You won’t know where this is going at first. But by the end of the first episode, you’ll say “wow,” and look forward to watching the other five.

Yes, there are only six episodes. A couple forty five minutes, but the rest an hour or so.

So it’s not a huge commitment. But if I were honest, I’d tell you to watch it all in one sitting. Because when a night or more goes by you have trouble keeping track of some of the plot lines. A week by week drip would be an utter disaster. “Black Butterflies” is really one long movie. And it’s French. And it plays that way.

“Black Butterflies” would not have the same impact if it were American. You see in America the stars dominate the story, cinematography is key, and the end result is something fake. You don’t get wholly engrossed, you don’t wholly believe it. And even though a couple of plot twists in the fourth episode might make you wince, “Black Butterflies” feels strangely real.

So if you’re a fan of French film…

I’m not talking “Mr. Hulot” here. I’m talking about something grittier, more cerebral. That reflects the human condition, and makes you think.

Adrien is a writer. Past his peak. Although married, he doesn’t really fit in. Then again, a writer does not have regular hours, unlike Adrien’s scientist wife Nora.

I don’t want to put all the pieces together, but let’s just say Albert, the old man, is very believable. Someone who has lived his life, and is now just biding time until it is over. He looks experienced, he’s lumpy, got lines in his face, but he’s still sharp.

As for Catherine… She was a babe once, but she’s not desperately holding on to her youth like so many Americans, she’s not trying to compete with the twenty-year-olds. She’s not caking on makeup, but she’s also not let herself go. This is a French archetype, and you’re drawn to it.

So when the series gets going, they flash back to the past. And the strange thing is you lived through it. At least me. And you reflect back on what you were doing then, and compare (and contrast!) yourself to the characters.

And there are multiple characters and multiple plot lines and you know they’ll converge, but you’re not exactly sure how. Which keeps you watching.

Not that “Black Butterflies” is a hard watch. It’s all there, what happens is easily digested, but what does happen is constantly unanticipated. I won’t say it’s a thrill ride, because unlike an American production it’s not screamingly fast-paced. Not that it’s slow, it moves at the pace of life. There’s an intellectual element. Life is being left alone with your thoughts. It’s the essence, it’s what we do most. But that’s not what we tend to see in American art. Unless it has that “look-at-me!” quality, begging for attention. Most of us don’t get attention, we’re flying solo, as many friends or relations we might possess. We want to feel integrated, but it’s a constant challenge, and the isolation can kill you. Never mind that you can be alone together.

“Black Butterflies” is not a comedy. I hear that from people all the time, they want something light, to take them away from the detritus of everyday life.

Now I’m not inherently against light, but I will say it’s hard to do right. I will also say I prefer gritty, edgy, that’s what I want from my entertainment. I don’t want to be taken away, I want to see myself, question my behavior, go inside. I want insight into the human condition, I don’t want to feel so alone.

Not that I could connect with the characters. That’s another cliché that drives me wild, when people say there was no one they could root for, no one they could identify with, that they dislike all the characters. Well, that’s how life is, why should art be any different!

Life is about making choices. And you’re constantly searching for information and also constantly finding out you don’t know much, or you’re surprised by something key. You want to grab hold, you want to eliminate the risk, plan it all out, but no life is like this, and the more you try to attempt this the more you squeeze the life out of life. What I mean is placidity yields little. It’s when you’re a pinball, when you’re the main character in an evolving movie, that life gets interesting.

I don’t want to overhype “Black Butterflies.” It’s not “The Bureau,” or “Happy Valley,” or even “Broadchurch.” But it’s well worth your time.

If you’re watching French shows I’d start with “A French Village.” Forget “Call My Agent,” that’s light fodder akin to “Mr. Hulot.” The French can do that, but it’s earthy and human they specialize in. And, of course, watch the police show “Spiral.”

But as French as “Spiral” is it’s akin to an American series, “Black Butterflies” is not. It’s got the essence of the country in the pacing, the plot twists, the characterizations, it’s the other, and therefore much more the real thing, as in the characters are real people, whose choices…you can evaluate them as opposed to laughing and discarding them, wondering what you’d do in the situations.

Will you be satisfied when it starts to all play out?

Well, maybe not as much as you were in the first half of the series.

Just one warning, really a tip, stay to the very end of the last episode, don’t turn the show off during the credits, which is de rigueur in streaming, hang in there.

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Subject: Trust me on this

We have the exact same taste in shows. Here’s one for you:

Black Butterflies.  Netflix.

Judie Gregg Rosenman