The luminous purple slushie I had bought to accompany me at Peckhamplex began to feel slightly inappropriate as the entire audience watching Chloe Zhao’s Hamnet erupted into guttural sobs. The film is undoubtedly the most visceral yet tender depiction of grief I have seen in cinema in recent memory; an adaptation of Maggie O’Farrell’s 2020 novel. It follows a young William Shakespeare (Paul Mescal) as he falls in love with Agnes Hathaway (Jessie Buckley) and they build a life together.
Jessie Buckley took home the Critic’s Choice for best actress; her acceptance speech drawing upon metaphors of the first humans that left their mark in the depths of caves. Her character is intertwined with the mystique of the forest. We see both life and death through Agnes amongst the trees. The hawk that beheld her and William’s first encounter is laid to rest in the same spot she gives birth to their first child, Susanna. Shots linger repeatedly on a dark hole, perhaps a nod to the underworld.
It was refreshing to see Mescal play a new character, his roles in Normal People and Aftersun have heralded him champion subdued sad-boy. Shakespeare’s part offered him something slightly more punchy. I found myself resenting him as he drunkenly shouted at a post-partum Agnes. He is uncompromising and selfish, away from his family when they need him the most, creating art born of feelings he is not entirely present for. Reminded yet again of the perils of being involved romantically with male tortured artists, a phenomenon that certainly prevails contemporarily. Overambitious, selfish men seem to be a prominent theme in film as of late, cough Marty Supreme cough Frankenstein… Yet we, alongside Agnes, are charmed. Mescal is excitable and passionate, and he, unlike the rest of the village, truly sees Agnes.
The child actors were absolutely stellar. Hamnet himself, played by Jacobi Jupe, is perfect. His cherub-like facial expressions drew me in immediately. You really believe in the bond between him and his twin, Judith. Heartbreakingly, he offers his life for hers, trying his hardest to be brave, just as his father told him. I will admit his performance left me wondering, how on earth are they getting these children to cry so perfectly on cue?
The film’s beating heart is best illustrated through its closing sequence. The sea of hands reaching towards the stage render a Renaissance-like painting. To me, the play scenes truly underscore the very essence of cinema. Through my tears, I saw my fellow cinema-goers reflected back at us. Two audiences looking at one another. A body and soul heaving as one, bound by our shared experiences of love and grief, stretching out for understanding. Is this not all we can hope for in a film? Something to make sense of a facet of the shared human experience.
Image Credits – the Movie DB
