident position has alienated a great many of his former fans.

Curiously, in doing so, Linehan chanced upon an actual civil rights movement, of women losing single-sex spaces to males who choose to identify as women, and started championing this instead.

Though, many gender critical feminists find Graham's unasked-for presence in their activism rather embarrassing and irritating due to his generally quite aggressive behavior and his occasional bouts of sexism.