THE STORY – HAMNET tells the powerful story of love and loss that inspired the creation of Shakespeare’s timeless masterpiece, Hamlet.
THE CAST – Jessie Buckley, Paul Mescal, Emily Watson & Jacobi Jupe
THE TEAM – Chloé Zhao (Writer/Director) & Maggie O’Farrell (Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 125 Minutes
Some grief can burrow inside of you, haunting you, eroding you, leaving you to figure out if there’s even a way forward. The pain can radiate outward, creating invisible cracks in the foundation of other relationships. It’s a personal, primal, often quiet suffering. This is the sort of anguish that descends upon Agnes and William Shakespeare in “Hamnet,” the new film from Academy Award winner Chloé Zhao (“Nomadland”). It’s a masterful reflection on how grief tears us apart, and the ways in which we try to put ourselves back together again. It is a film that lingers long after the credits roll, embedding its quiet power into the viewer’s mind and heart, a meditation on loss that is both intimate and universal.
Based on the book by Maggie O’Farrell, who also adapted the screenplay alongside Zhao, “Hamnet” imagines a young Shakespeare, played by Paul Mescal (“Aftersun” & “Gladiator II”), long before becoming the renowned playwright. While working as a Latin tutor, he strikes up a relationship with the enigmatic Agnes (Jessie Buckley, “The Lost Daughter” & “Women Talking”). Rumors swirl about her (perhaps she’s a forest witch?), but William is undeterred. The pair have kids in quick succession: first a girl, Susanna, followed by a set of twins, Hamnet and Judith. As the family grows, so do William’s aspirations, leading him to spend a great deal of time in London, away from his family in the country. The film meticulously observes the subtle shifts in their domestic life, from the quiet routines of caring for children to the unspoken tensions that accompany ambition and absence. It is in these small, observational moments that Zhao finds the emotional core of the story.
Though this is a fictional tale about such a well-known figure, “Hamnet” is much less interested in weaving the story of Shakespeare honing his craft or becoming famous. Much like in Zhao’s previous work, she brings a stillness to the story, more interested in showcasing the emotion in the passage of time rather than hitting plot beats. While this occasionally means the story jumps around a bit, Zhao invests a great deal of time in the humanity of William and Agnes, allowing their love and pain to dominate the experience. She explores grief as a living, breathing force that shapes the characters’ choices, their movements, and the very air they inhabit.
Zhao’s naturalistic direction is unlike that of nearly any other film set in the Elizabethan era. This family isn’t stuffy or rote, nor do they feel out of place in that time period. A patient, often slow-moving camera lets moments linger, capturing the unique shadow of a tree or the flight of a hawk. More than anything, Zhao unleashes devastating performances from Buckley and Mescal, both of whom deliver career-best work. Buckley, in particular, invokes a primal energy in Agnes. It’s impossible to imagine anyone else capturing the same unique alchemy of intensity and assuredness. There are moments when it seems the grief is pouring out of Buckley, even without a single sound. Mescal matches her with a level of calm that’s no less impactful. Not to be outdone by the adults, Jacobi Jupe plays Hamnet with a shocking amount of maturity for such a young performer. In pivotal moments, Jupe brings a desperately needed earnestness to the role. The interplay among the three actors creates a palpable familial bond, one that makes the film’s eventual tragedies even more devastating.
While “Hamnet” is, in many ways, a new challenge for Zhao as a filmmaker, her distinct style is still entirely recognizable. Pairing with cinematographer Łukasz Żal, Zhao maintains the same naturalistic shooting style that made “The Rider” and “Nomadland” so authentic. Although it’s not highly stylized, the film features breathtaking images throughout. The camera is never rushed. Its patient eye captures exactly what it means to, often simply slowly panning around a scene to reveal more. It’s effective work that helps all of the crafts shine. There’s an unexpectedly ominous soundscape to this world as well, as though thunder was often rumbling in the distance, a warning sign of what’s to come. Max Richter’s original score plays in tandem with this ominous soundscape, usually more atmospheric than anything else. It works well, even if the most impactful musical moment in the score reuses his pre-existing piece “On The Nature of Daylight.” Sound and music are intricately intertwined with the visuals in a way that heightens tension, giving the audience a visceral sense of the underlying sorrow that pervades the story.
As William goes off to make something of himself in London, Agnes is left to care for the family. Emotional distance grows in tandem with physical separation. When tragedy strikes, the rift between them seems irreparable. While the plot description itself hints at the tragedy, that’s all we’ll say here. However, the film culminates in an unbelievably effective conclusion that offers a fresh perspective on Shakespeare’s work, showing that grief can illuminate as much as it devastates.
Thanks to Zhao’s tender direction and Buckley and Mescal’s astonishing performances, this story and its adaptation is so human. The pain of their loss is palpable and surpasses the specific time and place of the story. And yet, using Shakespeare as the frame for this story of grief has a profound effect. Rather than simply talking through the grief or letting time heal the wounds, it transforms into a meditation on storytelling as a means of processing the pain. Though this is a fictional story about a real loss in Shakespeare’s life, “Hamnet” seemingly recontextualizes “Hamlet,” bringing new layers to the work. Zhao positions grief not as a narrative hurdle but as the very lens through which life, love, and creativity are examined.
As we see in “Hamnet,” storytelling also has a unifying effect. One can process grief alone, but sharing the heartache through a story can help others see the grief in new ways. That’s certainly true of William and Agnes, but also of the crowd who shared in the premiere of this film. With Zhao’s sensitive direction, you could tangibly feel a sense of catharsis among the audience. It’s the rare film that’s able to devastate its audience so thoroughly, but still allow them to exhale whatever hurt they’re carrying along the way. “Hamnet” isn’t just a masterful film; it’s a genuine emotional experience from a director tapping into something remarkable. Ultimately, the film asserts that sorrow, when confronted honestly and shared empathetically, can be as transformative as it is destructive, leaving audiences both moved and contemplative long after the screen goes dark.