Timing and skill breathe new life into Margaret Atwood’s novel
THE most nightmarish dystopian worlds are both familiar and incongruous, existing on the peripheries of possibility. A prime example is “The Handmaid’s Tale”, written in 1985 and now a ten-part television series which will be released on Hulu from April 26th.
In it an American society is ruled by a theocratic dictatorship. Women are stripped of their jobs—bank accounts and property are handed over to their husbands or male next-of-kin—and forbidden from reading. They are recategorised under the new regime: women who can bear children become “handmaids”, made to conceive the babies of high-ranking military personnel whose wives are barren. Infertile women, dissidents and lesbians are sent to die farming toxic land.
With women’s reproductive rights at the centre of its narrative, the series has been praised for its timeliness. Ms Moss has said that the cast and crew “never wanted to show to be this relevant”. But as the Trump administration continues to cut funding and roll back family-planning services, it is easy to hear echoes of its rhetoric on the screen.
Yet “The Handmaid’s Tale” is searing because so many women have no more control over their own bodies today than they did in 1985. What rights they have earned are subject to the whims and political persuasions of men in power. If Ms Atwood’s tale feels nightmarish it is precisely because it is enduringly, and maddeningly, familiar.