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.                                

Nomadland

Director: Chloé Zhao
Starring: Frances McDormand, David Strathairn, Linda May, Charlene Swankie, Bob Wells, Derek Endres, Peter Spears, Tay Strathairn
Running Time: 108 min.
Rating: R 

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

Chloé Zhao's Nomadland resides somewhere between a true life documentary, Into The Wild and About Schmidt while somehow not feeling like any mainstream feature at all. Some will be gutted and transfixed by the painfully realistic and depressing picture it paints of the displacement of older people in rural America, even as others tire of its non-linear narrative and lack of resolution. Place me in the former camp. Meandering, but in the best possible way, it kind of ambles along plotlessly in the vein of its protagonist, so effortlessly absorbing in its matter-of-fact storytelling that it's of little surprise Zhao adapted it from a non-fiction book (Nomadland: Surviving America in the Twenty-First Century, by Jessica Bruder).

With a cast full of untrained actors and hardly a traditional beginning, middle or end to speak of, there's something wonderfully straightforward about just observing this woman and the challenges she faces without any editorializing or cloying attempts at wringing sympathy. She is who she is, and two-time Oscar winner Frances McDormand's face does all the work in conveying her experiences and what could possibly follow. The latter is tricky since most of time she doesn't know, and seems remarkably okay with that, if even occasionally proud. Of course, she's not okay and has been through a lot, making McDormand's naturalistic performance the movie's not so secret weapon, as she skillfully navigates what could have easily come off as a pity party in less capable hands.

Simultaneously a tribute to human endurance and the perseverance of strangers, the story's harsher realities are never ignored. Many lifelines are thrown this woman's way but she doesn't take them, perhaps partially out of stubbornness, but mainly because she values the independence of carving her own path. Beautifully photographed and edited, it's like watching life unfold in real time, with its sparse plot strangely increasing its staying power and our desire to eventually return for more viewings, in hopes we can continue peeling back the layers of its incredibly relatable characters. 

It's 2011 and Fern (McDormand) loses her job at the USG Corporation plant in Empire, Nevada when it shuts down, causing her to sell most of her belongings and hit the road in a van. Still mourning her husband's recent death, she lives out of her vehicle traveling and looking for a job when she finds seasonal employment at an Amazon fulfillment center. While there, friend and co-worker, Linda (Linda May) recommends she look into a desert community in Arizona run by vandweller Bob Wells (YouTuber Bob Wells, playing a version of himself). 

After initially dismissing Linda's idea, Fern changes her mind and ventures out to the community, learning crucial survival skills for the road while meeting other nomads, such as the ailing but feisty Swankie (Charlene Swankie) and David (David Strathairn), with whom she strikes up a close friendship. Fern's stay, much like everything else in her life right now, is temporary, before heading off for a new adventure. She'll encounter David again, but his somewhat strained relationship with son Peter (Peter Spears) unexpectedly prompts some self-reflection of her own. Torn between further asserting her independence or potentially putting down roots in a more traditional sense, she finds herself at a literal crossroads, open to wherever the journey takes her next.

There's an awkward but moving early scene when Fern is approached in a store by a woman and her teen daughter she once tutored. Having heard Fern's living out of a van, the mother offers to let her stay at their place, even as we know there's no chance she'd ever accept. Her pride simply won't allow it. And then comes that word. "Homeless." Just hearing it stings, as she's quick to point out that she's "house-less," which sums up the situation of the various nomads we meet over the course of the film, older people who by choice or circumstance have found themselves on society's financial outs. The shutdown of Fern's plant has economically decimated her the town and its residents, and now, without a livable government pension and limited work options for someone her age, Bob Wells' roaming lifestyle looks superior to most alternatives.

Traveling from town to town in a van while taking one low-paying job after the next, we realize the true desperation of her predicament. It's easy to be lulled into viewing this as an entirely inspirational tale since Fern is such a headstrong, determined woman whom McDormand imbues with a level-headed optimism and toughness. But this isn't okay. There's a lot she doesn't know, and while the support system of fellow nomads provide valuable guidance, she's always half a step away from disaster, as are  many others who adopted nomadic life. A flat tire or any vehicular maintenance issue isn't a day at the beach for anyone, but it's especially catastrophic when every penny counts like this.

The authentic bonds Fern forms with Linda, Bob, Swankie and David are transient ones, both because of the nature of their lifestyles (as Bob says, it's "see you down the road" rather than goodbye) and her inability to let people in following her husband's passing. A fledgling romance with David seems destined to go nowhere as discomfort radiates through every interaction she has, closing her off from the rest of the world. There comes a point in the film where she has a shot at settling down into a comfortable existence and it's clear she just can't do it, no matter how welcoming the invite or warmth of hospitality. 

When Fern's life with her husband ended, so did she in a sense. The last act doesn't doesn't offer much in the way of closure, as it shouldn't for this character. It's a story still very much being written and far from completely resolved, following a cyclical pattern that keeps drawing Fern back to the road. While it's open for interpretation whether her decision to continue living like this is cause for celebration, what's harder is offering up another ending that would ring as true. Still, it's impossible to not see the bigger picture here in that many of these nomads have been unnecessarily relegated to the fringes for circumstances far beyond their control.  

Zhao, who previously directed 2018's highly acclaimed The Rider, emerges as the ideal fit for a specific type of project that could have turned out a myriad of different ways depending on who was behind the camera. A similarly themed entry in this sub-genre released that same year, Ani Simon-Kennedy's overlooked The Short History of the Long Road, covered a lot of intersecting ground, with a far younger character also learning tough lessons in self-sufficiency after tragedy strikes. Ironically, that effort, with which this would make a compelling double feature, ends in much the same way Nomadland begins, and also ends. Road movies seem to feature protagonists running from something, only to find themselves right back where they started, hopefully transformed and bettered from the experience. We're not sure Fern is, but the film finds serenity in the fact that she'll always be in the driver's seat.