Directed By Chloe Zhao

Starring – Jessie Buckley, Paul Mescal, Jacobi Jupe

The Plot – This is the story of Agnes (Buckley) and William Shakespeare (Mescal). She is a healer, he is a writer. It is also the story of their children: Susanna (Bodhi Rae Breathnach), their firstborn, and their twins, Judith (Olivia Lynes) and Hamnet (Jupe). It’s also the story of their small village in 16th century England. More to the point, it’s a story of the lives, and especially the deaths from plague, in their times. The story is told from the viewpoint of Agnes, and therein lies its power.

Rated PG-13 for thematic content, some strong sexuality, and partial nudity.

HAMNET – Official Trailer [HD] – Only In Theaters This Thanksgiving

POSITIVES

On the surface, “Hamnet” might feel like a conventional biopic centering around one of literature’s most influential writers, but the reality is that Zhao has crafted something far more introspectively evocative in the relationship between humans and nature, supplanting an inevitable awards darling that has endless nominations written all over it. On a storytelling perspective, the film certainly concerns itself with the fuel to Shakespeare’s inspiration, taking audiences on a gut-wrenching journey of grief and remorse that devastates cripplingly within life’s many spontaneities, even if you already know the story of William’s rise to acclaim, but beyond that inscribes a therapeutically meditational ambiance within the depths of nature’s guiding hand, that conscientiously breathes so much energetic life, ominous death and patient observation to Chloe’s direction, helping it to transcend the stereotypical beats within a biopic, for a much more psychologically cerebral spin to such publicized figures. Zhao’s fearlessness to openly embrace something as paralyzing and debilitating as grief would typically feel like a wet blanket to the accessible integrity of her audience’s engagement, however she appraises the urgency of life with an absolving of time that not only transpires minutes and even years effortlessly in the duration of our journey, featuring a consistency towards pacing that never leaned heavily on my patience, but also steers these character’s vulnerabilities and tenderness in ways that never feel exploitative or manipulative to how they’re conjured, rendering a far more naturalistic essence of life that pays off incredibly with her patiently sedated brand of visual storytelling so mesmerizing that I found it difficult to even blink through. For a first time team-up of Zhao and cinematographer Lukasz Zal, there’s a sheer effortlessness of cohesion to the way its imagery and movements of the lens transpire an immersive appeal to much of the environmental impulses that the production leans so heavily on, featuring a rich versatility of still frames, long takes, and even methodically surveilling motions taking the focus of a scene slightly out of frame, in order to convey a restless uneasiness to what’s transpiring before us. While style certainly never oversteps its importance to the substance that can be found endlessly in these characters and their isolated observations, it’s nice to see that Zhao and Zal supplant something artistically indulgent that truly balances much of the atmospheric resonance of what transpires persistently to both the interpretation of the audience, and Agnes’ unshakeable bond to it, making nature feel like an intoxicating breath of fresh air throughout the times we’re able to evade the stuffily claustrophobic surroundings of this family’s shared household with disapproving kin sneering at their untraditional practices. The subtleties of score from Max Richter also go a long way at articulating such a gentle warmth and atmospheric integrity to the documentation of the imagery, with Richter’s themes working cohesively within the balance of wildlife sounds, all without ever overstepping boundaries in volume, to obscure the importance of such a distinguished setting from Agnes’ perspective. As for the dialogue, there was a preconceived fear that I had for this movie to revel in the same kind of Shakespearian speak that all of the movie adaptations based on his work seem to feature, and thankfully my fears never came to fruition, as Zhao and fellow screenwriter, Maggie O’Farrell, guide these characters with the kind of naturalistic conversations that make the developments and responses all the easier to follow, with nothing in the way of soliloquy’s or anaphora that would make such honest observations grate with unnecessary pretentiousness. Part of the reasoning certainly feels like a majority of the events in the film stemming from William and Agnes’ own real life, instead of the stage, but even my favorite scene of the film, near the movie’s ending, involves the Hamlet stage play coming to fruition with the same aforementioned style of dialogue, however it is dispersed at a time when the visuals matter so much more than what’s being spoken aloud, surmising the therapeutic power and universal language of the arts, at a time when the importance of cinema couldn’t feel any more urgent. Last but not least, plenty of praise should be paid to this ensemble’s decorated performances, the likes of which any of them are deserving of awards acclaim. The most obvious of these is certainly Jessie Buckley, whose palpable anger, depression, and even resentment to untimely loss can be felt in a physically wrenching and emotionally devastating turn, demanding darkly devastating explorations that the actress wholeheartedly embraces in the heartbreaking humanity of her portrayal, and in turn locking down this year’s Best Lead Actress trophy at the Academy Awards. Paul Mescal is also mesmerizing as William Shakespeare, particularly in the initial immaturity and eventual frailty that bleeds into the air of his arts. When you consider that this is a different Shakespeare than any other one ever put to film, specifically as the person he was before fame and notoriety took shape, you realize that the opportunity allows Mescal the freedom to revel in the uncontrolled emotionality that comes with responsibility in adulthood, and while he still faces stiff competition for an Oscar of his own, he at least earns his second nomination with a spellbinding debilitation that is the very best worker of the actor’s career. Not to be outdone by his adult peers, 12-year-old Jacobi Jupe also unloads a heavyweight performance as the titular character, bringing a desperately needed earnestness to the role in ways that surmise a shocking amount of maturity for such a young performer, without anything that felt cutesy or quirky in a precocious kind of way. Every year, it feels like there’s one child performance that steps above the rest, and Jupe feels like this year’s winner, bringing such commanding tenderness and vulnerability to a role that does plenty of difficult heavy lifting, and in turn supplanting thousands of emotionally penetrating needles that inspired buckets of tears to my own personal experience with the film.

NEGATIVES

It feels nitpicky to even mention my scattered flaws in a film this nearly perfect, however there were some legitimate drawbacks in the script that I wish were smoothed over with another rewrite, particularly some foundation-building elements that stood out like a sore thumb, when compared to everything else surrounding them firing on all cylinders. For starters, the blossoming relationship between William and Agnes does admittedly feel a little rushed during the initial opening act, possibly as a result of the aforementioned absolution of time that inspires so much of Zhao’s direction. Why I think it’s crucially costly here is because their abrupt connection to one another, on the very day they meet, feels like lust over love, making it difficult to properly register what they each see in one another, as a result of a lack of time to grow alongside them, and while I understand that the manifestation of this relationship is simply just a cog to the bigger wheel that is constantly spinning this picture, it does feel like they’re thrown together quite abruptly, despite some initial hesitation from Agnes, taking a bit longer than I would’ve preferred to summon the incredible levels of chemistry that permeate between Buckley and Mescal so effortlessly. In addition to this, my only other problem with the script and overall film stemmed from some imbalanced decisions of focus paid to Agnes and William during the second act, specifically the minimalized opportunities that it takes in focusing on the latter’s isolation away from his family, once he seeks bigger opportunities for his writing. I don’t want to say that the movie isn’t exactly interested in his grief, as that’s kind of debunked by the film’s end, but it certainly doesn’t value his perspective as much as wife’s, and considering the creative process plays such a vital role to the movie’s material, specifically what fuels artist inspiration, it’s a little shocking that more scenes aren’t paid to the struggle of the process, making me wish that the production pushed for even ten additional minutes to the runtime, in order to flesh out such a vital perspective.

OVERALL
“Hamnet” is a mournfully devastating and meticulously crafted catharsis on nature, grief, and the irreplaceable value of the arts, but also a magnum opus for Chloe Zhao, who renders a masterful touch by remaining true to the meditatively sedated brand of filmmaking that brought her to the dance in the first place. With spellbinding career-best turns from Jessie Buckley and Paul Mescal, as well as scene-stretching detail paid to its collectively immersive production values, the film is a raw recipe for emotionality that pays off in a lake of tears, supplanting a profoundly poetic portrait of reconciliation that destroys you in the best ways imaginable.

My Grade: 9.5 or A