Like you, I’ve spent hundreds of hours of my life watching “quality” TV featuring richly drawn, riveting male heroes—and the pretty, vacuous female “characters” who do nothing but react to them. That’s why the turnabout in BBC America’s Orphan Black, which returns for its second season Saturday night, is so fantastic. The sci-fi–tinged series calculatedly disdains filling out its male characters, and it’s perversely thrilling to watch as a woman. Finally, men are the sexy, empty listeners!
Orphan Black is all about a woman, Sarah, and her many, many clones (all played by Tatiana Maslany), so it’s no surprise that the male characters are secondary to the plot. But the men aren’t simply less important to the story than the women. They are less than, full stop. With one exception, the male characters of Orphan Black are purposefully insubstantial, bordering on feeble. This gender reversal is not an accident on the part of the show’s creators, Graeme Manson and John Fawcett; it’s clearly a conscious decision, and it effectively delivers the show’s most potent message about the nature, quality, and persistence of the enemy.
Tatiana Maslany plays nine-plus women on Orphan Black, and each one has complexities, dimensions, and an arc, starting with the show’s antihero, Sarah Manning, a hustler who begins the series by robbing a dead woman—who turns out to be her clone Beth. As Sarah takes on Beth’s identity and meets her “Clone Club” sisters, she becomes stronger and more heroic. And all the clones are multifaceted: Alison, initially a caricature of the type-A suburban soccer mom (complete with obsessive crafting room), becomes the most tragic clone as she spirals into a pill-fueled yet oddly liberating breakdown. Cosima is a brilliant, stoner lesbian scientist; Helena is a ferile, abused, childlike killer. And the show’s other female characters, like foster mother Mrs. S and femme fatale Delphine, are also nuanced.
Over the course of Orphan Black’s first season on BBC America, the clones discovered some of their enemies: the Dyad Institute, a shadowy corporation aggressively interested in cloning and patents (especially people-patents), and “neolutionists,” club-kid science nerds intent on using the clones’ DNA for body-modification purposes (tails for everybody!). There were religious zealots, possible spies, and corrupt cops. Yet the truest enemy was an often innocuous, frankly dopey group the clones just couldn’t seem to shake: the straight men all around them. And they just kept popping up. Like, you know, clones.
Orphan Black’s straight men are among the stupidest and least riveting fictional creatures to populate the modern television landscape. After years of suffering through completely unrecognizable female characters on TV, it’s hard not to celebrate the show’s almost gleeful denigration of its straight male characters. Orphan Black’s creators are not interested in speaking to the straight guys’ justifications or needs, except to show how superficial they are. The straight men of Orphan Black are stupid, weak, simple, unethical, violent, buffoonish, and easily manipulated. They are purposefully one-dimensional sketches denied the layers and complex motivations given to the female characters.
Complex characters act and initiate, whereas the straight men in Orphan Black, like most women in the history of entertainment, are given the job of being reactive. Orphan Black’s men are simply inert without the women to activate them—they don’t show any agency, display any power of individual thought, or demonstrate any critical thinking skills. (Even Art, Orphan Black’s semi-sympathetic but still obstructive cop, is really trying to think. You can tell by the serious scrunch-y face he makes.) Each male character is given maybe one discerning characteristic to set him apart from the other men: Alison’s husband, Donnie, is a suburban buffoon, Tomas is a religious wacko, Olivier is a perv with a tail.
The straight men on Orphan Black effectively function as roadblocks. There’s no artful conniving or brilliant subterfuge at work—they’re just big lumps whose function is to get in the way of the clones’ progress. They aggravate, bully, and push their weight around in typically macho fashion, but ultimately, they are simply inadequate, and their inadequacy is nakedly obvious. The men’s schemes and vulnerabilities are clear not only to the women, but to the audience, and so the question becomes not if, but when, the women will best them.
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