Review: Chloé Zhao’s Hamnet Is A Lyrical Study Of An Artist's Grief And Genius

To say that a film set some 400 years ago leaves you on the edge of your seat might come as a surprise, but such is the case with Chloé Zhao’s Hamnet. Walking into the screening, of course, I knew what I signed up for — after all the director is known for her portrayal of soulful intimacy of the human experience, but boy was I unprepared.  

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Set in the world of the historical fiction novel, the plot seems simple at a glance, but takes you on a rollercoaster. Narrating the journey of the tortured artist, with the most famous playwright in the world as the protagonist, he’s played by the handsome Paul Mescal (another reason the film keeps you hooked, of course). It is not a tragedy, however, the fatal is expected at every turn — we root for Agnes, Shakespeare's wife, then William who goes by Will, then the kids, for their hopes and dreams and survival, and finally for what Will sets out to do with his play. 

Visually, this film checked all my boxes- beauty of the lush English countryside peppered with Tudor architecture, contrasted with the grittiness of the capital, the poetic composition in scenes like when Will negotiates with Agnes’ family, the muted colour grading with striking contrasts, all of it on point. This is not the kind of period drama you'd revisit by playing it in the background. Hamnet is no comfort film, I must warn- add to it the sublime costuming, my favourite being Agnes striking red dress, and you have a film where every second is as visually appealing to the eye as it is fatal to the heartstrings. 

An icing on the cake is the supernatural angle to the film, for which I was not prepared for — not since CS Lewis’s imagination has stories of the mystical made me tear up the way I did at scenes that paid homage to Agnes' beliefs of the world beyond us — and at the film’s portrayal of her mother. Agnes and William are both outcasts in their own right, Agnes, an esoteric forest lover, despised by the prudish village and William a scholar with not a lot in his wallet, whose potential suffers in the confines of a small town domestic setting- prompting him eventually to make the big move to the city. 

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Jessie Buckley plays the strong-headed yet pragmatic Agnes to perfection — her portrayal of grief is organic and gut-wrenchingly accurate, innately relatable to anyone who has experienced loss, while Mescal fleshes out the famed playwright well. The supporting cast definitely does their role well- the children are adorable of course, we can’t help but hate Will’s father, an ill mannered abusive man, have complicated feelings towards his seemingly apathetic mother who gets more dimensional as the film progresses, and fall for Agnes' stoic yet lovable brother played by Joe Alwyn. 

Another commendable aspect is the commentary on Agnes' bodily autonomy, as well as her medicinal prowess. She gives birth to her firstborn through her own technique, and the stark contrast of the second birth scene where she is forced to stay away from her beloved forest sends shivers down the spine.Childbirth is realistically portrayed in the film not just in screaming, but roaring, low and guttural. The moment of pure terror of twin childbirth, where Agnes has the primal urge to want her mother stuck with me.

The film also touches on the innate challenge of being creative, for it to feel so relevant in a historical fiction can be credited to Chloé Zhao’s ability to breathe a soul into her films. From Will’s mistreatment by his family, frustration in his creative block at the beginning of his career, to the age-old question poised throughout the film- how can an artist make art that brings tears as well as smiles, when they themselves are drowning in thick grief ? A recurring theme that ties the film together is the way it is portrayed. There is the loud grief, and the silent one- it comes in waves, it revisits, it haunts, it's messy and beautiful and expectedly unexpected. 

For a film about a dealer of words, Hamnet conveys so much with less, through touch, sound, vibrancy and lack thereof. The film score that boasts of Max Richter, the tune strikes a chord and ties it all together. It’s no surprise that Buckley, the star of the movie, had a say in the soundtrack — it all comes together in serene melancholy with a dash of joyful faith.