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The TV adaptation of The Handmaid's Tale reaches way beyond the gender wars

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Fertile women kept as breeding stock. A reversion to Old Testament morality. Men as the "divine emperors" of their households – and of society. Margaret Atwood's dystopian classic was never a subtle metaphor. Published in the mid-1980s when second wave feminism was peaking (and the concomitant backlash gaining strength), The Handmaid's Tale was always intended to be cautionary, but not even the most pessimistic could envision the extent to which misogyny and the religious right would still dominate women's lives 30 years down the track.

Which makes this fabulous television adaptation even more chilling and compelling.

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Trailer: The Handmaid's Tale

A series based on the 1985 novel about the life of a woman living in a dystopian world where she is meant a have a child for a powerful family.

In the near future, the US government has been overthrown by fundamentalist Christians who use the latest technology (including armoured vehicles and state of the art weaponry) to impose a rigid 16th century ethos. Part of the impetus for the revolution (along with general social unrest) has been a "plague" of infertility. Not only does this convince a sufficient number of people that God must be appeased, it makes fruitful women a prized commodity who can no longer be allowed the luxury of reproducing when and with whom they please.

So our protagonist June (Elisabeth Moss) has been renamed Offred (that is, Of Fred – all breeders are now the property of their masters, and identified as such) and indentured to a wealthy household where her role is to be impregnated by the man of the house. That's the central narrative driver of the tale: June/Offred's oppression and ultimate resistance.

The "present" is meticulously and disturbingly realised, with its creepy juxtaposition of olde worlde costumes and customs with imminently recognisable contemporary artefacts (like the grocery scanners at the local mini-mart). Upping the freak-out factor are the flashbacks to the "past" which is essentially identical to our actual present, a world in which June went to college, got a job, watched TV shows on her iPad, and shrugged off everyday chauvinism as unimportant. Until it wasn't.

What's most interesting, though – and thought-provoking – is the nuanced way this brave new world has been imagined. It's not just a story about women being oppressed by blokes. It's certainly not a story about the warm glow of sisterhood. Atwood was always much more interested in the way rigid hierarchies and totalitarian rule damage everyone, including those at the top. And in the way power corrupts, even when you're part of the underclass. As countless critics and scholars have discussed over the years, Handmaid's Tale is inarguably a feminist tract. But it's also a sophisticated psychological and sociological study that reaches way beyond the gender wars.

So while the broad strokes here are certainly very broad, the magic is in the detail. Moss is perfectly cast, bringing a little of Mad Men's Peggy to the role: sweet-faced, not given to outward display, but silently, stubbornly rebellious. The characterisation across the board is terrific. Not many folk here are likeable, but all are thoroughly human and three-dimensional, and some of the most moving moments come from the most unexpected quarters.

And while it all might sound oppressively nightmarish, both Atwood's original story and showrunner Bruce Miller's intelligent adaptation dust the whole thing with a lively sense of absurdity and (in one scene, literally) gallows humour – keeping us hypnotised and often dismayed but also, always, entertained.

The Handmaid's Tale is available on SBS On Demand.