REVIEW: "Hamnet" (2025)

(Courtesy IMDb) 

It’s been years since I’ve studied and/or invested myself in the works of renowned and enduring playwright William Shakespeare. But as of recently, I may have something of a newfound appreciation for the man and what he was known for, thanks to director Chloé Zhao. Returning to the director's chair for the first time in four years, the Nomadland filmmaker (along with co-producers Steven Spielberg and Sam Mendes) presents a bittersweet, emotionally-heavy, and beautiful adaptation of Maggie O’Farrell's novel about the inspiration behind Shakespeare's play, Hamlet. More specifically, Hamnet focuses less on the man himself and more on his wife Agnes and their three children. So if you’re looking for a conventional biopic on Shakespeare himself, you won’t find it here. (But don’t let that steer you clear.) 

The first trailer for this new release (screened in advance at this year’s Twin Cities Film Festival, and out nationwide this December) amazed me and had me placing it high on my watchlist, thanks to its combination of captivating (and natural) cinematography, impeccable art direction and costume design, and committed performances from leads Paul Mescal (as Shakespeare) and especially Jessie Buckley (as Agnes). 

There are glimpses of Shakespeare’s writing process, including his inspiration, poetry, and storytelling. And what a storyteller he is. (I wonder, though, if they really did ear piercings back then.) Mescal’s reserved and introspective portrayal reveals a man who apparently wasn’t very social, and battled feelings of bitterness and depression (exemplified in one long take during one of his play rehearsals), as well as alcoholism. More importantly, this is a portrayal of a man questioning what he is living and working for. 

But again, this story (adapted for the screen by Zhao and O’Farrell)’s main focus is on Shakespeare’s wife Agnes and their three children. In fact, the opening shot (set to Max Richter’s lovely score) finds Agnes lying in the woods, next to a great tree and cave, immediately indicating that she has a spiritual relationship with nature. Not to mention an ability to see premonitions via touch. Both her and William come from two different households and cultures, with complicated and challenging family dynamics and memories. 

Hamnet is a distinct example of a recent film that carries spiritual elements inside a secular worldview. (“He loves me for who I am, not for what I ought to be,” Agnes says of William.) While certain places ignite childhood trauma for the two leads, there are also visual metaphors of weather (i.e., a storm intercut with one childbirth, with water coming into the home) and of a literal stage (with a painted forest as its backdrop, as well as a doorway), as well as examples of lessons and ethics they pass on to their children (including respecting nature). Recurring themes center around life, sickness, death, resurrection, sacrifice (“I give you my life, and you shall be well”), and beautiful things being created, in spite of (or because of) pain and tragedy. 

There are moments of joy, laughter, and bravery that balance the sadness and tragedy throughout this narrative. But make no mistake, the overall tone is powerful, heartbreaking, and bittersweet. Scenes of childbirth are heavy, while others are devastating and hard to watch. Ditto scenes of emotional intensity and grief, including a difficult but life-affirming reminder that “what is given may be taken away at anytime.” 

This film puts a new angle on Shakespeare’s play, including its famous “To be or not to be” monologue (which may be as profound as it’s ever been before), and what the titular figure and the ghost of his father represent. The very sight of the stage and theatre where the central performance takes place is haunting and ethereal. (Believe me, when it gets to this moment, you won’t be able to take your eyes off the screen.) It also culminates in how art can be used to express what people are going through, and how it can help them through, including working through grief, remembering those no longer here, and honoring their memories. Talk about a communal experience. Not to mention an amazing film achievement.