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S2 E3: Hugs Can Be Deceiving
Orange is the New Black, 2013.
In Orange is the New Black's "Hugs Can Be Deceiving," the audience is flung headfirst into the social terrarium of Litchfield Penitentiary.
Piper, newly freed from solitary confinement, emerges blinking into the fluorescent purgatory of the general population—a gladiatorial arena of suppressed grudges and unwelcome hugs. Her reappearance sends ripples through the inmate ecosystem, as her erstwhile compatriots had, apparently, written her off as permanently benched. What follows is a master class in quiet chaos, skillfully orchestrated by writers Nick Jones and Stephen Falk, who bring to life the prison's shifting allegiances and quietly devastating moments.
Piper's new cellmates—an ensemble that includes the irrepressibly chatty Brook Soso and the enigmatic Vee—serve as a tableau of extremes. Soso, a human megaphone of millennial neuroses, rapidly becomes an irritant so potent that Piper contemplates the heretofore unthinkable: open hostility. Meanwhile, Vee operates on the opposite end of the spectrum, exuding an insidious warmth that suggests motherly affection with just a soupçon of sociopathy. Vee's reconnection with Taystee and her calculated recruitment of Suzanne Warren are equal parts heartfelt and horrifying, underscoring her Machiavellian prowess.
Amid the swirling interpersonal drama, Morello’s subplot offers a quieter, gut-punching counterpoint. Her devastated reaction to Christopher’s impending nuptials—a wedding that is not hers—serves as a stark reminder of the isolation and powerlessness that incarceration exacerbates. The scene is a symphony of heartbreak, performed on the tiniest violin imaginable.
The flashbacks to Suzanne Warren’s troubled youth are as illuminating as they are painful. We see the seeds of Suzanne's erratic behavior and fierce attachment issues, planted in moments of rejection and misunderstanding. The stark juxtaposition of Suzanne's childhood—marked by her yearning for connection and the cruel realities of a world that refuses to meet her halfway—with her present-day interactions at Litchfield is a brilliant stroke of storytelling. Her fragile bond with Vee is layered with poignancy, as it hints at Suzanne’s lifelong quest for a maternal figure who won’t abandon her.
"Hugs Can Be Deceiving" also showcases the series’ ability to render its characters in three dimensions, even the ones who might initially seem like background players. The episode thrives on its ability to flip the narrative kaleidoscope, reframing relationships and histories in ways that surprise and devastate.
On a production note, this episode is notable for its deft direction by industry veteran, Allison Anders, whose eye for small, revealing details lends the episode an intimacy that balances its broader themes. The flashbacks, in particular, are crafted with an almost dreamlike sensitivity, capturing the heartbreak of being a child who feels too much and a world that understands too little.
In the end, "Hugs Can Be Deceiving" is a potent reminder that in Litchfield—and perhaps in life—every hug is a potential chokehold, every smile a possible smirk, and every alliance a ticking time bomb. Whether it's Piper navigating the minefield of cellmate dynamics or Suzanne wrestling with her fractured psyche, the episode leaves us with one undeniable truth: sometimes the most dangerous person in the room is the one offering a hug.