The residential school system has to come to represent one of the darkest periods and greatest atrocities in Canadian history. Today, the verbal, physical and even sexual abuses experienced by Canadian aboriginal children are common knowledge, and the motivation behind this systematic attempt by the Canadian government in conjunction with the Catholic Church to eradicate the culture and ancient practices of an entire community is well known. The residential school system was designed to assimilate indigenous groups into colonial Canadian society by any means possible, and this brutal destruction of identity and culture is an abhorrent and embarrassing period of history for many Canadians, and rightfully so. Perhaps more tragically, the effects of the system linger in many aboriginal societies, and issues of resentment, poverty and loss of identity stemming from this dark period of history continue to plague many indigenous populations at large, further widening the gulf between aboriginal peoples and the rest of colonial Canada.

I’ve often wondered how there could be so little investigation, so little resistance to the residential school system during the decades in which it operated. However, I now feel that I have part of the answer after watching a propaganda video filmed and published by the Canadian government in an effort to conceal the true nature and motivation behind the residential school system. In this video, bright-eyed, happy aboriginal children play skip rope, enjoy participating in a game of hockey and eagerly learn cursive English vocabulary from an earnest and honest teacher. Throughout this video, a calm and eloquent speaker provides a voiceover describing the various activities enjoyed by the aboriginal children, while constantly emphasizing that enrollment in the residential school was for their own good. He stresses that these schools allow children in remote areas of the country to receive an education, and also how a Western education in English would allow the children to fully join and compete in Canadian society. If I watched this video when in aired in the 1950’s, I certainly would be persuaded of the benefits awaiting aboriginal children who attended a residential school, and I would also be convinced that they were being fairly, compassionately and positively treated. The video would have achieved its purpose in the eyes of the government, fully convincing me to support the residential school system.

However, with the benefit of hindsight, I completely recognize the video as propaganda and a blatant lie to the Canadian people. The music alternates between a happy, playful tune and a tranquil, peaceful tone, immediately conveying a positive impression on a viewer. The images of happy aboriginal children appear fake and staged. In particular, the fact that the government is asserting an argument that “everything is fine” in relation to how it is treating a group of its own citizens raises flags of alarm in my mind, as I recognize this to be a classic standby of state propaganda. In truth, this video reminds me of similar videos that I’ve seen produced by Nazi Germany, which were designed to display the positive experience of a state concentration camp. The video produced by the Canadian government is clearly propaganda: not only does it ignore the horrors that we know today as being an intrinsic part of the residential school system in an attempt to package a more positive message to the Canadian public, but it also features the government attempting to argue that it knows best for its people, and that its residential schools explicitly benefit and support the children who attend them. Any time any government makes assertions like these, I think the public should immediately become cautious of being duped by persuasive propaganda. It’s unfortunate that the Canadian public failed to recognize the deceit of their government until it was too late to undo the atrocities and absolve the countless wounds inflicted upon innocent aboriginal citizens by decades of the residential school system.

The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood explores the story of Offred, a woman living in service of the Republic of Gilead, whose sole purpose in life is to conceive and deliver a child for the state. The Handmaid’s Tale is a stark and bleak novel, and it concludes (spoilers!) rather ambiguously, with Offred being forced into a van that will bear her to an uncertain future. This ending forces readers to determine the final conclusion to Offred’s story for themselves, and I’m personally inclined to believe that Offred has been arrested by the state and will either face execution or a slow death in the desert, shoveling toxic waste as an unwoman for the meager span of time remaining to her.

However, the film version of the novel offers a wildly different conclusion to Offred’s story, in keeping with the general deviance from Atwood’s novel that it exhibits throughout. In the film, Offred murders the Commander that she is in service to and makes a daring escape into the distant mountains, aided by her lover, Nick. The film ends with Offred discussing her relative safety and freedom, while preparing to have her and Nick’s child. In contrast to Atwood’s novel, the film develops and asserts a proper “Hollywood” conclusion to Offred’s tale. However, should the director, producers and the screenwriters have attempted to adhere more closely to the cliffhanger conclusion presented by Atwood?

Any disappointment with the film’s conclusion expressed by Atwood’s readers is completely understandable. The film blatantly ignores Atwood’s conclusion, and transforms Offred into a suddenly assertive character that kills her Commander in brutal fashion with a knife and is daringly rescued by her love to live happily in the mountains with her child, free of the tyranny of the Gilead regime. Though the ending of the film contradicts Atwood’s own conclusion, and I personally prefer the ambiguity and distinct lack of Hollywood sentiment of the novel, I respect the right of the director and producers to offer their own artistic interpretation of events and appreciate the closure it provides, as well as the difficulty that the screenwriters would have faced in adapting Atwood’s novel for the big screen.

Novelists are inherently storytellers and artists, and so are directors, screenwriters and producers. As long as legal issues are addressed and permission is granted, directors should be able to work with a novel’s framework and expand upon the source material, offering their own interpretations and artistic contributions to the telling of a story. Artistic freedom and the different perspectives that it provides should be encouraged and supported, even when it deviates from the original material, including Atwood’s Handmaid’s Tale. This said, the film ending to the Handmaid’s Tale may lack the ambiguity of Atwood’s, but it does well to provide a measure of closure to audiences, as well as an interpretation of what may have happened to Offred following her “arrest.” Particularly after being exposed to the dark and bleak world and social structure of Gilead, audiences, including myself, may appreciate the closure and happier ending that the film interpretation provides. In addition to artistic freedom and providing closure, the film’s conclusion works as the ending to a movie. The Handmaid’s Tale features a relatively passive protagonist and a bleak storyline that would be incredibly difficult to transform into a financially viable film. The decidedly happier and more exciting conclusion would help to satisfy audiences far more than the dark and ambiguous ending provided by Atwood.

While I personally prefer the ending of the novel, the film ending of The Handmaid’s Tale should not be automatically declared a false or poor conclusion to the story. Those involved with the movie had a full right to interpret events and artistic freedom to tell the story as they wished, and the closure that their ending provides and the difficulty in adapting Atwood’s novel into a viable film should be appreciated and respected. The Handmaid’s Tale as a film does not conclude as the novel does, but it has no real obligation to do so.