Article: Tailspin: The Decline of Hulu's The Handmaid's Tale Series

If there is a pantheon of dystopian novels, then Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-four, Zamyatin's We, and Huxley's Brave New World are chiseled there. As is Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale—the fourth face on the Mt. Rushmore of doomed futures. The book features a Christian version of ISIS taking over a massive chunk of the United States in the chaos of an infertility crisis, a takeover that subjugates women into servant roles and forced reproduction. Frighteningly realistic seeing the far right emerge from the West's woodwork the past decade, it makes for engaging story and thought-provoking reading material.

1990 saw the release of a feature film based on The Handmaid's Tale. A solid production, it generally does the book justice. But like a lot of movies which adapt books to the screen, it is clear that two hours was not enough to contain June Osborne's powerful tale. Fast forward the clock to our Netflix world and the possibility of creating a ten-episode series to tell the story became real, something Hulu did starting in 2017. Season 1 a faithful and excellent adaptation, it captures Atwood's novel in ten episodes almost as one imagines it while reading. A popular success as well, Hulu quickly signed on for more seasons.

As of the writing of this post, The Handmaid's Tale has reached five seasons and counting. But the series' integrity and focus have... evolved. Let's take a closer look at that tailspin. Mild spoilers ahead.

For a baseline, it's good to start with what made The Handmaid's Tale series successful—what it was like out of the gate in Season 1. Excellent writing that eschewed a good and evil through-line despite being set in a good and evil setting. Great acting. The main characters, with the exception of perhaps Nick, delivered powerful performances in keeping with the emotions one would expect, up to and including the extreme scenes. Good cadence. Content was dispersed (i.e. the various storylines were interwoven) in such a manner to constantly keep things engaging. And lastly, there was an adequate production budget to cover the actors, shooting, effects, etc. the show needed—nothing extravagant, but complete and up to snuff with what the book presented. One could also make an argument that the story's focus on universal human concerns, particularly the oppression of women, helped boost the show's success.

Season 2 had much of the same formula in place. There was minimal drop in quality and viewers still had reason to be engaged. The only potential hole was the viewer's opinion of story direction. One could see that writers were trying to keep things high stakes, which meant taking chances. In Season 3, high stakes once again made themselves present, pushing story points harder than ever. But things were starting to fray. It was clear writers were now aiming for at least a majority female agenda, and from some points, a feminist agenda. Moreover, credibility was slipping. The series' train was wobbling on the tracks. With Season 4, imminent derailment was visible.

Season 4 saw a breakdown of a few key points in the formula for success. The quality of writing became erratic. Story events, rather than moving through organic inflection points, started aligning more with an agenda, an agenda that was more aligned to June (than balancing June with the setting, as with Seasons 1 and 2). But perhaps more disappointing was the show's newfound desire to extract every possible drop of emotion and drama. Scene length shot up. Viewers became well acquainted with the pores in Elizabeth Moss' face. (She's brilliant.) As a result, cadence became awkward, content unequally dispersed. For example, one whole episode was set in a hospital room. I did not count its lines of dialogue, but they were minimal. The rest of the viewer's time in the room is mood music and shots of Moss emoting at life. This left us at the doorstep of Season 5, i.e. the train wreck. Let's look at the smoke, rubble, and twisted metal.

And we'll start with storytelling. For those in the know (wink-wink), there is one narrative trick that is perhaps the most repeated in the history of storytelling: capture and escape. Most action and adventure films feature at least one such sequence. Used sparingly and effectively, these sequences generate tension and excitement for viewer's enjoyment. Used too often and without real consequences they stretch credibility and the viewer's trust in the writers. The Handmaid's Tale has featured capture and escape sequences in almost every season to date. This is forcing viewers like me to lose trust in the writers (can't you generate tension using some other device?) and doubt the veracity of the setting, i.e. does Gilead have the teeth necessary to be a true authoritarian nightmare if they can't stop one woman who they have in prison—on multiple occasions? The repetition is becoming annoying; the scenes have lost all threat. Oh, they caught June, again. Oh, they're threatening her, again. <cue dramatic torture scenes forcing June to choose between herself and friends or family>. Oh, June has gotten out, again. Doesn't matter what they do, June will get out. We've been there, done that, many times, every season. Boring. (In a strong parallel, Aunt Lidia likewise repeats and repeats and repeats her bad guy routine. It too is getting old—dead horse old...)

From storytelling, we move to plot. A lot of shows have plot holes, and The Handmaid's Tale is no exception. I will not go into detail here. But I will say that they are coming faster and with more frequency. Where Atwood's novel (aka Season 1) is a tightly wound tale in a finite setting whose pieces fit nicely together, each subsequent season frays this rope. Where characters once acted and behaved according to the personalities Atwood established, they begin to deviate in ways that seem more plot-serving than character-oriented. The show's writers need to get Person A from point 1 to 2, so they introduce situation X, a situation that goes beyond the limits of the world already established (i.e. plot hole). Or they introduce decision point Y, which keeps the wheels of plot moving but don't seem true to character or setting. I read a shit-ton of books. I am a forgiving person in plot-hole land. But the series has become too much. It has lost touch with the ground it grew from and now floats in the sky above, the ground only in sight. Nothing is interesting when everything is possible...

To be fair, many long-running shows/series struggle with this: How to extend a story without sacrificing the integrity of the characters and setting that have already been established? Atwood didn't have to deal with this writing the novel, and therefore provided a distillate gem of June Osborne's world. After five seasons the show's producers are shooting off in all directions, going against the realism the show/setting had, and serving the lords of melodrama and politics more than story and characters. The goal of ten seasons is starting to look extremely, extremely ambitious.

And to pace. The drop in pace (by stretching scenes) leads to unsettled plot movement. Where Seasons 1 and 2 kept the wheels within wheels spinning steadily and smoothly, later seasons lose and gain momentum more irregularly. Progression has become erratic. Melancholic synth music, the camera slowly focusing in on Junes' face, shadowy backdrops—in many ways, this is the series' new formula. It's becoming wearisome, even predictable. Here comes yet another slow zoom on Moss' emotions attempting to come to terms with some new bit of social drama. Face trembles, cheeks flush red, eyes in open stare.... When used at peak moments or in scenes producers want to emphasize, such a method can be effective at getting viewers inside the heads of the characters and emoting alongside them. In The Handmaid's Tale it happens so often, however, it's lost most of its meaning. The viewer no longer has a properly gauged scale to understand which scenes are the emotional peaks/valleys. It's become the Mama Emo Show in some ways...

And to character. To be clear, I expect June and the others around her to evolve in the show. I don't want them to be static as that would not be realistic in such a settings. Also, in order to properly represent humans, I understand not all character decisions work on personality clockwork. Each of us go against our own norms semi-regularly. I would expect June and the others to do the same as it adds realism. And, I can understand the emotions living in Gilead create a dynamic, unpredictable situation. All that being said, June is no longer the character she was. Producers do their damnedest (cue emotional and domestic scenes) trying to keep her realistic, but the things she is able to accomplish serving plot transcend normal woman. She's now a tv character. She went from 3D to 2D. This is disappointing. I don't want super emo mom. I want what Atwood and the writers gave us in Season 1: a real woman dealing with ultra shitty situations in relatable fashion. No matter how hard I put myself in her shoes now, I no longer relate. The dissonance between June as a human and June as t-shirt Che Guevara is too great.

And lastly, to genre. Where Atwood's novel and Seasons 1 and 2 were literary humanism (society, family, government, freedom, etc.), the series as of Season 5 is now decidedly within a smaller scope, i.e. chick-lit. It's content for a specific audience, rather than broadly human. Doubt that? Let's go through the check (chick?) list.

1. Strong female focus. CHECK

2. Emotions and emotional conflict heavily foregrounded. CHECK

3. Passive male partner who conforms to the woman's needs/desires. Check

4. Focus on scenes discussing relationships. Check—but not a strong check.

5. Child drama. Check-check-check-check-check-check-check-check-check-check-check

6. Love triangle Check

7. The gay best friend. Check and check.

8. Love born out of cheating. Check

9. Kissing in the rain. Check.................

You get the picture, so let's bring this whole rant to a close.

The Handmaid's Tale is a series that started strong but is in tailspin. The first two seasons inspired me to watch more. Season 3 raised questions, and by the end of Season 4 the questions became open skepticism of the show's integrity. Throughout season 5 I was on viewer autopilot, almost entirely disengaged. I have no plans to watch season 6 and beyond. The show has shifted focus from the human condition to chick-lit. It's also erratic, from writing to cadence, melodrama to 2D character presentation. It has likewise become repetitive with several key character and plot devices being used over and over. Where Atwood's novel finds itself on the Mt. Rushmore of dystopian fiction, the series will likely struggle to retain relevancy even ten years from now. Going out on a high note or aiming for three or four seasons total (instead of ten) seem better options in hindsight...