Based on Piper Kerman’s memoir of the same name, the series follows a fresh-faced woman from Brooklyn (she’s launching a line of artisanal lotion!) who is arrested for her connection to an international drug operation. What happened, your honor, was this: A decade ago, Piper was in a lesbian relationship and shuttled a large sum of money to Europe for her girlfriend, who worked for a cartel. Someone has named her in an indictment, and before she knows it, Piper is sentenced to 15 months in prison.
“Orange Is the New Black” feels like Netflix’s first real home run since it famously entered the scripted-series biz. I realize some people couldn’t get enough of the contorted “House of Cards” this year, and that the “Arrested Development” niche is still dizzy from their group binge in May, but “Orange” is the first series in which I’d almost insist that viewers upgrade to streaming service and come along for television’s seemingly inevitable future delivery method.
Kohan also created Showtime’s sprawling drug-and-fractured- family saga, “Weeds,” and “Orange Is the New Black” has some of that same comi-tragic feel to it, with a whole lot more depth. Once Piper (Taylor Schilling, doing a perfectly naive little bird) is behind bars, we are introduced to a harsh yet complex array of female characters.
Having bid her boyfriend Larry (Jason Biggs) a tearful goodbye (“Promise you’re not watching ‘Mad Men’ without me,” she begs him, later), Piper quickly wises up and learns to navigate the distrustful exchanges that form her new life. She’s completely thrown to discover that one of the inmates in her wing is the ex-girlfriend (“That ’70s Show’s” Laura Prepon) who got her in all this trouble to begin with.
Watching the show, one begins to realize that all the good parts for women truly have been kept locked up somewhere; now, here they all are, free (in at least one sense) to be portrayed. Within the first six episodes, they are expertly and fully sketched, textured and realized: Latinas, lesbians, an activist nun, a fireman who transitioned into a woman, a housekeeper-turned-murderer, a Russian inmate (Kate Mulgrew) who runs the kitchen and serves Piper a used-tampon sandwich out of initial spite. (Warning: The show is full of gross and intentionally unsettling moments; it is a prison, after all. With any luck, the sandwich will be the worst of it.)