Reel Review Mom

There is a specific kind of trepidation that comes with revisiting a world as bleak as Margaret Atwood’s Gilead. While the MaddAddam trilogy remains my absolute favorite of her works—nothing quite touches the haunting complexity of that series—The Handmaid’s Tale has always held a vital spot on my shelf. Recently, I decided to dive back into the Hulu adaptation for a second watch, and I was struck by how much more impactful it is when you aren’t just bracing for the next shock.
The second time around, the show is undeniably better. Freed from the initial “what happens next” anxiety, I found myself focused on the stunning visual language of the series. The cinematography is masterfully done; the stark contrast of the crimson cloaks against the sterile, oppressive world is a masterclass in atmospheric storytelling. It is a beautiful, albeit harrowing, translation of Atwood’s prose.
However, I will soon reach my original “wall.” During my first viewing, I never made it past the fourth season. That was the point where the narrative began to stray significantly from the source material, and the pacing shifted into something entirely different from the book’s internal rhythm.
It will be interesting to see if I can push through this time. When a show moves beyond its literary blueprint, it risks losing the very soul that made it a favorite. Yet, with the perspective of a rewatch, I’m hoping to appreciate the series as its own evolving entity—even if my heart still belongs to the world of Oryx and Crake.