Honestly, I wasn’t sure we needed more of The Handmaid’s Tale.
When Season 1 premiered during the early months of the first Donald Trump presidency, it struck a nerve, reflecting real-life concerns over the decline of women’s rights and the rise of authoritarianism. Those concerns are more relevant than ever during Trump’s second presidency, as the administration continues to systematically attack women and queer people in ways that recall the Christo-fascist nightmare of Gilead.
Yet between these presidencies, and between The Handmaid’s Tale‘s start and finish, the series lost its way. After Season 1, it moved beyond Margaret Atwood’s novel, and in its efforts to outdo our own growing dystopia, it turned into a grim, self-indulgent spectacle.
Much of that grimness remains on display in The Testaments, a follow-up series based on Atwood’s 2019 novel of the same name. However, the show also finds something new — and perhaps even hopeful — to say, and that’s all thanks to its focus on the younger generations growing up in Gilead.
The Testaments focuses on the youth of Gilead.
The ensemble of “The Testaments.”
Credit: Disney / Russ Martin
The Testaments introduces viewers to a new tier of Gilead’s rigid hierarchy: the Plums. Named after the distinct shade of purple they wear, Plums are the young daughters of high-ranking Commanders. Unlike the leads of The Handmaid’s Tale, they didn’t have independent lives before Gilead. They don’t know what they’ve lost, only the world they’re being raised in.
The Plums are being trained for marriage at a school run by The Handmaid’s Tale‘s Aunt Lydia (Ann Dowd), whose role in the series has been substantially cut down compared to her role in Atwood’s novel. In fact, quite a lot has changed between the novel and the show, which builds out the sickening pageantry of the marriage process between Commanders and their child brides. From high-stakes tea parties to a ball that puts a disturbing twist on prom, The Testaments ushers its young ensemble through a fraught coming-of-age story.
Our gateway into this world is Agnes MacKenzie (Chase Infiniti), the adopted daughter of a powerful Commander. Born before the coup that established Gilead but too young to remember much of it, she has been raised in a stew of religious, patriarchal propaganda that vilifies women as temptresses. Agnes recalls how, after smiling at a boy once, she was forced to stand with her mouth taped, holding a sign reading “slut.” On a field trip, Aunt Lydia’s underling Aunt Vidala (Mabel Li) shows her students a group of men who have been hanged for rape. The lesson? That these men did something wrong, but so did their victim, who “liked attention.”
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These horrifying “lessons” are meant to grind the girls down into perfect cogs in Gilead’s machine. But they’re still teenage girls, and in The Testaments‘ most refreshing moments, we see them acting as such. In one telling scene, the Plums recite their pre-lunch prayers, emotionlessly, as one. Once the Aunts grant them permission to “socialize,” the spell of their robotic routine breaks and they launch into excited discussion. Elsewhere, they play outside, fret over their outfits, and even harbor secret crushes that they know Gilead would consider sinful. Even Gilead isn’t immune from mean girl behavior, as one of Agnes’ friends Shunammite (Rowan Blanchard) regularly throws shade at other students. Her disdainful delivery of “weirdos” is a welcome break from the girls’ go-to “proper” dialogue about the Lord’s blessings and the fine weather. (Although it does make you wonder how such slang has carried down through Gilead’s years of repression.)
Between the messed-up marriage market and the disquieting school environment, The Testaments proves just as chilling as The Handmaid’s Tale, but far more reserved in its depiction of atrocities. There is the occasional scene of harsh punishment, but no graphic depictions of sexual violence. The restraint is a welcome departure from the original series, and it’s also one of The Testaments‘ greatest strengths: proof that seeing a sinister ideology take root can be more effective than a violent scene played for shock value.
The Testaments’ young ensemble is remarkable.
The ensemble of “The Testaments.”
Credit: Disney / Russ Martin
Another one of The Testaments‘ greatest strengths is its cast, led by One Battle After Another breakout Infiniti. Her Agnes is a bundle of repression, made to mask her greatest fears and desires below a placid exterior. As the series continues, she strains against this forced pleasantness again and again, committing small acts of rebellion that bring catharsis and further trouble. It’s remarkable to watch Infiniti chart that growth, especially as Agnes’ jaded voiceover suggests further rebellion down the line.
Co-leading the series is Lucy Halliday as Daisy, a Pearl Girl. These are young women from outside of Gilead who have joined the country and converted to its ways. Daisy is originally from Toronto, and, as the trailer shows, she may still have connections to Canada that prove she isn’t the perfect pearl Gilead wants her to be. She’s a firecracker whose rebelliousness must be dimmed if she’s to survive, and Halliday plays that contrast with just the right amount of anxiety, and even a touch of dark comedy.
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The Testaments‘ other Plums are standouts as well. Blanchard’s sassy Shunammite brings a welcome dose of comic relief to the series, yet as the season goes on, her insecurities result in some painfully vulnerable moments. Elsewhere, Mattea Conforti will break hearts as Becka. She’s recently gotten her period and begun the matchmaking process, but she’s less elated and more terrified of being caged. Who can blame her? While The Testaments avoids a lot of the claustrophobic close-ups that defined The Handmaid’s Tale, it still evokes a sense of imprisonment. The series frequently returns to Agnes’ large dollhouse, a replica of her own considerable mansion. Like her dolls, she and the other Plums are considered playthings, made to act however Gilead wishes. The effect is stifling.
At times, The Testaments‘ mix of The Handmaid’s Tale‘s bleakness and coming-of-age tale doesn’t quite work, such as the inclusion of a love triangle that falls into melodrama territory. However, the series finds new power in its young adult perspective, centering on people who have never known anything but authoritarianism, but who are slowly gaining the resolve to do something about it. Perhaps that messaging, combined with some of The Testaments‘ use of YA tropes, will speak to audiences of Agnes and Daisy’s age in a way that the bleakness of The Handmaid’s Tale might not be able to.
