The Handmaid’s Tale – Season 4, Episode 5

The emerging theme of this season of The Handmaid’s Tale is simple: Janine and June are mirror images of each other, now perched on equal footing.  Where June uses her anger as her focal point of motivation, Janine’s resilience springs forth from her empathy.  June’s sense of fairness anchors her unbending moral code, but her empathy sometimes teeters on a knife’s edge.  She can be cold and ruthless when circumstances require it of her, and when she requires it of herself.

In “Milk,” Janine offers herself as a human bargaining chip to the resistance leader, Steven.  What begins as a single, coerced sexual favor evolves into something else; Janine takes him as her consensual lover.  June balks at the development, accusing Steven of taking advantage of Janine’s vulnerability.  As the resistance leader, he’s in a position of power over her.  If she ever decides to rescind consent, it’s possible that he could be vindictive and cast both her—and June—out from the umbrella of his protection.

June leaves them to their lovemaking and watches Chicago’s night sky as it erupts in a distant firestorm.  The imagery is brief but chilling.  Americans have no frame of reference for this level of sustained barbarism on their own soil.  It’s a sobering and terrible glimpse at the lengths an oppressive, theocratic state striving to eliminate “undesirable” citizens will go to.  (One can only hope it motivates some to think outside our narrow borders and focus on very real and very immediate examples of similar violent oppression in other countries, namely Palestine.)

The resistance group prepares to trade freeze-dried rations for battery packs and fuel.  When June discovers they must to trek across the city to meet with another group to make the exchange, she requests to come along.  Steven bristles at her request and denies it outright; Janine instantly recognizes that they’re like two rams butting heads, both accustomed to the reins of leadership.  She implores Steven to give June a chance, citing her accomplishments, like Angel’s Flight, to bolster his confidence in her abilities.  He relents.

Cast out of active duty as punishment for the death toll from June and Janine’s escape, Aunt Lydia bristles at her confinement, locked in what looks like a recreation room for Aunts put out to pasture.  When a new batch of handmaids enter the courtyard below, she implores her superior, Aunt Ruth, to let her back in the game.  “The girls are not your concern anymore”, comes the firm response.  Lydia has run out of chances.

Commander Lawrence makes the most of his second chance with Gilead’s high council.  He beseeches them not to retaliate against Canada for the “abduction” of Gilead’s children, instead suggesting a temporary ceasefire along their borders, permitting international aid brief access to any “undesirables” who want asylum.

“I want to take the moral high ground to hasten the speed of trade negotiations”, he reasons, “If we can end these sanctions, we can prosper, if we prosper we can crush this insurgency”.

In truth, there’s no moral high ground; only politics, power, and egos.  Lawrence’s plea falls on deaf ears, and his proposition meets unanimous rejection.  In private, he tells Nick that June could be in Chicago and might benefit from a ceasefire there.  Nick’s network of Eyes haven’t confirmed the hypothesis, so he rejects the possibility.  It’s easier than considering the alternative.

Both June and Janine accompany Steven’s group as they set out to make the supply exchange.  They bypass ruins and smoking vehicles.  June notices a charred corpse in the road; the insignia on his uniform indicates he’s a member of the Nighthawks, a resistance group far more organized and aggressive than Steven’s.  They take refuge in the husk of an abandoned restaurant when a patrol gets close.  June wants to engage them, but Steven forbids it.  “What happens when they don’t report back?” he asks her.  Gilead will just send more patrols, more soldiers.  His leadership philosophy centers around survival rather than active resistance, and June hates it.

They eventually find refuge in what remains of Chicago’s Field Museum, surrounded by shattered glass and dinosaur skeletons.  It’s a desolate and arresting visual, one that immediately evokes America’s looting of Iraq’s National Museum of Antiquity and National Library, which destroyed hundreds of thousands of irreplaceable artifacts from civilizations like Mesopotamia, Babylonia, and Sumeria.  The Hague Convention stipulates that acts of war must protect artistic treasures – a direct result of Nazis looting occupied Europe during World War II.  Like any other oppressive militaristic force, Gilead destroyed priceless artifacts with ignorance and impunity.

When June rebuffs the friendly overtures of a man in their group, Janine questions her self-imposed isolation.  June warns Janine that she shouldn’t get too attached to Steven; death is an imminent possibility for all of them.  Janine observes that life is short anywhere, not just on the front lines of Gilead’s bombed-out borders.  She’s enjoying what she can of Steven’s presence – despite how he originally made protection contingent on sexual favors – because she wants to enjoy agency over her own body, binging on pleasurable sex while she’s capable of having it.   Steven is a barrier that June can’t see past; when Janine suggests she wants to stay with him and have a family of her own, it’s the impetus June needs to leave in pursuit of the Nighthawks.

Commander Lawrence and Aunt Lydia are both on the outs.  She approaches him with a proposition: if he reinstates her, she won’t inform the Council of his myriad damning secrets.  Impressed by her brazenness, and recognizing that she’s got blackmail material on all the council members, Lawrence suggests an alliance between them.  If she can get him the dirt on Commander Calhoun, he can strategically reposition himself.  It’s the only way he’ll have the power to fulfill her request – and mitigate damage in Chicago.  Lydia returns to her position as a fanatical shepherd for a new set of “girls”.  Lawrence brokers a deal with the help of a cowed Calhoun; its one contingency of the agreement is an aerial bombardment right before ceasefire.

As June navigates the husk that remains of Chicago’s city center, she’s surprised to find that Janine following her.  Not content to simply be “Ofsteven,” Janine admits, “I feel safer when we’re together; handmaids always walk in twos.”

They’ve been through too much together to separate by choice; they make a formidable pair.  Janine’s situational awareness has become razor sharp – she immediately recognizes the lack of Gilead soldiers or patrols as a sign that something isn’t right.  All troops cleared from the city to avoid the imminent blitz.

When jets fly overhead, June and Janine try to find shelter, but it’s too late.  An unspecified amount of time passes before June awakens.  She’s disoriented and can hear voices through the ringing in her ears.  Canadian Aid workers call out for survivors; June forces herself to her feet and tries to find Janine amidst the chaos.  The bond between them severs so abruptly, we haven’t the time to process its implications.  Despite their moments of tension, June and Janine have been through so much together for so long, that’s it’s almost impossible to imagine one of them forging forward alone without the other.  To upend that equilibrium could either be narratively disastrous or inspired.  The last moment of the episode is a gut-punch; we’ll see where the story goes from here.