The saga of the dystopian genre post-Hunger Games era has been an enlightening one, as creators are forced to workshop their cautionary concepts. But while this has given us some absolute showstoppers, others still fall into the world-building trap.

Landing squarely in the middle is Motherland. In an alternate present, the state seizes and raises all children, relieving mothers from this “burden.” At one of the children’s centers, a chance meeting prompts Cora (Miriam Silverman) to reevaluate her past and her present.

Cora is a kind of scorekeeper, determining which young people best adhere to the rules, earning them a sH๏τ at the best jobs. Just after Cora stumbles across her own daughter Zinnia (Emily Arancio), the center announces an initiative to boost the population, with Zinnia being a candidate to bear a new child.

As Far As Weirdly Specific Dystopias Go, Motherland Is Relatively Well-Executed

Motherland‘s premise holds a lot of promise; to some, state-sponsored, quality childcare sounds like a utopia. The movie nods to the real-world issues that this system might solve when children in this society are all given the same comfortable (if modest) upbringing, while adults, particularly women, aren’t caught between raising a child and needing to work to support the child.

The catch is that no one has the choice to raise their child if they wish, and must surrender them to Motherland. Motherland also accurately shows how an authoritarian regime ensures its own survival: it presents the one option as freedom, heavily controls language, smooths over the stories that make it to the news, and quietly does away with dissenters.

There are some interesting sH๏τs of the landscapes, the newsreels, characters avoiding eye contact or being isolated within hallways, all serving to emphasize the themes of the mythos of Motherland and emotional detachment. The score was also surprisingly good, with some softly chilling arrangements.

This vignette narrative unfortunately defaults a few times to characters making ill-advised choices or things going wrong in the most (in)convenient way possible to keep the plot going. It’s not interested in what the bigger world looks like, but the small-scale tragedies caused by Motherland, when human happiness is supposed to be the ultimate goal.

Holland Taylor Is A Standout In Motherland

And That’s Kind Of A Problem Considering The Story

However, Motherland lacks the nuance it could have had when it leans towards ᴀssuming a universal experience of pregnancy and motherhood, and the only character to provide a different perspective is the villain. Holland Taylor indisputably gives the best performance, playing the head of the children’s center.

Taylor’s Toni came of age as society was rearranged; the character is brilliantly collected, even caring, yet convinced enough to gaslight and kill. She compellingly reveals how she never wanted to be a mother, but was pressured into it, and believes the new order saved her and the child.

Silverman’s performance balances stoicism and pᴀssion (though you wonder why Cora wasn’t caught sooner when she is so obviously distressed), providing an also compelling voice about how the maternal loss she feels is normal. Arancio makes a decent debut, but more fascinating is Pearl Shin as seemingly harsh nurse Alice, who quietly uses her position to occasionally see her own daughter.

Motherland starts extremely relevant conversations about what causes economic inequity and how the state decides who has the right to raise children. But it could have further explored these themes and more authentically incorporated the experiences of women who don’t want children (but still feel some loss).

Despite the story’s narrow thematic vision, Motherland is a desolate watch, pinpointing how the ultimate evil is people being unable to decide for themselves. But in its depiction of the regime telling its acolytes that one choice is wrong, the characters and narrative inherently suggest that the other choice is wrong.