Monday, July 21, 2014

Orange is the New Black Season 2

The second season of Orange is the New Black ends with the funniest example of vehicular homicide ever put on television. With Don’t Fear the Reaper playing in the background, it served as a fitting conclusion to a stellar season of television. The first season of the Netflix series, which I reviewed here, was one of best surprises of 2013. In 2014, the show improved upon its first season by continuing its investigation into the largely forgotten women (and a few men) who inhabit America’s prisons.
            At its core, Orange argues that the penal system is invariably and undeniably broken. Anyone who tries to improve the system succumbs to the institutional inertia that stands in the way of meaningful reform. Even worse, the institution finds a way to punish anyone who dares challenge it by stripping away their good intentions piece by piece. At the end of the season, Joe Caputo, a well meaning, if sleazy prison administrator replaced corrupt assistant warden Natalie Figueroa. Caputo frequently spoke of his plans to change the prison with Figueroa gone. Yet on his first day, Caputo compromises his values to protect a criminal act by a prison guard in the name of protecting his hold on the job and promises of bettering the prison. The show also traces the efforts of Healey, a prison counselor, to regain the passion he once had for his job. When Piper complains to him about the problems with other inmates stemming from her successful furlough, Healey reminds her that despite all the difficulties and rules, he occasionally can do something humane for a prisoner and she should be grateful.
            In its second season, Orange continued to rely on its diverse and expansive cast to shed light on the most marginal prisoners in an oft-ignored institution. In these forgotten characters, Orange offered its most savage critique of the federal prison system. The refusal of the administration to pay for Rosa’s cancer treatments brought the prospect of dying alone and behind bars into horrifying focus. Having lost her position running the kitchen, Red (the wonderful Kate Mulgrew) became the leader of the Geriatrics—the old women in the prison. They point out to Red how everyone in the prison ignores them—including Red herself.  When the prison administrators discover that Jimmy, one of the Geriatrics, has dementia, they grant her a “compassionate release.” What the prison views as an act of mercy is Jimmy’s death sentence. The other prisoners believe that Jimmy, armed only with a bus ticket and without family or anyone who cares about her, will be dead within a week. With these neglected prisoners, the show reminds its viewers of the failures of the prison system.  
            The character of Vee (Lorraine Toussaint) reveals how individuals cannot bend corrupt institutions solely to their will. After her arrival at Litchfield, Vee recruits the other African American prisoners to help her regain her power. As their leader, Vee offers them a new purpose—becoming the new power in the prison. Quickly, Taystee, Janae, Black Cindy, and Suzanne become Vee’s foot soldiers; selling cigarettes, manhandling fellow inmates, and eventually dealing heroin. Vee’s gave Suzanne attention and respect, transforming her into a violent and loyal enforcer. Her manipulations nearly allow her to escape the consequences of her actions as Suzanne proves willing to take the fall for Vee’s attack on Red. Yet Vee’s willingness to manipulate others for solely for her own benefit and at the expense of everyone else becomes her undoing. By attacking Red, exploiting Suzanne, playing Poussey and Taystee against each other, and finally turning on the other black women, Vee proved too disruptive to the prison ecosystem. Even Healey, Caputo, and the Geriatrics recognized the need to get rid of her. It is then fitting that she meets her fate outside, rather than inside, the prison—cast out of the system she sought to control.
            Orange contains a few problematic and distracting weaknesses, most of which carried over from the first season. Piper Chapman (Taylor Schilling) served as the audience surrogate and entrance point into the world of Litchfield. Piper’s realization that she bears little resemblance to herself before her incarceration offers hope of tying her story into the larger themes of the show. Yet at times Piper’s world—especially her interactions with her lesbian lover and partner in crime Alex (Laura Prepon), her ex-fiancĂ© Larry (Jason Biggs) and all of his Larryness, and her family and friends—seem to exist in a world separate from the prison. She barely interacted with Vee or most of the other women in the prison. Piper and Alex’s relationship or Larry’s affair fail to offer anything meaningful.

Some other observations:

            The pregnancy storyline involving Bennett and Daya continues to underwhelm. Neither actor brings much to their repetitive and frustrating interactions.  Whereas Orange has important things to say about women’s prisons, it still has not mined anything useful out of this particular plot line.

            The flashback structure can be useful, but also has limits. Piper’s flashbacks and a few of the other ones, like Black Cindy, did not illuminate anything about the characters. On the other hand, the flashbacks featuring Morello, Rosa, and Sister Ingalls offered some nice shading.

            The show also grappled with mental illness by revealing that Morello had fabricated the entire relationship with her fiancĂ©, Christopher. It provided her with a nice moment of bonding with the similarly broken Suzanne. After the confrontation with Christopher, Morello managed to put herself back together through kind words from Nicky and Piper, culminating in her act of kindness towards a dying Rosa.


            Vee also offered an improvement over last year’s villain, Pennsatucky. Vee became a fully formed character, while Pennsatucky never moved beyond a cartoon. This season she remained an odd character—featuring some kind of performance by Taryn Manning, I’m just not sure what kind. 

Sunday, July 6, 2014

Edge of Tomorrow

            The oddly named Edge of Tomorrow—how can tomorrow have an edge?—succeeds as an old fashioned summer action movie. The film features a video game style plot, reminds us of Tom Cruise’s charisma, and balances Cruise’s excesses with dark humor and a physically superior Emily Blunt.   
Edge of Tomorrow purees video games, Groundhog Day, Saving Private Ryan, and alien invasion movies into one mostly coherent plot. Cruise plays a PR flack for the army assigned to cover a Normandy style invasion against alien invaders. After unsuccessfully trying to blackmail a general (Brendan Gleeson) to get out of the assignment, Cruise winds up as a foot soldier on the front lines. The invasion fails and Cruise dies, but he manages to steal the aliens’ secret power—he can reset the day of the invasion over and over. Cruise meets Rita (Emily Blunt), the “Angel of Verdun,” who once had and lost the same ability. The two team up with a scientist and plot expediter (Noah Taylor), to defeat the alien invasion. You can guess how the film goes from there. The film’s World War 2 analogies are as subtle as a hammer to the head. The invasion emanated from Germany, the Russians (and Chinese!) are fighting on the Eastern front (presumably so the West can later ignore their contributions), the Allies (known as the United Defense Force) launch their invasion 5 years into the war, and land in NORMANDY.
            The film relies on Cruise’s charisma to carry the film. He possesses an impressive ability to command the screen. At the beginning of the film, he’s cocky, smarmy, and a little full of himself. So he’s Tom Cruise. Then he dies, again and again. Whether we love or hate him, he dies for us. His deaths elicit our sympathy and our laughter. The first time he’s killed his face melts. After each death, Cruise is reborn, again and again. The smug asshole transforms into a man desperate to survive. Every time he dies, Cruise gets a little smarter, a little better. He keeps trying and failing to save humanity from alien invaders who look a lot like those robot things from the Matrix movies. By the end of the film, Cruise succeeds, flashing that brash smile from Top Gun. Love him or hate him, he lives to entertain his audience—even desperately so.
             Edge of Tomorrow recognizes that Cruise works best by giving him a powerful woman to play off of. Instead of relegating Blunt to the role of damsel in distress, she proves superior to Cruise in most ways. Having already been through the same experience, she’s initially a step ahead of him. She trains Cruise up to fighting strength and seems to enjoy shooting him in the head over and over to reset the day. There’s an obligatory kiss between the two of them, but it’s not horribly off putting. She offers a physicality and hard assed attitude that prevents Cruise’s charisma from reducing her to a sideshow.

            Edge of Tomorrow succeeds because it remembers that the first duty of a summer movie is to entertain. Instead of moving plot points in a franchise, trying to set up a new franchise, or making catchy pop culture references, the film just tries to be entertaining. It mines a lot of dark humor from killing Cruise in so many different ways. His exacerbation at the whole situation becomes our outlet for laughter. His face melts, he gets run over by trucks, shot in the head by Emily Blunt, crushed by crashing planes, and gets a hole blown in his chest. But he wakes up again yesterday and it’s all okay. In the end, humanity triumphs, Cruise gets to be himself, and we all walk away happy. What’s wrong with that?