The demise of the Hollywood movie with substance and character may have been the impetus to alleged second coming of "The Golden Age of Television," which itself may have led to alternative channels of creative programming, of the ilk that movie studios have little interest to invest in. Whatever hyperbolic passages have lead us to what where we are now in this contemporary and confusion landscape of media, the ballsy folks in charge of Netflix seem clearly tuned to something-- something special, something weird, something challenging and daunting and surprising. The magnitude and game-changing hosannas may materialize into nothing, once digested, but Netflix's new original series,
Orange is the New Black is, at first glance, on mere face value, is rich and ripe with character and spark, the type of which Hollywood filmmakers have nearly completely neutered themselves free of, and joins the ranks of the most addictive and sharply etched serials currently navigating our regular air-waves.
Compulsively watchable and thoroughly engaging,
Orange is the New Black, created by Jenji Kohan (
Weeds) and based on the memoir by Piper Kerman, the show takes place in a rather dreary place-- a minimum security correctional facility for women-- yet is never dreary in itself. Before you notice the rich tapestry of an ensemble cast-- played by a wide variety of extraordinary female characters, of which are of nearly all colors, sizes and ages-- or before the stories engage in their binge-worthy way, the take away from the beginning of
Orange is the New Black is it's clearly established tone. It's not quite a tragedy, nor a comedy, but something nearly inarticulately pitched in the center, where absurdity meets realism and cynicism meets compassion. Pitched somewhere as a wry
Oz meets George Cuckor's
The Women, the greatest asset Kohan asserts in her series is a lack of judgement and an abundance of humanity and understanding, coupled with a pay-TV penchant for strong language and nudity.
