‘The Purge’ Saw All This Coming

What if the clearest vision of where America was headed was folded into a film franchise that nobody took seriously? When The Purge debuted in 2013, its vision of the United States in the near-future year of 2022 seemed ludicrous. And, in some respects, its central premise was ludicrous then and (hopefully) remains ludicrous now. But the same can’t be said of many of the details that surround it. A just-around-the-corner dystopia in which power had been seized by an authoritarian government with ideas and policies that made The Handmaid’s Tale’s Republic of Gilead look progressive? It’s a lot harder to say it couldn’t happen here now than it was just a little over a decade ago.

Here’s a Purge refresher: For 12 hours each spring, all crime is legal in the United States, ostensibly so the populace can use this window to vent all its violent impulses in a contained stretch of time. On Purge Night, those who can afford to hunker down in safety can choose to do that. Those who want to take to the streets, run riot, and kill whoever they wish can do that too. And everyone else, those who just want a safe, quiet night? Well, they’re screwed. Not only will law enforcement look the other way, the government actively encourages all citizens to participate in Purge Night for the greater good of the country.

This, almost certainly, will never happen. If nothing else, the plan falls apart the minute you try to game out how it might work. (If you murder someone five minutes before Purge Night starts or five minutes after it ends, who’s going to know? Etc.) Beyond being far-fetched, the series’ core idea is logistically unsound. Why, then, does so much else that The Purge and its sequels predicted seem prescient?

Maybe that’s because James DeMonaco, the writer of all five (to date) Purge films and the director of the first three entries, never seems to be trying to look that far ahead. Set in 2022, five years after the first national Purge Night, The Purge doesn’t look particularly futuristic. apart from the high-end security systems sold by James Sandin (Ethan Hawke). James’ success has allowed him and his family to build an expansion onto the already-luxurious house in the secluded upscale suburb they call home, a place they believe to be safe from The Purge, which they can watch on television from the safety of their own home. (Or, as James suggests, maybe watch a movie instead. Why not make a family night of it?)

It’s the film’s media reports that first suggest DeMonaco understood how fascism might ooze into everyday life. As James drives home, he listens to a radio call-in show that makes clear that The Purge has become a widely accepted tradition. Whatever outrage might have greeted the introduction of Purge Night has faded. A caller announcing plans to kill his boss prompts the host to point out that more people than ever will be purging this year. Another who raises the objection that the poor suffer disproportionately to the rich—a key element that runs through all the movies—gets a shrugging response. “We all got our own opinions,” the host replies. “That’s what makes this country great.” At home, James’s wife Mary (Lena Headey) watches a labcoat-clad scientist talk about the psychological benefits of The Purge, the first of several examples of crank science being used as an excuse to enact authoritarian policy. (The government’s stance on vaccines remains unmentioned.)