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.