If you want proof that machismo is turning into something you might come across only on old VHS tapes, sample some male domestic bliss in The Way of the Househusband (Netflix). When even the most liberally tattooed ex-yakuza can throw on an apron, feed the cat, make dinner for his wife, operate the vacuum cleaner, volunteer for a spot of neighbourhood babysitting, bake cookies and then sort out the recycling, you know times they are a-changin’. Agreed: this eccentric Japanese production is an anime comedy, but its five-part first series is not without its home truths. With so-called traditional roles reversed, Tatsu (once a gangster known as the Immortal Dragon, who still looks intimidating enough to instil fear in rivals from his previous life) keeps the household running while Miku, his independent, career-minded partner goes out to work (and wears the trousers). In a time of increasing gender equality and inversion of norms, this might even offer a blueprint for future human relations. Based on the manga series of the same name written and illustrated by Kousuke Oono, The Way of the Househusband might be simple and somewhat static in its animation, but this optimistic fable of the yakuza with a heart of gold is undeniably appealing in its unexpectedly sunny view of life. And flashbacks to Tatsu’s alter ego as an implacable criminal allow a handy “now and Zen” contrast, his unlikely transformation being confirmed when aerobics, yoga and do-it-yourself (rather than doing people in) enter his life. “Being a househusband ain’t no joke,” declares Tatsu, on his hands and knees, polishing the floor and no longer seeking the way of the dragon, ninja or gun. Perhaps men are finally starting to understand the rigours of domestic engineering. The Handmaid’s Tale returns for season four You can’t keep a good dystopia down, particularly one created by novelist Margaret Atwood . Yes, we’re Gilead-bound again with the fourth series of The Handmaid’s Tale , in which fertile women, as state property, are forced to become breeding machines – human puppy mills – to repopulate a world reeling from pollution and other environmental disasters, one effect of which has been infertility. Gilead’s male rulers also legislate religious fundamentalism and racism, which is precisely what you’d expect in a republic analogous to the present-day or next-edition United States. Whether the species will ultimately do better or regress into terror, persecution and the obliteration of human rights depends on the courage of those who defy hostile odds to fight for personal and general liberties. Chief among them is Offred (also known as June and played by Elisabeth Moss), who begins this season (now showing on HBO Go) injured and on the run across a frozen landscape. Also out of Gilead (at least for the moment) are 86 children, smuggled into Canada to the fury of Gilead’s dictators. Can Offred, restored to some kind of health and her position as ringleader of the Mayday resistance network, offer the wider world a means of beating totalitarianism … from her position as a refugee hiding on a farm? Notwithstanding the unexpected splashes of joy in the gloom, The Handmaid’s Tale remains a sinister, sombre thriller based partly on the idea of how humans, who are social animals, react to societal collapse – and what they use to fill the void. With the likes of insidious Commander Fred Waterford (Joseph Fiennes) among those ruling the households in which the handmaids are enslaved, that void-filling isn’t pretty. Most disturbing about Atwood’s creation, however, is the fact that it isn’t a vision of a possible future: it’s a description of the world as she has already observed it.