The Handmaid's Tale: 6x08 Exodus.
Who were we under these clothes? Who could we be? Who had they prevented us from being?
Exodus is a thrilling episode. It is in essence a heist, precariously perched between success and failure, hinging on the women who have become a symbol of Gilead’s evil and wrongness. Gilead’s great success is its fertility programme, which rests on the rape and exploitation of the Handmaids. They are in every powerful household, robbed of their name and individuality, reduced to their function of carrying children for Commanders and their Wives. June has decided that these women in their uniform of red will be her army – a perfect army because of their access to power, granted because nobody expects them to organise and fight back. In Serena’s great wedding ceremony, they sit quietly in the back. At the reception, they side on the sidelines. In the lives of the Commanders, they exist quietly, aware of the brutality they would face if they resisted, embedded in the grand mansions. All it takes is some knives, handed off one by one in the pews of the church, and the sedatives that Rita has baked into Serena’s grandiose wedding cake. It’s such an elegant beginning to the revolution, making use of Gilead’s arrogance and its constant misjudging and underestimation of the women it has subjugated.
Apart from June’s voiceover, pondering the life before Gilead, when capitalism was the engine that drove the fashion industry, the two-sided sword of personal choice in what to wear but also frivolity in spending hours at work to earn the money to buy new clothes, the majority of the plot unfolds quietly, because the Handmaids are meant to be seen, not heard. June and Moira craft their own robes, hiding the knives they will hand out, and Aunt Phoebe guides them to their place at the back of the church. The ceremony is what you would expect in a totalitarian state in which the Commanders are heads of church and state at the same time: instead of a priest, Nick leads it, marrying Serena Joy to Commander Waterford. It’s a reminder of his stellar rise through the Gileadean hierarchy: once a driver living over the Waterford’s garage, he is now vested with the full power to marry his former employer to one of the most powerful men in Gilead, who is also his father-in-law.
Afterwards, there is a moment of panic when Serena takes time out of her own wedding to address the Handmaids. June and Moira slip to the back, attempting to hide their faces in their white wings, but there is still just enough space visible to capture June’s eyerolls at her little speech about how Gilead is changing and how Serena could have been kinder to her own Handmaid, and how they “both said unforgivable things to one another, and now I can count her as a good friend”. It’s spin, and branding, but it is also, unfortunately for Serena, genuine: she truly thinks that this is the truth of her and June’s relationship, and she still believes that her plans for a kinder and gentler Gilead will come to fruition now that she has shored them up with her marriage to a man who can deliver them. There is such a clear engine for the plot in this episode: will the uprising succeed or not – but there is a quieter current that runs through it that leads inevitably to the moment when Serena realises that all of her meticulous plans have come to nothing because she has once again trusted the wrong person, and it’s a disillusionment that happens very, very quickly.
At the reception, the rest of the knives are handed out to the remaining Handmaids. The cake – dosed with enough sedatives to put everyone to sleep in one to two hours – is cut and handed out, and, in the case of the Handmaids, hidden under their chairs. At the last moment, it looks like the plot will fail because Aunt Lydia, returned from Washington D.C. too soon, returns just in time to catch a glimpse of June and become suspicious enough to put all the pieces together. She finds the left behind cakes. She forces her way into the sleeping chambers of the Handmaids in the Red Centre and finds one of her girls fully clothed under the blankets, trembling at her discovery.
But first, before all the things that June and Moira have set in motion begin to unfold, Serena is carried over the threshold of her new house in Boston by her new husband. They’ve had their meticulously planned ceremony; they’ve shared a romantic dance. Her life back in power is just beginning, and she has plans to atone that require now personal sacrifices. But when she looks around, she sees a Handmaid kneeling there, ready to begin her service (I wonder if she, too, has been given a knife, or if she didn’t make it to the wedding). Ofgabriel is there to provide the many children that her new husband has been dreaming of, just in case Serena’s own fertility fails. As much as Serena’s rocky road to change has been frustrating and half-realised, I think that this is a moment of some true redemption: she does not back down. She is furious (at herself, perhaps most of all: “I was so stupid to do this again”), and betrayed. She insists to Gabriel that Handmaids are people, not vessels, and attempts to leave (“You think God wants this abomination of a marriage?”), but is stopped by a Guardian. Gabriel reveals who he truly is, underneath this thin veneer of civility: a man who has indulged her but will now have his due, who will never take Serena seriously enough to sacrifice anything that is important to him. It looks like he might imprison her in another marriage, the way that Fred did at the end when he revealed his true face, but then she throws the truth at his face: as a Commander, he cannot be a good man and good husband. She leaves through the door with Noah, but where will she go, and what will the world even look like in a few hours when the knives come out and the bombs go off?
The Handmaids walk down the snowy Boston streets, in an episode that does beautiful work with their uniform movement, capturing them in overhead shots. Individual Handmaids pull off from the column one by one to go home to their Commanders, knives at the ready. June goes to Commander Bell’s house where he is dozing off next to the phone, sedated by the cake and by whiskey. He puts up no fight – this isn’t a man who has ever had to fight. With beautiful symmetry, June stabs him through the eye and then frees Janine, who has lost an eye. When they turn up together at the Red Centre, Aunt Lydia is holding everyone hostage, commanding the one remaining Guardian against this massive betrayal she has uncovered. She has ranted scripture at them, and Moira, who Lydia does not remember, has stood up to her, but what changes the equation is the appearance of Janine. It’s interesting that Lydia has such a limited ability to think in structural terms about what Gilead is doing, that she only started to truly question things when she saw the effects on one specific girl she cared about more than the others.
June: You did this. You trained us to be like this. After you beat us and after you mutilated us, and after you tortured us, after you took our children away. You did this. But I think you’ve seen things you can’t unsee. And I think that you’ve learnt things that you can’t unlearn. And I know that in your heart of hearts you know that rape is rape. And you know it wasn’t our fault and we don’t deserve this. And we’re not fallen women, we’re rising up because in each and every one of us is this immaculate soul that was given to us by God, that is just crying out for dignity and freedom.
[…] Is there a God that would empower a woman like you to stand up for us? To arc toward the light, and to finally declare: enough? Because we, all of us, together, we’ve had enough.
It’s a great speech, once again falling back on June’s personal version of religion that exists separately from what Gilead has twisted religion into, put into precise terms that Lydia is bound to resonate with. Janine is who changes Lydia’s mind, and she lets them all go, and the Guardian – more a boy than a man – lets it happen. They are free. The revolution has begun, but how far will it come in the two episodes that remain, and who will survive to see the end?
Random notes:
The unspoken fact about this episode, which I thought was very good and compelling, is that the tension between the plot succeeding or failing existed almost solely because June was the weak spot. If she hadn’t been there, there would have been barely any risk of discovery – even though the things that gives it away in the end is Lydia’s suspicion (by itself mainly raised because she thought she spotted June) and finding of the cakes under the chairs. June had to be there for story reasons – she is the face of the rebellion – but she is also one of the most recognisable faces in Gilead, who has in the past intersected with several of the guests. There was no reason why she had to be the one there, or why she shouldn’t have simply gone off to kill Bell after the sedative was delivered without ever attending the wedding.
There’s almost a fairy tale quality to this episode, especially with the cake putting the entire kingdom to sleep, but I did giggle a little bit at the very Fight Club vibes in the opening monologue.
Nick, in his sermon at the church, says “mine own child first and forever”, opening the forever question of which child he is talking about. June seems ready to blow the plan at several points, and for a moment I thought she might just use her knife on him instead of freeing Janine. I think Rita’s very well-timed “eye on the prize” speech to get rid of Serena is aimed directly at June and her furious, fuming eyes.
Serena’s hopeful little conversation with Commander Lawrence is almost tragic: she tells him how committed she is to their shared plan, not knowing that he has moved on, that he knows she cannot deliver on them, that he himself delivered this wedding as the perfect opportunity to rid himself of his political rivals. Do we think that he ate the cake at least? He definitely encourages his beloved new wife to have heaps of it, perhaps looking forward to a moment of quiet before preparing for the fall-out.