Too much of a good thing?
Second season of a series as well done as The Handmaid’s Tale is cause for concern
Hulu’s Emmy Award-winning adaptation of Margaret Atwood’s book The Handmaid’s Tale has started its second season, available in Canada on Bravo and CraveTV. It’s my favourite show. And yet, I’ve never been more upset by the prospect of watching more episodes of a TV series.
Originally published in 1985, Atwood’s novel is a cautionary tale, speculating on a future in which fascist religious fundamentalists have taken control of the United States. In Atwood’s novel — and the subsequent TV series — the U.S. has been renamed The Republic of Gilead. Years of environmental devastation have created both a strained economy and mass infertility.
Gilead is a terrifying place where women are prohibited from reading and dissidents are sent to forced labour camps in a region known as “The Colonies.” Young women capable of bearing children are kidnapped and pressured into service. Referred to as handmaids, they are forced to conceive and carry children for the wives of Gilead’s elite. They don crimson dresses and bonnets, a uniform used to mark them as property. Offred, the story’s protagonist, is one such handmaid. The part is played with grace and humanity by Mad Men alum Elisabeth Moss, and it’s hard to imagine more perfect casting.
Created by Bruce Miller, the first TV season of The Handmaid’s Tale is a true accomplishment. It features a brilliant lead performance by Moss and its cinematography is stunning in its ability to push viewers into the perspective of the oppressed characters. Yes, the series takes some liberties with the book’s plot. But it manages to remain true to the spirit of Atwood’s story.
I first read The Handmaid’s Tale when I was 16, at the recommendation of my high school geography teacher.
As my teenage self devoured the tome, I began to understand the power of dystopian narratives as a genre that holds a mirror up to society and reflects back the nightmare it could become. It prompted me to question where our society is headed, cautioning me against taking freedom for granted.
To me, one of the most impactful parts of The Handmaid’s Tale is its ambiguous ending. I contemplated Offred’s fate for days after finishing the book: Would Gilead’s resistance, known as Mayday, be strong enough to save her? Or would she become yet another casualty of the regime? It’s a chilling finish that stays with you, making its warning about an anti-feminist dystopian future impossible to shake.
Season 1 ends on the same cliffhanger as the book: Offred is ushered into a waiting car, not knowing whether she’s headed for salvation or her demise. And, just like the book, so much of the impact of the series is tied to this final note. No one wants to judge art before consuming it, but to continue from that unforgettable conclusion, the new season is increasing its degree of difficulty to an exceedingly risky extent. By continuing on, it’s endangering the first season’s — and the book’s — legacy.
Atwood is collaborating on season 2 of The Handmaid’s Tale, which is cause for some optimism. But I can’t help but wonder about the motivation behind furthering this story. Television is a business. And we’ve seen so many products — from T-shirts and tote bags to, yes, sadly, lingerie — inspired by the series. There’s a danger The Handmaid’s Tale could do what countless other once brilliant series do in their second and third seasons — resort to cheap theatrics and incongruous plot twists to continue its popularity.
Ultimately, season 2 of The Handmaid’s Tale is a case of risk outweighing potential reward. Atwood’s classic novel is a defining story for so many women at this time. So, what happens if its TV sequel is subpar? There is a danger that people will attach an adaptation that goes off the rails to the genius of the source material.
Atwood never wrote a sequel to the book on which this series is based. And perhaps that’s because it didn’t need one.