If Netflix is best at anything, it’s doing what you least expect. First, it released “House of Cards,” a political thriller so addicting that it garnered a troupe of fans without ever airing on cable. But then, when “Arrested Development”devotees blue themselves in anticipation over the fourth season, most were disappointed with the final product.
Now, there’s “Orange Is the New Black.” The show’s 13 episodes were quietly released July 11, and aside from a few stars, most of the cast is unknown.
Yet “Orange” is the kind of show that is so irresistibly inappropriate, so simultaneously hilarious and gut-wrenchingly dramatic that it’s impossible to stop watching.
Created by “Weeds” mastermind Jenji Kohan, the show’s basic premise is Piper Chapman (Taylor Schilling), a 30-something, Park Slope-dwelling Smith grad with a line of artisanal bath products sold in Barney’s, getting sentenced to 15 months in prison for her minor role in an international drug cartel 10 years earlier .
But here’s where the show really sets itself apart: Piper was involved in the drug cartel because one of its leaders was her girlfriend — an admittance shocking to her current fiance (Jason Biggs). From this first revelation through the next 13 episodes, “Orange” isn’t afraid to delve into the intricacies of homosexual relationships both inside and outside of prison — sometimes quite explicitly. The show brazenly, delicately and honestly depicts bisexuality in a way rarely experienced with television.
“That ’70s Show” star Laura Prepon plays Alex Vause, Piper’s ex, who Piper suspects implicated her in the drug ring in the first place. Prepon is outstanding as Vause. She’s sharp, she’s intelligent and she doesn’t let anyone mess with her, but you can see glimpses of softness and fragility beneath her facade.
On top of its daring plot lines, “Orange” is often hilarious. Lesbian junkie Nicky Nicols (Natasha Lyonne of American Pie fame) and Big Boo (Lea DeLaria) are comedic powerhouses. Taystee (Danielle Brooks) and Pouseey (Samira Wiley) perfectly mock “white people problems” with spirit remarkable for two women who still have plenty of time left on their sentences.
The rest of the cast is equally perfect for their roles. The unique past of each women is revealed through flashbacks: a meth head who believes she’s the agent of God, a Russian chef who rules the kitchen with an iron fist and serves as a mother to the prisoners, a former track star who should have won a scholarship but was caught up with the wrong crowd, a woman who’s obsessed with her fiance though she hasn’t heard from him in months, a transsexual who paid for her surgery with stolen credit cards and even a mother and daughter who are incarcerated together.
Although Piper remains the show’s protagonist, you’ll feel invested in each woman’s story. The characters are raw, the crimes they’ve committed are often not completely clear, and you come to understand that just because they’re in prison doesn’t mean that they’re criminals.
In Jenji Kohan’s universe, morality is ambiguous. We’re dared to look more critically at ourselves when prisoners are good, correctional officers are sadistically corrupt and our heroine makes questionable choices. As one correctional officer observes, we’re really no different than any of the criminals, except that when we did something wrong, we didn’t get caught.
Besides all its crass language, chapel sex scenes and accepted self-segregation (“It’s not racist, it’s tribal.”), what truly establishes “Orange” as groundbreaking is its nontraditional love triangle. Piper isn’t choosing between a vampire and a werewolf, but rather between her former lesbian lover and her current male fiance. Kohan makes these relationships so natural that it seems like we’ve been privy to this type of TV romance for years.
The season ends on a cliffhanger almost as riveting as when Snape killed Dumbledore. When “Orange” returns in 2014, let’s hope it will retain the same balance of humor and drama that pushed us to reflect, reevaluate and laugh this season.
