The Film Experience

by Juan Carlos Ojano

It’s probably an odd thing to say that I love The Handmaid’s Tale so much, given how challenging it can be for its audience. I even wonder why I love it sometimes. There is never an episode of the show that can be considered easy. And yet, there is also something deeply cathartic about watching its main character June (Elisabeth Moss) as well as the other characters survive, persevere, and even fight the institutionalized misogyny in the Republic of Gilead.

One thing that I always go back to is the top-notch filmmaking in the show...

Four seasons in, the show still carries so much audio-visual vitality. The episodes remain faithful to the essence of the material and the established semiotics of the show while continually pushing their own cinematic language as the story and the characters continue to evolve. It really makes the filmmaker in me excited whenever I notice a directorial choice that makes the storytelling fresh, especially for a show that has been going for years now.

Despite all challenges in the production - mainly due to the still-ongoing COVID-19 pandemic - what emerged is the show’s most dynamic and unpredictable season yet. With the Emmy ballots out, here is my take on the show’s five submissions for Outstanding Directing for a Drama Series (semi-spoilers ahead):

Colin Watkinson - “Nightshade” (Episode 2)

This Emmy-winning cinematographer returns for his third time directing in the show, now focusing on June’s risky choice of helping women at a nearby Jezebels while her cohorts are on the move to the next safe house. We also see Serena (Yvonne Strahovski) trying to distance herself from Fred, only to be stunned by a revelation that would force her to reteam with him. Watkinson’s is skilled at propelling the story forward by never letting go of tension but by moderating it exquisitely. This episode highlights the struggle to communicate, even the refusal to do so, and how it is reflected in the most personal of conversations. Even in the smallest of moments, Watkinson’s eye for visual storytelling is evident. Scenes like a young boy who wants to go back to Gilead, Emily questioning Moira’s attachment to June, and Serena’s hesitance to discuss domestic violence are captured with a tinge of piercing care.

His mastery at tension building is highlighted in the final scene of the episode. As June and Guardian David (Samer Salem) go back to the Keyes farmhouse, they notice that something is amiss. They walk to the house to observe and inspect, only for him to be shot dead. Everything about this sequence is carefully crafted. The choice to extend the period of quietness leading up to the gunshot heightens that moment of tension even more. It is not even about what might happen but when exactly it will happen. Watkinson uses wide shots in the lead up to make us see what is possibly lurking in the corners of the frame, only for the actual danger to happen right in the middle of the screen. The sight of June reaching for the gun, only for several snipers to point their lasers at her, is even more horrifying. The dynamics in lighting is also significant for this scene. As we see Nick emerge from the darkness, the scene is given more weight. Not only is it a moment of mortal violence but of betrayal. As June is apprehended, the darkness of the scene is suddenly disrupted by the blistering lights pointed at her.

Christina Choe - “Milk” (Episode 4)

After writing and directing her feature film debut Nancy in 2018 and working on series such as The Act and The Twilight Zone, this filmmaker enters the world of The Handmaid’s Tale with an episode that sets up the show’s transition into the war thriller genre. With June and Janine (Madeline Brewer) on the run, they ride a train to Chicago in the hopes of finding allies in the resistance to fight back against Gilead. We also see two subplots in focus: Janine’s life before Gilead as a hardworking single mother and Rita (Amanda Brugel) facing the Waterfords for the first time as a free citizen in Canada. While these storylines are disparate, Choe unifies them by staying close to the characters as they enter uncertain terrain, whether it be in a milk tanker, a crisis pregnancy center, or the high-end prison for the Waterfords. The filmmaking is stunning and yet lean, making the episode even more immediate. (I would have preferred if Choe submitted “Chicago”, but this is an excellent episode nonetheless.)

Interestingly, there is a strange fascination in the scene where Rita eats take-out sushi by herself. As we see in this episode, Gilead’s hold on Rita remains: she continues to bake bread from scratch, the same way she does in Gilead. Even if her kitchen is vastly different from the Waterfords’ house, the same strong flush of sunlight permeates, as if nothing has really changed. She is even usually framed off-center or at the very center, with either position showing her still in disbelief at the freedom she now has. However, her final scene in the same kitchen, with the same lighting, but now eating something she did not have to prepare herself is a huge step in her acclimation to her newfound agency as a refugee in Canada. Choe captures this moment with beautiful restraint, knowing fully the gravity of such a small moment. In the midst of all the turbulent drama in this episode, this emerges as a quiet scene of uncanny serenity. Small does not have to be insignificant; this scene is a major point for Rita, a character that has been on the fringes of the main drama but whose path is clear and vivid as well. We finally see Rita breathe freely and so does the episode.

Richard Shepard - “Vows” (Episode 6)

This longtime film and television director enters the show for the first time with an eventful episode. In the show’s shortest episode (clocking in at 41 minutes), we see June, still shell-shocked after an airstrike, reunited with Moira (Samira Wiley) as they race against time and chaos to get out of Gilead. The central conflict of this episode is between June, still adamant to stay in Gilead in the hopes of saving Hannah, and Moira, shaking her up to make her realize that it is a lost cause. This is juxtaposed with the crowds of refugees pleading for help or even escape from war-torn Chicago. The way Shepard depicts the juxtaposition of the drama in the micro and macro level in this episode is masterful, showing how images of utmost desperation are reflected in intense close-ups of the characters as well as big crowd scenes. It is quite fascinating that the more the show zeroes in on the faces and the small interactions between long-lost friends as well as strangers, the more palpable the stakes of the humanitarian crisis get.

This is very evident in June and Moira’s confrontation away from the crowds. As June still insists on not leaving Gilead for Hannah, Moira lists all the reasons that June has to get on the boat and be with her other daughter Nichole. This is intercut with the scenes showing humanitarian team members packing up and running to the boat as the commotion from the refugees intensifies. While the clash of the two can be attributed more to the editing, it is in how Shepard stages these scenes where the weaving of the images takes on cumulative power. Shepard chose to capture both moments in close-ups, giving the human face to a large-scale turmoil as it unfolds in real-time. Even if we have known June for four seasons now while the refugees are faces we have not seen before nor will we ever see again, all of them are one and the same: victims of Gilead. This crisis is not composed of faceless crowds but of actual human beings fighting for survival. Amidst the chaos, Shepard executes this sequence with utmost clarity for advancing the storytelling as well as capturing genuine human emotion.

Elisabeth Moss - “Testimony” (Episode 8)

After directing the harrowing third episode “The Crossing” (which surprisingly was not her submission), the show’s star and one of its producers directs her eighth episode of the series. We see June as she prepares for the titular scene at the International Criminal Court against Fred Waterford. We then witness the repercussions of said speech. Like its title, this episode is about putting the heinous acts done in Gilead into words. It is also about characters facing one another as they make peace (or not) with their trauma. With a screenplay more verbose than usual, Moss approaches these not by capturing what it means to finally say the words but to confronting the human being behind those words. The show has never shied away from focusing on its actors’ faces, but this episode really calls for that visual strategy.

There is no better example of how that translates to screen well than the seven-minute uninterrupted take of June in court in the confirmation of charges against Fred (the longest shot in this show ever). Moss the actor is tasked to deliver a painful recounting of her ordeal in Gilead - friends lost, daughters separated, lives changed - and it is an expertly delivered monologue that sees her carefully shifting emotions. Moss the director gets to the heart of this piece by never looking away from June. From a medium wide shot looking up to her with halo-like lighting, the camera ever so slowly rises until we're in close-up June at our eye level as she talks to the judges (and us) asking for justice. By not cutting away to other characters, we absorb the gravity of her journey to this moment of reckoning. It is a risky directorial move within the context of the show, but Moss succeeds because she understood that in this moment, less is definitely more.

Liz Garbus - “The Wilderness” (Episode 10)

This two-time Oscar nominated and Emmy winning documentarian takes the reins for the season finale in her scripted television debut. We find June seeking her own kind of justice as the idea of Fred’s freedom becomes increasingly real. With Garbus’s direction, what is an outlandish premise is turned into an episode of utmost patience and precision. With expertly blocked shots, Garbus heightens the sense of isolation that June feels, the looming sense of defeat as the justice system fails her. What is interesting is that Garbus really tempers the pace of the episode for the most part; she trusts scenes of low-key dialogue as set-up of what is to come. Garbus keeps that unsettling tension going. It is only in the last twenty minutes of the episode where Garbus unveils the inevitable as she goes deep into the darkest extremes of trauma and revenge.

In the climactic particicution scene, Garbus retools several audio-visual cues from the first season: the circular formation of the women in serving punishment, the merciless chasing in the woods, June and Fred’s time in the sickening Jezebels, and even Lesley Gore’s “You Don’t Own Me”. However, these callbacks are not deployed as mere winks to the longtime fans. Inasmuch as there is a dark gratification in seeing her rapist be punished the Gileadean way, these recycled moments also point to the irreversible damage that Gilead has worked on June’s psyche. She may have made it to Canada, but Gilead has changed her. This is a moment that refuses to give the audience easy emotions; June’s moral compass is skewered, her judgment compromised, her darkness unleashed. To dismiss this scene as a cheap fanservice is to miss the point. Garbus pushes the heightened reality of the show while maintaining the emotional veracity of the moment. This is one of the most conflicting scenes from the season (and possibly, from the show) and Garbus’s audacity to explore the complexities of this moment is jaw-dropping.

Consider this piece a reminder that The Handmaid’s Tale remains a hallmark of scripted television. Four seasons in and the show still packs a punch as it continues to expand its world and explore its characters. Any of these five submissions would be deserving to be nominated for Outstanding Directing in a Drama Series.

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