Thursday, July 25, 2013

New Favorite: Orange is the New Black


Netflix's newest series, Orange is the New Black, premiered on July 11th and by now I'm sure you've heard all about it. Maybe it's the people I pay attention to and the blogs I read, but I've been hearing about the series from nearly everyone. Whether it's special blog posts, or friends, or celebrities' tweets, or even Jake Fogelnest on my satellite radio mentioning his love of the show before cuing up its theme song (Regina Spektor's, "You've Got Time"), I can't get away from it. Not that I mind.

I started watching the series about five days after it was released and thank goodness I was sick at the time because I couldn't tear myself away. I was hooked. I watch a lot of television. And I love a lot of shows. But few manage to creep into my heart and consciousness as effectively as Orange did. And aside from the topnotch quality of the show, it was some of the little details that really kept me going. Like episodes directed by Jodie Foster and Andrew McCarthy, or fun little American Pie references made by Jason Bigg's character, Larry.

But I'm getting ahead of myself...

Anybody who has been paying attention knows that Netflix has been producing its own original series for about a year now. And I have to say that Orange is probably my favorite. I enjoyed House of Cards and wholly admired its incredible acting, directing, and general cinematic craftsmanship (all for which it was duly recognized at the Emmy's), but I found aspects of its writing majorly lacking. And everyone who knows me knows how much I love Arrested Development and how quickly I devoured its fourth season, but I had issues with the newest installment's structure. (Note: I realize there are other series as well, but those are the two I've recently reviewed).

Orange is the New Black, however, satisfied me on every level. And really the only thing I could criticize is its stupid title (which it shares with the memoir on which it's based, so I can't fault it too much). Nothing about the show felt bloated or superfluous. It felt consistent, tightly structured, and smartly plotted. And above all else it tells some fantastic stories. Created by Jenji Kohan, the creator of Weeds, the show has a similar absurdist humor to its Showtime predecessor, but it also manages to be dramatic and poignant in a way Weeds never really was. The show's protagonist, Piper Chapman (Taylor Schilling), is incredibly flawed -- she's narcissistic and always managing to piss off the wrong people -- but also sympathetic and relatable. Piper believed she was living her life "right" in her thirties and doing what was expected, but she's been sent to prison because in her twenties she naively conspired in some light drug smuggling (technically she only moved cash, and not drugs, but the damage was done). We encounter the prison world along with our protagonist. We learn its norms and power dynamics through the eyes of Piper, someone who committed a crime out of a youthful sense of adventure and for the love of her drug smuggling girlfriend, Alex Vause (Laure Prepon). So we meet the other inmates along with Piper and share in her feelings of fear and intimidation as she awkwardly navigates this new world. And together we encounter some of the most random and silly things one would ever hope to find in a correctional facility. The season takes an episode or two to properly establish its world and characters, but once everything is set up the show really takes off.

For only thirteen episodes, a lot of rich storytelling happens on Orange. The show utilizes Lost-like flashbacks to explore the backgrounds of various inmates. And like on Lost, this absolutely enriches the show and its cast of characters. It also lends itself to the show's heart as we now have a fuller understanding of who these women are, what went wrong in their lives, and where their sense of redemption is rooted. And once these women take form, we see that they are just as flawed and complex as Piper. And adding to that heart is the prisoners' sly camaraderie. Yes there are fights and breakups, misunderstandings and blatant cruelty, but through all of that, these women also know how to be kind to one another -- as demonstrated by various moments throughout the series.


The inmates segregate themselves by race. And if this were some other type of show I would half expect Piper to unite and blend the colors á la Sillyville. But Piper is no Sillywhim and that in no way happens. The white blonde woman isn't there to save anyone or to enlighten or educate the poor ignorant prison folk. Instead Piper keeps her head down and handles one reality check after the next as she struggles with finding her place within prison society. There are power dynamics already in play and Piper is just trying to keep her head above water.

We also learn quickly that none of these characters are purely good or bad. Yes they're all criminals so they all have a dark past and are processing lots of guilt and loss. But that's an unsaid commonality that manages to even the playing field. They're presented as not any better or worse than their correctional officers. Things get heavy on this show, but instead of everyone hashing out their emotional baggage, these women bring about an incredible sense of humor and lightness. (Which, according to an actual inmate, seems to more accurately portray prison-life than the gritty portrayals like Oz). We regularly see affective cracks in façades while certain character reveals are genuinely surprising (like Crazy Eyes' family). And the show is all the better for it. Through Piper's eyes we realize this is a prison full of sour patch kids: first they're sour...then they're sweet. And it leaves my heart just as gooey.

The show demonstrates a similarly deft hand at addressing things like race, class, gender, sexuality, and religion. I for one absolutely admire how the show presents the fluidity of female sexuality and even gender. Things that other shows struggle with portraying accurately, things they may ignore completely or use to stem conflict, are simply presented here without much fanfare. And it's incredibly refreshing. For example, the transexual character of Sophia (played by transexual actress Laverne Cox) for whom we get a backstory, but who also feels like an actual person with her own sets of values and troubles. She's more than a token trans character.

I also very much appreciate being presented with such a diverse cast of women. No other show has this large a cast of females let alone ones that are this richly drawn. And to put them in a prison in dull, ill-fitting outfits? That's nearly unheard of! (But by this point we should all know I'm all about girl power so I'll try not to gush too hard about womanhood).

I watch a lot of television. I binge watch just as much as I watch week-to-week. And there's much of it that I admire on both the technical side and creative side. But very few shows stick with me like Orange has. I'm not exactly sure when it hit me, but I finished the season on Sunday and it still hasn't left my system. There's something about it I can't quite shake and I'm not quite sure what it is. So I implore you all to watch it and figure it out with me. You'll surely thank me later.

I mean, the most zen character, Yoga Jones, is played by the voice of Patti Mayonnaise. If that doesn't get you to watch this show, I don't know what will.

Tuesday, July 23, 2013

In Which I Weigh In On The Sex and the City

Yesterday Emily Nussbaum, The New Yorker's television critic, shared her most recent critique with the twitterverse, sparking much debate, dialogue, and discussion. Nussbaum bravely addressed the struggling legacy of a still relevant HBO series: Sex and the City. I say "bravely" because in the world of television criticism, SATC's "legacy" hasn't aged very well. Actually, it is a regularly divisive topic among not only critics, but audiences as well. For example, Vulture's Sitcom Showdown pitted SATC against the very recently departed and beloved 30 Rock and ultimately gave the win to SATC. The comments exploded in so much ire and shock that Vulture actually compiled the best (AKA most disappointed and angriest) reader comments and devoted a whole other post just to that. Because it was one thing for 30 Rock to lose in the first round. But for it to lose to Sex and the City (!?!?!) was absurd. (The fact that the winner would then have to face off--and surely lose--against Seinfeld seemed irrelevant at the time). Similarly, when Nussbaum linked to her SATC piece yesterday, much twitter debate followed. And eventually other writers weighed in with their own think pieces. [1][2][3] Because how could Sex and the City even compare to quality shows like The Sopranos? How could we compare Carrie to Walter White? How is SATC any more groundbreaking than The Mary Tyler Moore Show or Golden Girls or Six Feet Under? Is Sex and the City even that feminist of a show?

I for one completely understand the divisiveness surrounding Sex and the City. Even my own opinion on the show is at odds with itself, which you will see if you continue reading.

I've seen every single episode of Sex and the City, but I was never a die hard fan. It was funny and entertaining, but I never admired it or looked up to it. I never took cues about how I should dress or act or what my drink order should be. But then again, I was also never a girl who loved romantic comedies, which SATC arguably is (don't get me wrong, there are great romantic comedies but in general I'm not much of a romantic). So I always realized this show wasn't necessarily for me. I don't really enjoy sitting around talking about my relationships. I don't use conversations about sex to relate to other people. Not that there's anything wrong with that type of person. Some of my closest friends are that way. Even my sister. And they love SATC. To be honest, I was always under the impression that most women are that way and that most women love SATC. They sit around at brunch and talk about their relationships just like the SATC quartet. And not always in an emulating way, but in a realistic way--because that happens to be an actual thing many women do. I'm female. I've been there. I've seen it. Its how some people relate to the world. Whereas I use conversations about TV (duh), films and books--and others use politics or music or sports or comedy--some women use conversations about their love lives to connect with others. What SATC did was validate those conversations in an unprecedented way. Even though I never really related to it too intensely, I always recognized what it meant to the people that did relate. Ultimately thats the root of SATC's legacy.

So to everyone calling SATC out for its faux feminism, lets just ease up a tiny bit. I'm not necesarrily defending the show, but SATC wasn't made for people like me and it wasn't made to be picked apart. It wasn't made in the day of weekly recaps and blogs about television. Or when there was a buttload of top quality programming being produced. Yes, there are much more feminist shows. Shows that are actually grounded. That have flawed heroines and a wider range of female "types". Shows that actually have a lot to say about femininity. Like Girls, Orange is the New Black, and Enlightened.

But that's not really fair to SATC. Because SATC was made in a different time for a different type of audience. It was approachable and oftentimes hilarious. And it was at one time a hugely groundbreaking show that has absolutely influenced today's television landscape. Its values have not held up well. And its schmaltzy voiceovers sure as hell haven't. But what it means to women still has. Otherwise there wouldn't be a freaking prequel on air (Carrie Diaries) nor would other shows explicitly reference its influence on today's women (see Shoshanna on Girls or Maggie's meltdown on The Newsroom). In some ways SATC ushered in a new type of female. And that is exactly why it has touches of feminism. As Nussbaum explains:
"Most unusually, the characters themselves were symbolic. As I’ve written elsewhere—and argued, often drunkenly, at cocktail parties—the four friends operated as near-allegorical figures, pegged to contemporary debates about women’s lives, mapped along three overlapping continuums. The first was emotional: Carrie and Charlotte were romantics; Miranda and Samantha were cynics. The second was ideological: Miranda and Carrie were second-wave feminists, who believed in egalitarianism; Charlotte and Samantha were third-wave feminists, focussed on exploiting the power of femininity, from opposing angles. The third concerned sex itself. At first, Miranda and Charlotte were prudes, while Samantha and Carrie were libertines. Unsettlingly, as the show progressed, Carrie began to glide toward caution, away from freedom, out of fear."
Now that's all well and good and there's absolute value in what SATC was trying to say about womanhood. But to me, a truly feminist show isn't a show just for woman. A truly feminist show also has male viewers and presents men and women as equally capable and equally flawed. A truly feminist show actually passes the Bechdel Test.

Yeah, I turn my nose up at Sex and the City as much as the next pretentious critic. But I still acknowledge the impact of the show. And the fact that these intense analyses and conversations continue to happen implies that SATC deserves a tad more scrutiny. And last spring, when SATC lost to 30 Rock (a show I much prefer and which is much more in line with my personal tastes, humor, and outlook), I sort of agreed with it. Because as much as I love 30 Rock and admire Tina Fey and her charming yet influential little show, I also value characterization, risks, story lines, emotional moments, and actual consequences. And while much of what I just listed isn't SATC's strongest suit, it goes for it. And its everything 30 Rock isn't. 30 Rock is pure humor and doesn't give a crap about development. So I hate to break it to the commenters, but Vulture got it right. Believe me, it pains me to say it because to me, SATC can be irritating.

Because to me, there's more to a woman than her relationships and her shoes. And don't get me started on Carrie's stupid little puns and thoughtful glances out the window in the smokey glow of a laptop screen (which is literally me at this very moment). I personally don't need to pick apart every aspect of mine or anyone else's romantic interactions (and don't really see why we need to). And I certainly don't need male attention to validate who I am. Because I already know who I am. Women love saying they're a Carrie, Samantha, Miranda, or Charlotte. But I know I'm none of them. I'm an entirely different kind of female New Yorker. I'm Liz Lemon.



(See? It's divisive.)