![]() Is it historically inaccurate? The first season didn’t seem to be, and I am sure the basics were vetted here, too. It positions itself as a historical drama, then refuses to rein in its need to give it of-the-now sensibilities. In short, I find myself in the same spot I landed in after watching Netflix’s Anne With an E: The failure to slap a corset on this script and not just on the actors is getting in my way. ![]() Or share the showrunners’ yearning to help make Hulu the official #MeToo network.īut I cannot help looking askance at a self-indulgent, wish-fulfillment-driven universe in which rich white men must be demonstrably and catastrophically evil, the poor are nearly always virtuous, every woman is smarter and craftier than every man, everyone is a victim of sexual abuse (like, everyone), anyone pious is either a hypocrite or a simpleton, and anyone from a downtrodden or marginalized demographic is unflaggingly noble (unless they are also wealthy, in which case they go directly to evil, unless they are the sex abuse victim of someone even wealthier). Especially if you have an indulgent attitude toward a slightly slovenly disregard for complexity. Are there a hell of a lot of predictable turns? Yes, and yet it’s still totally watchable. Does the exposed-pipe plot-setting feel mannered? Yes. Does the dialogue distract with some belligerently unedited anachronism? Yeah. And Lady Isabella Fitzwilliam-hey there, Liv Tyler!-is a fascinating addition. Margaret Wells is a madam you can’t help liking. ![]() Nancy, played by Kate Fleetwood, with her Jack Sparrow costumes, massive cheekbones and equally massive cheek, is a delight every second she’s on screen. Its lavish visual sensibility and general sauciness are great, and many of the characters are terrific fun. But by the end I was back in the saddle, sure. I can say that Harlots gets off to a slow, clunky start in Season Two: I didn’t really feel reeled in by it until probably the fourth episode. So I suppose it’s not surprising that the Warring Alpha Dames trope is so ubiquitous in storytelling ( Bette and Joan. This could be biology, socialization or (most likely) both, and teasing those apart is often a fruitless endeavor, but if you grew up in a female body you have almost certainly experienced psychological violence and manipulation at the hands of another female. Our mothers, our sisters, our friends, our frenemies, our rivals, our mentors-we’re socially complicated as a rule and we tend to test boundaries on psychological battlefields more than young boys. Women are, to use an admittedly broad but not statistically inaccurate generalization, more social than men, in the sense that we largely develop our sense of self through our relationships with other women (Google “self in relation theory” if this is not ringing your bells). The shadowy specter of violence against women by men is almost pathetic compared to the stuff Margaret Wells (Samantha Morton) and Lydia Quigley (Lesley Manville) are up to. In Georgian-era London’s richly populated sex-worker scene, it is apparently the same. The major game in Gilead is not men versus women, it’s the conniving, undermining, psychologically brutal and often enough physically violent clashes between and among women. Causal? Coincidental? I could probably make an argument either way, and I don’t intend to bother. Has it changed? Have I changed? Do I have Gilead Fatigue Syndrome? Which specialist do you even call for that test? I’ve been in an immersive relationship with The Handmaid’s Tale for months now, and I’ve been thinking a lot about the shadow of Ye Olde Patriarchy (or is it?): Namely, the tendency, in oppressive patriarchal systems, for the truly hideous violence to be by women against other, competing women. OK, Hulu: Let’s talk about power and weakness, shall we? Like many, I gave Season One of Harlots a very positive review. It’s your weakness.” - Harlots, Season Two – “It’s not your power we’re at the mercy of. – “Women will always be at the mercy of men’s power.”
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