They say that history doesn’t repeat itself, but it often rhymes. Hulu’s first Margaret Atwood adaptation, the award-winning “The Handmaid’s Tale,” became a cultural phenomenon when it premiered in 2017, its exploration of extreme misogyny, authoritarianism, and the battle over women’s reproductive rights an uncomfortably timely companion to the first Donald Trump administration. The show’s iconic red cloaks and white bonnets became mainstays at protests and demonstrations, and many of its most recognizable sayings (“Under His Eye,” “Blessed be the fruit”) crossed over into mainstream political commentary.
Sure, much of the hype around the show had fizzled by the time it concluded in 2025: six seasons of escalating torture porn with a global pandemic in the middle was a lot for even the most invested viewer to stomach. But it’s hard to overstate what a necessary piece of resistance entertainment its earliest seasons were.
Now, the streamer’s second Atwood series, based on the author’s long-awaited “Handmaid’s” follow-up, “The Testaments,” arrives at a political and cultural moment that bears some uncomfortably striking similarities to the one that greeted its predecessor. A year into a second Trump administration, the politics of both resistance and survival have changed drastically, so it’s only natural that the world of Gilead and its evils would have similarly evolved. But while “The Testaments” may approach its subject matter quite differently—its protagonists are teen girls, there’s a conspicuous lack of visible Handmaids, and much less grisly violence—its themes are no less complex and its story no less necessary.
Like “The Handmaid’s Tale” before it, “The Testaments” is not what anyone would call a particularly strict adaptation of Atwood’s novel. But, while it may play a bit fast and loose with multiple elements of the book’s story, the spirit of the piece is exactly right. Disturbingly relevant and brutal by turns, the series is as incisive and insightful as its predecessor. Here, the monstrousness of Gilead is dressed in the soft silks of privilege and the quiet comfort of ignorance, and resistance is grounded as much in solidarity and friendship as it is rage. The result is an unexpectedly powerful coming-of-age tale that offers a fresh, essential return to a universe many viewers likely thought had nothing new to say.
THE TESTAMENTS
While Atwood’s novel picks up 15 years after the events of “The Handmaid’s Tale,” only about four years or so have passed in the world of the TV show. Purges have taken place in the wake of the War of Massachusetts, and much of the history of what happened has been shaped, if not outright rewritten, by those who survived. Aunt Lydia (Ann Dowd), a key player in much of “The Handmaid’s Tale,” who has, as the show puts it, “been worshipped, vilified, and is now worshipped again,” now runs a school for the daughters of Gilead’s elite. These young women, raised in luxury and advantage, have little real understanding of what life is really like for the female servants in their own households, let alone the women outside their country’s repressive borders.
Aunt Lydia’s school is a sort of authoritarian finishing academy, where young women are sent not to better themselves but to learn how to carry out the various wifely duties expected of them as the future spouses of Gilead’s most highly ranked Commanders. Here, reading isn’t as necessary as embroidery, concepts like sex education are basically nonexistent, and obedience is paramount. The students’ uniforms are color coordinated: Pinks are the youngest girls, Plums are older teens, and Greens are those who’ve become “eligible” and can marry that year. (This transition occurs if and only if a Plum gets her period, which is marked by a public confession and praise ceremony.)
The bulk of the story revolves around Agnes MacKenzie (Chase Infiniti), the pious daughter of a powerful Gilead leader. She’s never wanted for anything and has no experience or awareness of life before or outside of Gilead. On some level, it’s almost disturbing how typical she seems, chasing around after her friends on school field trips, crushing on the handsome young man assigned to serve as her personal security, worrying over the fit of a new skirt.
But things begin to change when she’s asked to mentor Daisy (Lucy Halliday), a recently arrived Pearl Girl—Aunt Lydia’s term for a foreigner who has come to Gilead seeking to convert and commit to its way of life—from Canada, who has a painful history and secrets of her own. As the two grow closer, Daisy’s forthrightness leads Agnes to begin to question the world around her in ways that threaten to change her life and future forever.
AMY SEIMETZ
One of the most remarkable things about “The Testaments” is that, for all its dystopian setting and authoritarian trappings, it’s actually a fairly relatable and compelling teen drama. Yes, it takes place in a nightmarish hellscape where most of the girls at its center don’t know enough about the world around them to recognize everything that they’re missing out on. (Like freedom and bodily autonomy.)
Yet, many of its plot beats are still deeply familiar: The girls get jealous of one another’s successes, have crushes they shouldn’t, and stress about meeting the expectations of others. In fact, they often seem so normal that it’s genuinely shocking when they suddenly parrot the familiar talking points of their government about things like gender traitors and fallen women. But over the course of the season’s ten episodes, they find increasing ways (both subtle and not so much) to finally claim their own power.
Infiniti makes for a capable lead, walking a fine line between Gilead golden girl and traditional teen, engaging in small acts of rebellion, resenting the adults in her life (particularly her unkind stepmother), and questioning the truth of the parentage she’s been kept from. (Like many in Gilead, she is technically the daughter of a Handmaid.) But it is Halliday who steals the show, her Daisy a mass of contradictions and rage, who finds herself much more attached to the girls at Aunt Lydia’s than she ever expected to be.
The show has a strong ensemble feel, and the friendships among the girls at its center feel lived-in and relatable, despite the horrific circumstances in which they unfold. Mattea Conforti is a particular standout as Agnes’s Gilead BFF Becka, and Rowan Blanchard offers some surprisingly satisfying comedic moments as group gossip Shunammite.
“The Testaments” is many things: A political cautionary tale, a warning against both complicity and complacency, a love letter to friendship, and a welcome reminder of the power of teenage girls to change the world. If the lessons of “The Handmaid’s Tale” revolved around a single woman’s ability to fight for change, here that work is transformed into a group effort—and a necessary reminder that even in the bleakest of times, we’re stronger than we are apart.
All ten episodes screened for review. Premieres April 8 on Hulu.