Bruce Miller on Confronting a “Difficult Season Finale” and More as The Handmaid’s Tale Heads into Season Three
Photo: George Kraychyk/Hulu
My bestie of a million years—a brilliant, skeptical scientist not given to sentimentality or easy suspension of disbelief—was having trouble committing to plans over a recent weekend. “I want to see you,” she said, “but there’s a problem. I was up until 3:00 binge-watching Season Two of The Handmaid’s Tale, and… I don’t know how to say this, I am tempted to blow you off, because I’m not done yet.”
Obviously, I more than understand that conundrum, and I hastened to explain that I myself was pretending I didn’t owe my editor an essay and re-watching Season Three of Sherlock, because the first time I saw it I didn’t know who Derren Brown was. (Oops.) “Come over and we’ll watch the rest of it; I want to see how you react to the finale.”
“Why, what happens?”
Heh.
The Handmaid’s Tale has enjoyed an above-average amount of debate and behind-the-scenes theorizing here at Paste, and there are many reasons for that. It has hardcore fans, grudging admirers and a couple of staffers who have struggled with full-blown irritation at the narrative choices while acknowledging the overall quality of the production. The Season Two finale generated a great deal of water-cooler talk, and multiple articles attempting to render a verdict on whether it “worked.” (Consensus: Artistically, some true high points. Narratively, some huge question marks.)
I had the chance to ask creator Bruce Miller about some of those question marks recently, and he was admirably tight-lipped in response to the kooky fan theories I floated about Season Three. (Drat.) I wondered what it was like to take off from the moorings of the book and glide out into a world of speculation as the second season did. I could imagine it being liberating or unnerving or, likely, both.
“I don’t think I did leave behind the source text in Season Two,” Miller said. “The events that we portrayed in Season One were often slightly (or hugely) different than the same incidences in the book, and we made up a lot of new stuff too in Season One. We moved into Season Two tethered to Margaret Atwood’s world and that is what really keeps us on a solid foundation.”
As a literary writer myself, I was surprised by that answer. I was thinking of “leaving behind the source text” pretty literally: The first season ends basically where the novel ends. Everything that happens in Season Two is an extrapolation. But it was illuminating that Miller immediately went to the notion of thematic and artistic-sensibility fidelity—of course, that’s an equally important way of looking at an adaptation, and of course he’s quite correct. The Handmaid’s Tale absolutely do stay in the world Miller and company have created, and it’s certainly moored in Atwood’s original vision while also being toyed with to have a certain resonance in the present. At all of those levels, I think it’s a stellar adaptation. Characters who were stylized two-dimensional beings in the novel explode into living, breathing, conflicted humans in the TV show. In the novel, characters like Serena Joy Waterford (Yvonne Strahovski) and Aunt Lydia (Ann Dowd) are, as seen through Offred’s (Elisabeth Moss) eyes, unlovable, to say the least. On screen, they vibrate with conflicts and desires and complicated backstories. (“No one is a villain in their own story,” as Miller points out.)
With regard to the Season Two finale, I wanted to know how he felt about the (in my view, daunting) task of writing his principal characters out of a seriously tight corner.
“We left off in a very difficult spot—people risked their lives and livelihoods and literally set Gilead on fire to get Offred out. As things stand, not only Offred, but Nick [Max Minghella], Rita [Amanda Brugel], Serena, Commander Lawrence [Bradley Whitford] and several other people are looking at a hangman’s noose for what just happened. How will she re-insert herself; how can she?”
“Unfortunately, being confronted by a difficult season finale as you begin writing a new season is a place that all TV writers find themselves,” Miller continued. “It’s hard—but it is what we are good at.”