Editor’s note and Content Warning: The following contains spoilers for the first half of the first episode of the sixth season of “The Handmaid’s Tale.” It also alludes to plot points in later episodes and contains mentions of rape.
This week, Hulu released the first three episodes of the final season of “The Handmaid’s Tale.” A note of warning while watching: As in previous seasons, you may need to click “Info” on your remote control to confirm that you aren’t watching the news.
Loosely based on Margaret Atwood’s 1985 dystopian novel, “The Handmaid’s Tale” chronicles life in Gilead, a patriarchal, theocratic society ostensibly created to reverse declining birthrates and climate change. The story centers on June, an American kidnapped by Gilead and forced to serve as a handmaid for Commander Joseph Lawrence and his wife, Serena Joy.
Handmaids in Gilead are placed with couples who cannot have children. They are ceremonially raped and, if a child is conceived, forced to carry it to term before handing it over to their commander’s wife to raise.
At the end of Season Five, June and Serena find themselves on a train to Alaska, one of the two final states not conquered by Gilead. The first episode of the new season picks up the story there. The two women in a familiar conundrum are connected by their shared humanity and motherhood, but also by the severe trauma Serena inflicted on June and all the handmaids of Gilead.
In earlier seasons, viewers learned Serena wasn’t just a passive accomplice to the horrors of Gilead, like so many of the other commanders’ wives. Instead, much of the ideological foundation for the society was built on her conservative religious activism for biblical gender roles, as she understood them.
Although the series contains numerous compelling storylines, none bring more emotional depth and complexity to the screen than June and Serena’s relationship. Their ride on the train was a microcosm of what audiences have witnessed since the show premiered in 2017.
Their conversation centered on the journey that had brought them this far. June, as the victim of years of abuse at the hands of Serena and Gilead, took a calm but firm tone, naming all that had been taken from her. Serena wanted them to focus instead on how God had preserved their lives.
For the past two seasons, “Handmaid’s Tale” writers have depicted a Serena who appears to be reckoning with the world she helped create and moving toward some sort of repentance. But just as the light bulb is about to turn on, something pulls her back. The brilliance of the writers is reflected in the audience not knowing what that “something” is.
It could be ambition or delusion. However, viewers are led to consider another option–true belief. As the train ride progresses, this becomes a compelling possibility.
Passengers, many of whom were women who had escaped from Gilead, slowly began to recognize who Serena was. As they advanced toward her, June, knowing all too well the desire for retributive violence against Serena, sought to de-escalate the situation.
Moments before, Serena had begun to show glimmers of regret for her actions. Now, she defaulted back to the family-values crusader she had been, essentially telling her aggressors that Gilead was the best option for a fallen society.
The literary-cinematic device of Gilead has proven to be a bit too on-the-nose of a metaphor for the white Christian nationalism that is destroying our country. As it is here in the real world, the diagnosis of what is wrong with Gilead is clear, but the treatments offered are few.
As June and Serena deal with the mob on the train, Commander Lawrence is attempting one solution–reform. His “New Bethlehem” seeks to entice refugees back to a more modernized version of Gilead, but it is unclear what that modernization will entail and if it will include less stringent moral codes–or even less rape.
Lawrence, the economic architect of Gilead, was never a true believer in its religious underpinnings. But he knew he needed the religious fervor of extremists to fuel his plan. Sound familiar?
The dilemma “The Handmaid’s Tale” presents isn’t how to influence the Commander Lawrences of the world to halt their destruction. It is, instead, how to convince the Serena Waterfords of the world that the abuses of Gilead aren’t “unfortunate mistakes” of male supremacy sold as “traditional gender roles.” Instead, they are the intended consequences of that system.
June attempted one strategy on the train. She reminded Serena, who was holding her own daughter, that June’s daughter Hannah was still in Gilead and approaching the age of becoming a handmaid. Sadly, the incident with the passengers interrupted any inner work Serena would have done with that information.
Later, Serena finds herself among other religious devotees who have created a society free from the terrors of Gilead but with its promised utopian vision. It is an agrarian community where work and rest find perfect balance. Meals are shared and prayers are lifted up to God. Of course, there are no men there, and that may be the point.
The stage has been set, and we are left wondering if Gilead will prevail, return in an altered state, or be dismantled.
I’ve never read Atwood’s novel, but I have read to the end of the Bible, so I know where I’ll be placing my bets.
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