Hamnet

Director: Chloé Zhao
Starring: Jessie Buckley, Paul Mescal, Emily Watson, Joe Alwyn, Jacobi Jupe, Olivia Lynes, Justine Mitchell, David Wilmot, Bodhi Rae Breathnach, Freya Hannan-Mills, James Skinner, Elliot Baxter, Dainton Anderson, Louisa Harland, Noah Jupe
Running Time: 126 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★) 

Those going into Chloé Zhao's Hamnet have already been warned to prepare themselves for the film's defining event, but it's really the painfully raw, unforgiving aftermath that makes this such an affecting watch. Far from a William Shakespeare biopic, the legendary dramatist's professional reputation is rarely addressed, nor is he even necessarily the main protagonist of a movie centered around a pivotal point in his life. Instead, he's seen through the eyes of wife Agnes, who recognizes him as a husband and father rather than the playwright he's toiling away to become. 

While much of what Zhao and co-writer/author Maggie O' Farrell covers is almost entirely speculative, it's rooted in a slice of forgotten, barely acknowledged history still completely unfamiliar to most. And that's why what occurs over the course of these absorbing two hours seems so shocking, as if we've entered territory we're not quite ready for, regardless of any foreshadowing. And though we've seen numerous interpretations of Shakespeare's Hamlet, this hinges on a larger story about love and loss filtered through an absorbing hypothetical about the play's creation.  

It's 16th century England and struggling writer William Shakespeare (Paul Mescal) is working as a Latin tutor when he's immediately smitten with falconer Agnes (Jessie Buckley). Despite strong objections from his mother Mary (Emily Watson) who believes her to be the daughter of a forest witch, Agnes becomes pregnant with their first child, Susanna. But after Agnes is disowned by stepmother Joan (Justine Mitchell), and moves in with Will's family, her brother Bartholomew (Joe Alwyn) arranges for Will to join a London theater company as she gives birth to twins.     

11 years pass, and while Will's career flourishes and frequently keeps him away from their Stratford-Upon-Avon home, twins Hamnet (Jacobi Jupe) and Judith (Olivia Lynes) are inseparable. But when the bubonic plague claims their only son, Agnes and Will's marriage deteriorates, with her resenting Will's extended absences as he continues to withdraw, immersing himself in his latest production. What she doesn't know is how he's been channeling this unimaginable anguish into what soon emerges as his most revered tragedy. 

The film begins with a title card stating how the names "Hamnet" and "Hamlet" are considered one in the same, giving us a clear indicator of the connection between Will's son and the play. There's also some misdirection happening in the first act, where viewers are privy to the fact that a death looms, with all signs pointing to their youngest, most vulnerable daughter Judith rather than her brother. That O' Farrell's novel and script creates this imaginary scenario loosely based on historical events blurs the line between fact and fiction, teasing catastrophe until the actual one arrives, shaking the foundation of a marriage that's already overcome considerable odds. 

Agnes and Will's unconventional pairing is so soundly rejected by their respective families that this Shakespearean origin story might share more similarities with the Bard's even more ubiquitous work about forbidden, star-crossed lovers than Hamlet. And while the ethereal forest scenes are gorgeously shot by cinematographer Łukasz Żal, they're juxtaposed against the pull of a dark, mysterious cave that portends impending doom. 

Lowly tutor Will's family begrudgingly accepts Agnes when her own stepmother doesn't, continuing a trend of abandonment that began after watching her biological mother die during childbirth as a little girl. This trauma manifests itself again with daughter Judith, the twin she most fears for, starting from her stillborn birth to when she later falls ill. But it's Hamnet's unbreakable loyalty to his sister that leads him to "take her place" in the film's most gut-wrenching section. It's also a frightening look at the absence of any effective medical treatment in the 16th century, where survival chances are comparable to a game of Russian roulette. 

In the wake of this horrific loss, Will's physical and emotional distance sends Agnes off the deep end, as does the notion he'd invoke their late son's name in his fictionalized play, seeming to only compound her suffering. But what Zhao does here is amazing since Hamlet actually has little, if anything, to do with Hamnet's death, yet still feels entirely about it in small, subtle ways only Agnes and Will would sense. As a result, watching her see it becomes just as hypnotizing as what's happening on stage. 

Mescal's complex, tormented turn, sheds light on Will's early frustration at being trapped in a job that suppresses creative ambitions his family can't possibly comprehend. He succeeds in getting out from under his father's thumb, but once tragedy strikes, the actor shows us a man incapable of externally expressing the guilt and sorrow that's broken him, instead directing it toward the only thing he knows. 

Buckley is a revelation as earthy healer Agnes, who basks in the joy of marriage and motherhood before circumstances intervene, sending her into a wild, inconsolable rage. Sharing an effortlessly natural chemistry with Mescal, she's called upon to ride a rollercoaster of highs and lows, right up until her character's heartbreaking catharsis in the film's final moments.Young Jacobi Jupe also leaves a lasting impression as the doomed Hamnet while his real life older brother Noah Jupe's portrayal of the actor playing Hamlet works as a projected image of Agnes's own son.  

Powered by two devastating performances, the film continuously builds momentum until we're given a rare glimmer of hope, if not the chance for this couple to somehow move forward. And while we've already seen numerous interpretations of Hamlet on stage and screen, it's never come with the benefit of speculating how or why it was conceived. Now viewed through an entirely different lens, audiences experience two overlapping tragedies, culminating in a drama that speaks to the endlessly complex relationship between grief and art.