The Purge, Amazon Prime, review: silly but addictive spin-off sees another Baldwin mimic Trump

In a near-future American dystopia, right-wing reactionaries control the government and have inflicted a reign of Biblical terror upon the populace. That’s the story, more or less, of The Handmaid’s Tale – and also of a new and agreeably hokey television spin-off of the Purge movies (on the USA Network in America, and Amazon Prime in the UK). 

True, only one of these features people dressed as deranged rabbits hacking passersby with axes. Yet the message that the regressive (as Hollywood perceives them) tendencies buffeting present-day America politics could lead to a very dark place rings out with the same clarity in The Purge as it does in Hulu’s Margaret Atwood adaptation.

As commentary on the tensions that put Donald Trump into office, The Purge isn’t exactly subtle (and it's likely to alienate anyone regarding Trump and the Republican Party in a positive, or even neutral, light). Taking up the baton from the films, the first of 10 episodes of this limited-run television “event” – what, in the old days, they used to call a mini-series – finds the Land of the Free under the fascistic thumb of the New Founding Fathers of America, a sort of Fox News flight of fantasy made real. 

In their new world order, violence is another word for liberty. Once every year, in the ultimate celebration of American individualism and the right to bear arms, the security services step down for 12 hours, allowing the citizenry to vent their bloodiest desires by any means imaginable. “Purgers” enjoy dressing up, screaming and annoying their neighbours. So it’s essentially Halloween, only with machetes and automatic rifles. 

Across four big screen outings, the franchise has delivered gore, thrills and on-the-nose-political commentary – 2016’s The Purge: Election Year, for instance, featured a Hillary Clinton-esque politician running for office. The challenge the latest entry in the saga faces is that the short sharp shock trajectory of the films would quickly unspool if stretched to fill a 10-hour series.

Consequently the show, executive-produced by original Purge director James DeMonaco, moves to a slower beat. Most of part one takes place in the hours counting down to Purge night, as we are introduced to a cross-section of characters, each readying in their own way for the imminent orgy of bloodshed.

Wide-eyed Penelope (Jessica Garza) is a member of a Purge-worshipping cult whose acolytes offer themselves up to the murderous hordes. Just back from a stint with the marines, her brother Miguel (Gabriel Chavarria) is on her trail – though with Penelope having set off with a bus-load of sacrificial victims, he’s going to have to find her sooner rather than later. 

Likewise doing the unthinkable and stepping out on Purge night is high-flying executive Jane (Amanda Warren) , who works for a Donald Trump-esque billionaire (William Baldwin – the second member of the acting family to deliver a sledge-hammer Trump impersonation, after brother Alec on Saturday Night Live). She’s ostensibly at work to seal a major contract – so why has she just handed an iffy-looking mercenary a bundle of cash to fulfil an unspecified task?

The most engaging storyline features upwardly mobile power-couple Jenna (Hannah Emily Anderson) and Rick (Colin Woodell – bizarrely a dead ringer for Donald Trump’s son-in-law Jared Kushner). Desperate to close a big deal, they are attending a Purge-themed party hosted by a horrible New Founding Fathers of America nabob, who insists guests wear the masked images of well-known killers from history. Jenna gets to be one of the Manson family. 

There’s not much killing and absolutely no bloodshed – which will presumably disappoint fans of the films, where both were served by the bucketful. Nor are the parallels with America’s present day culture wars drawn with any nuance (as the billionaire, Baldwin doesn’t so much chew the scenery as gulp it down with a ladle). 

Still, there’s a delicious tension as we count down to Purge Commencement and, whether or not you care for the political commentary, the episode succeeds in bringing a B-movie lustre to the small screen. It’s silly but, in the manner of junk food and video games, undeniably addictive.