Orange is the New Black Season Seven Review and Retrospective

The end of Orange is the New Black marks the end of an era for streaming television. It might be hard to fathom now, but when Netflix launched Orange is the New Black and House of Cards within months of each other in 2013, no one was sure if the nascent television network (which, until that point, had been solely known as a place to watch older shows and films) would be able to successfully pivot to original content. Seven years ago, the content juggernaut we know today was simply trying to get its foot in the television door. And it was trying with two incredibly different shows: A soapy political drama headlined by a two-time Oscar winner and produced by an Oscar-nominated writer, and a show about a privileged white women going to federal prison that starred a bunch of unknowns, a few recognizable faces from recent projects, and a couple of older women trying to revive stalling careers. If I were a betting woman, I know which one I would have put money on being the more successful of the two, and which one I would have thought would have the more satisfying overall arc. Sure, some outside issues may have contributed to House of Cards bowing out with a whimper, but the series was in a tailspin several seasons before the end. And, if we’re being honest, it definitely looked like Orange is the New Black was heading for a similarly weak final chapter. But, if we’ve learned anything from watching the ladies of Litchfield the past seven years, you can’t underestimate the brilliance of Jenji Kohan and her crack team of writers.

Before I get into my dive into the excellent final season of Orange is the New Black, I wanted to take a few moments to acknowledge just how crazy it is that a show like this made it seven seasons at all. Back in 2013 the TV landscape was vastly different than it is today, and so many of the positive changes we’ve gotten in terms of increased diversity in the medium likely have their roots in the success of Orange itself. Just think about how many incredible actresses of color we’ve been introduced to just on Orange: Uzo Aduba (Suzanne), Danielle Brooks (Taystee), Samira Wiley (Poussey), Dascha Polanco (Daya), Laura Gomez (Blanca), Laverne Cox (Sophia), Diane Guerrero (Maritza), Adrienne C. Moore (Black Cindy), and  Selenis Leyva (Gloria). And that’s only the major characters. I’m not sure you could find a show with a deeper bench than Orange. And on the flip side, the series rejuvenated the careers of Kate Mulgrew (Red), Natasha Lyonne (Nicky), Taryn Manning (Pennsatucky), and Laura Prepon (Alex). No Orange, no Russian Doll. And it made clear that Taylor Schilling was capable of playing more than just the blond girlfriend (even if the show’s fascination with Piper was often more intense than it deserved to be).

Finding a trove of actresses who had been overlooked or underestimated by the usual Hollywood power players would be a strong legacy in and of itself. But, naturally, Orange is the New Black would never be satisfied with just that. Nope, the series also managed to unflinchingly attack some of the most complex and troubling issues facing our world today. From giving LGBTQA+ characters a face and a voice throughout its run (again, something that wasn’t nearly as prevalent back in 2013, and something that was rarely handled with as much grace and thought as it was on this show), to acknowledging the prison industrial complex and shining a light on all of its dark crevices, Orange will have a place in more than just television history for the stories it was willing and able to tell. Hell, season seven’s most successful and absolutely shattering arc was its foray into the world of ICE detention. Putting multiple human faces on that current atrocity was something that not only made for incredible television, it was a necessity.

So, Orange is the New Black was more than just a television show. It was groundbreaking on numerous fronts. It allowed some of the most talented actors out there a chance to shine. It provided us with incredible arcs (season four remains, for my money, one of the greatest single seasons of television ever made) that made the audience actually think about their own role in the wider world and how they could make a positive impact. And while it wasn’t always successful (seasons five and six remain large missteps in the overall narrative of the series), it took some mighty big swings that were impactful when they landed. I doubt many people understood what prison privatization was before watching the show, or how a transgender inmate was potentially in danger just for who they were, or the catch-22s that prevent detainees from managing to utilize their legal rights while desperately attempting to apply for asylum. You just don’t get that kind of storytelling in an episode of Criminal Minds.

But one of the most impressive aspects of the series, from a critical stand point, was that it was able to rebound from two decidedly not good seasons of television to deliver a final arc that managed to be both emotionally and narratively satisfying (and that is no small feat). As I mentioned above, a great deal of the success of season seven is owed to the show’s focus on ICE and the plight of undocumented immigrants and asylum seekers. The storyline was unflinching in its indictment of the completely broken asylum process (the child court scene was particularly heinous and hard to watch – and also accurate, which is the real horror of it all), made all the more real by using two of the show’s most interesting characters to tell its story.* Over the years we’ve grown to understand and love Maritza and Blanca, so watching them suffer (especially after having a Maritza-free season six) was a brilliant way to drive home some of the realities of the immigration crisis for those who might not have first-hand experience with it. These are characters we know (further cemented with the additions of Marie-Lou Nahhas’s Shani as Nicky’s love interest, Karina Arroyave’s Karla to continue humanizing Blanca, and Melinna Bobadilla’s K’iche’ speaking detainee Santos, who gave Fig the burst of humanity we all knew was within her), that we love, and who we want to see succeed and thrive. We know these are good people who aren’t dangers to any of us. Watching people you care about suffer makes the abstract hit home in a way reading an article in the New York Times might not. Watching Maritza fade to nothing in the plane (which was effectively echoed in the finale with Pennsatucky’s own disappearing act following her death) was gutting. It’s also the reality for thousands of individuals.

*Looking back at season one, who would have predicted that Diane Guerrero would become the emotional powerhouse actor she has? Maritza may have started out as one of the show’s reliable elements of comic relief, but Guerrero’s skill and the exceptional writing turned Maritza into a multi-faceted character that we all grew to love. (I also highly recommend checking out Guerrero’s own personal story regarding her experience losing her entire immediate family to deportation. It’s harrowing.) Also making an amazing jump from season one to the finale? Laura Gomez’s Blanca. Remember how she used to bark and Piper thought she was worshiping the devil? What a difference a great storyline and equally strong actress makes. Blanca was one of the emotional touchstones of the season and Gomez was sensational in capturing the ups and downs of her terrifying experience.

While the ICE arc was as perfect as it can get, the action back in Litchfield was a bit mixed bag in terms of quality. On the positive, the Pennsatucky arc was, once again, stellar. As with so many of the performances throughout this series, if you had told me that Taryn Manning, co-star of the Britney Spears film Crossroads, had the dramatic chops to build a character whose death would leave me in tears by the end of the series, I would have laughed in your face. But here we are, and boy, what a performance. And what a character. P-Tuck started the series as the slightly unhinged antagonist of naïve good-girl Piper. She was the villain of season one, whose attack of (and subsequent beat down by) Piper was the cliffhanger of the season. To take a character that was universally reviled for her toxic beliefs and violent temper and turn her into someone the audience wants to see succeed is the sign of excellent writing combined with a great actor. It didn’t hurt that the writers also opted to pair her with two of the show’s biggest fan favorites over the years (Lea DeLaria’s Big Boo, who we got one last – very on-brand – moment with this year, and Uzo Aduba’s Suzanne, another rehabbed character we learned to love), but so much of what made Tucky someone you wanted to see win came from Manning’s performance.

Manning never hid the fact that this woman was just as much a product of the hell she came from as anyone else on the show – she just had the ability to manipulate those around her and the right racial background to get away with it for far longer than most of the other inmates. Pennsatucky was broken and lost, which caused her to cling to anything and anyone that could promise she’d feel better. And, in true Orange is the New Black fashion, as soon as she thought she reached the pinnacle of success for the first time in her life, where she felt she was worthy of love and respect, that she was actually smart, her hopes were dashed for one final time and she gave into the demons that had never really left her (the series has tackled addiction in a raw manner, and Tucky’s OD was the final reminder that it’s a disease that is always lurking and waiting for the right impetus to strike those afflicted). The kicker that she had actually passed her GED test made her death hit even harder, since we all knew she could do it – even if she couldn’t believe in herself. What a seven-year arc and what an incredible performance.

Also just as effective was Taystee’s final journey from despair to hope (with an assist from just about every major character in her life along the way). I’ll admit to seeing the Pennsatucky OD twist coming, and knowing that Taystee was likely going to make it to the end alive and with a better handle on how to turn her bleak future into something worth living for, but that didn’t make the revelation any less powerful. If one had to choose the soul of Orange is the New Black, I suspect the overwhelming choice would be Taystee (as for the heart, I think it would have been Poussey until her death, followed by Suzanne in later seasons). Danielle Brooks took a character who appeared rather unremarkable, albeit shockingly upbeat, and turned her into the most layered character on the show. The only reason season five worked at all was thanks to Brooks’ searing performance, and Taystee’s dark and twisted journey in season seven was just as indebted to Brooks’ performance. A number of actors on Orange have been given heavy loads to carry throughout the course of the series, but Brooks was the only cast member to be called upon every year to tackle the hard stuff, and each year she delivered the goods. Out of the myriad of excellent acting finds among this massive cast, Brooks might just be the top of the heap. Her versatility is incredible (she can handle comedy, drama, tragedy, and sing her face off), and, perhaps most importantly, Brooks has the ability to connect with an audience through the screen in a way very few actors can. If she’s crying, chances are you also want to weep (I certainly was a mess when we got the Poussey flashback phone call – the chemistry between Brooks and Samira Wiley was another of the show’s greatest gifts). Brooks obviously didn’t create Taystee alone, and credit must also go to Kohan and the writing staff for letting us travel alongside Taystee on her journey into adulthood and peace, but I, for one, cannot wait to see what Brooks does next.

As for the rest of the Litchfield arcs, well, they were generally fine, if not spectacular, with most having just enough runway to get the story across without taking the time to dive deep enough to make the stories resonate. Red’s struggle with early-onset dementia was heartbreaking to watch, but the writers took too long to officially reveal the diagnosis. It took ten episodes to get to a point where the show could fully confront Red’s diagnosis, leaving a mere three episodes to deal with the fallout – which the writers really didn’t do, glossing over things and sending Red to Florida. Kate Mulgrew and Natasha Lyonne gave great performances (and Lyonne was especially strong in her character’s arc with Shani and Lorna), but the story didn’t hit as hard as it could have had the reveal occurred sooner, thereby giving us more time to watch Red’s decline and see Nicky wrestle with how she would need to move forward without her mentor in her life.

Similarly, Black Cindy’s story was wrenching, but was also given short shrift in the grand scheme of things. While we got to spend loads of time watching Piper adjust to life outside of Litchfield (more on that in a moment), Cindy’s situation was far more interesting than anything Piper could have gotten embroiled in. I wanted to see how she navigated living on the street and trying to make ends meet without a support system, yet we only got glimpses of that aspect of prisoner reorientation into the real world this season. Adrienne C. Moore has been one of the best surprises of Orange, and I wanted one more chance to see her shine. And then there was Daya’s drug kingpin status and her drug war with Aleida. It was great to see the show finally give Daya some agency of her own (and let Dascha Polanco sink her teeth into a story that didn’t involve her spending episode after episode wallowing in tears), but the tone of the arc felt off. It was alternately played for the serious dramatic stakes inherent in such an enterprise as well as for laughs. A badass Daya was awesome, but I would have liked to see a bit more about where her life was headed following that fight with her mother.

And then there was Piper. Oh Piper. While she was, as Kohan has termed her over the years, the Trojan Horse to get us interested in the series, the character outlived her audience surrogate role several seasons ago. Yet, here we are, in the final season, with the series devoting hours of precious time telling us something we’ve known for a while: Piper and Alex’s relationship is now, and has always been, toxic as hell. Pairing them up with new potential love interests who mirrored the same dynamic only served to prove the point the show has been tacitly ignoring for years. Listen, I am all for more lesbian relationships on television, but I can’t get behind the hot mess that is Piper and Alex (which is not a slight on either Taylor Schilling or Laura Prepon, both of whom gave strong performances over the seasons, and turned characters that could have veered into caricatures into interesting characters to follow). That several characters highlighted the toxicity of their relationship and then the series ended with them still presumably together was quite the choice.

I’ve never quite known if the writers were pushing the relationship as a love story or as a cautionary tale, but this positioning has me leaning toward the latter (which, frankly, is a solid writing and character choice – both of these characters thrive off of the drama of this relationship, so why wouldn’t they continue mainlining that drug until it finally consumes them?). My criticism of this particular arc comes from the massive amount of time given to it in season seven. We learned nothing fundamentally new about either character throughout the hours we spent with them this season, and there were several more interesting arcs that could have benefited from that additional time (Red, Lorna’s psychotic break, Black Cindy, Daya’s drug cartel). It’s hard to serve a cast of characters of this size (and that’s even with the show trimming some of the excess season six fat by getting rid of two of its biggest miscalculations early in season seven with the murder of Daddy and the transfer of Badison), but I don’t think I’ll ever understand the continued belief that Piper’s story should continue to be paramount when surrounded by so many more interesting characters.

So, in the grand scheme of things, where will Orange is the New Black go down in the annals of television history? It will always be remembered for being one of the forerunners of streaming television, as well as one of the most diverse shows ever to air. It was a series unafraid to tackle complex and important real-life issues with an unflinching focus, while also consistently being a touch too enamored with its original leading lady even to the bitter end. The series introduced (and, in several cases, re-introduced) us to some of the best actresses working in the industry today. It created complex and interesting characters – heroes, villains, those who fluctuated between the two extremes and those who lived somewhere in-between – while never forgetting that these characters were representative of real people with real issues who are stuck in real dire straits. It inspired advocacy and set the bar high for what one series can accomplish over the course of seven years (if you are so inclined, check out the Poussey Washington Foundation, which will provide funds to several worthy non-profits). It gave a face and a voice to subsets of the population that often doesn’t get one, be it the LGBTQA+ community, undocumented immigrants, people of color, or the poor. It exposed elements of our criminal justice system that are down-right criminal in and of themselves. It was more than just a TV dramedy – at its best it was revolutionary. And even if it wasn’t the perfect television series, it stuck the landing with authority.