Taylor Schilling as Piper Chapman
For decades, HBO has touted itself with this motto: “It’s not TV. It’s HBO.” Well, I think Netflix might wanna copy that with something like: “It’s not HBO. It’s Netflix.”
For a decade, Netflix was the DVD-by-email company that helped destroy Blockbuster Video. But it knew it had to grow with technology, and its streaming service has become even more popular: Movies on demand. And old TV shows.
And now, exclusive content.
It started this winter with House of Cards, the $100-million 13-part drama with Kevin Spacey, and they followed it this summer with Season 4 of Arrested Development — all with a lot of gay appeal.
But neither of those comes close to the queer delights of Orange Is the New Black. What makes Netflix different than premium cable like HBO (and let’s face it, that network does incredible work, including last night’s season debut The Newsroom) because rather than tease out episodes one-per-week, Netflix dumps an entire season (13 eps) on one day.
That’s what it did with Orange, and watching every episode is how I spent much of my weekend.
What Oz was for gay men with a prison fetish, Orange is for lesbians. Piper Chapman (Taylor Schilling; the real Piper is a consultant on the series) used to date women; for years, she lived with a drug dealer, Alex Vause (Laura Prepon), and led an exciting life (occasionally even transporting money for Alex). But she grew bored with the adventure, met a man, Larry (Jason Biggs, perpetually awkward onscreen ever since he had sex with a pie), fell in love and settled into domestic quasi-bliss.
But her dealings with Alex weren’t over. Years later, the DEA arrests Piper, sending her to federal prison for 15 months for her past involvement. She got to plan her surrender date. She and Larry even got engaged. She’s ready to serve her time “like Martha Stewart” and move on.
But women’s prison is, well, still prison.
At its weakest moments, Orange too much resembled Private Benjamin Goes to the Slammer, with Piper so hopelessly a WASP-princess that it’s almost impossible to feel sorry for her. When her business partner makes a decision without her, she’s miffed. “What was I supposed to do — text you for your opinion?” the partner says. Still, Piper is genetically narcissistic; everything revolves around her.
Only in jail, not so much. She insults the prison cook (Kate Mulgrew), who then starves her out. She leads on a mentally unsound inmate (whom she calls Crazy Eyes), and gets her own stalker. She brushes off some of the corrections officers who take out their frustrations on her however they can.
The series does a good job at balancing life outside the prison and within. We see Larry struggle to live his life with a jailbird fiancee, making several questionable decisions (including going on a radio show with a host meant to be Ira Glass); through flashbacks, we see (a la Lost) how Piper and many of the other women ended up here (nothing is as simple as you think). And they even develop compelling stories with other characters: a Latina who falls for a hot corrections officer, pictured; a transgender inmate (Laverne Cox) who grapples with the prison denying her hormones; a religious nut who targets Piper as the anti-Christ. And there’s a ton of lesbian sex. (Episode 3 is even directed by Jodie Foster.)
Schilling has the sorority girl look to make Piper the Great White Hope, but she can turn steely; Cox is often heartbreaking as the trans woman; and there’s even Lea Delaria as (you guessed it) an uber-butch inmate. Only Pablo Schreiber as a cocky, dumb and mean CO (called Pornstache) seems to be performing in another series, where overplayed goofiness supersedes deadpan humor.
Best of all about Orange Is the New Black? If you get hooked quickly — like I did — you can consume it as fast or savor it as slowly as your schedule allows. No deferred gratification. That’s Piper’s problem; it’s not yours.
