Throughout our 15 years together, the wife and I have adopted a small handful of TV shows. The first, I believe, was a short-lived series starring Gena Davis as the president of the United States. Then there was Sex and the City, Entourage and the Good Wife. We also used to do the American Idol thing, and even a bit of the Real World.
Last year, our show was the Netflix series, Orange is the New Black.
It was, truly, a great show about life in a woman’s prison for a new inmate from the white collar world. We gobbled episodes up, and when it ended we waited … waited … waited for more.
Finally, Netflix has given us a second season. And, well, it pretty much sucks.
This hurts, because when you follow a show, a certain loyalty is established, and the program becomes “yours.” That’s how I felt about Orange—it was our show; one we watched together, usually in bed, happy and snug and gifted with an hour’s escape.
So what went wrong? Pretty much everything. The story feels stale. There’s a new character (Vee) who turns the African-American inmates into a cult—and it’s annoying and joy-less. The writing has taken an unoriginal turn, where every episode follows almost the exact same pattern—start, banter, flashback, return to modern times, more flashback. Worst of all, the central character (Piper) has been somewhat marginalized, which sucks because her struggles carried the first season.
Tonight, the wife and I sorta waved the white flag, and will begin the search for a new series.
Bummer.
