"Watching how personal grief ripples outward — from the characters on stage to the audience within the film, and finally to us in the cinema — is what makes the entire experience so profoundly cathartic"

The movie adaptation of Maggie O’Farrell’s novel Hamnet is a study in all the different shades of grief.

The story is a fictionalised version of real events, but that doesn’t make it any less dramatic. Hamnet follows William Shakespeare (Paul Mescal) and his wife Agnes (Jessie Buckley), tracing their story from love at first sight against all odds, to their marriage and the birth of their three children.

Shakespeare eventually leaves for London, encouraged by Agnes to pursue his true vocation as an artist. 

When the plague strikes, Agnes, still in Stratford, does everything she can to save their daughter Judith (Olivia Lynes), who has always been frail since her difficult birth. But overnight, tragedy strikes: it is not Judith who dies, but her twin brother Hamnet (Jacobi Jupe). 

From this moment on, both Agnes and William must navigate their own grief over the loss of their only son, drifting apart and burdened by guilt.

Only a director like Chloé Zhao could have successfully brought such a majestic work to the screen, with the creative guidance of writer Maggie O’Farrell. Zhao marries her love for natural landscapes and her deep connection to the earth with a delicate way of portraying raw emotions. 

Hamnet is a film that can only be felt; it tells a story as old as time. Death and grief are emotions people often try to avoid, yet this film forces you to face them head-on and to feel every beat of them. Zhao’s gift lies in the subtlety of her camera — she allows her cast to lose themselves entirely in the story. Under her direction, they don’t simply play their roles; they become their characters and live their truths.

The film’s success would be impossible without its remarkable cast. Paul Mescal once again proves his strength in roles that demand emotional honesty. As William, he is introverted and contemplative — words come easily to him only when written. His love manifests through art and action alike. 

In the film, as in life, the play Hamlet is written in memory of his son, gone too soon — a destiny the playwright bestows upon his tragic hero. Through Shakespeare’s creative process, we witness a man using art to transform grief, giving his son the life of a prince he could never become.

While both Mescal and Jacobi Jupe (whose Hamnet is tender, intelligent, and self-sacrificing) deliver deeply moving performances, it is Jessie Buckley who ultimately steals the show. Her portrayal of Agnes is hypnotic and visceral. She is the heart of the film — her passion, her love for her family, her connection to the natural world all pulse through every fibre of her being. Her portrayal of maternal grief is extraordinary, authentic, and devastating.

What makes this film truly special is contained within its final ten minutes. When the first chords of On the Nature of Daylight by Max Richter begin, it is impossible not to feel a weight settle on your chest. 

Watching how personal grief ripples outward — from the characters on stage to the audience within the film, and finally to us in the cinema — is what makes the entire experience so profoundly cathartic. The ending doesn’t simply conclude the story; it transforms it into a shared act of mourning and love, one that lingers long after the credits roll.