Chloé Zhao’s 'Hamnet' Wrestles with Grief and the Alchemy of Art

Chloé Zhao has cultivated a distinctive directorial voice defined by its ability to render the natural world with a transcendent, mystical quality. Whether capturing the rugged landscapes of The Rider, the contemplative wanderings of her Oscar-winning Nomadland, or even the cosmic scope of her Marvel entry, Eternals, her films consistently elevate the prosaic aspects of everyday life into something deeply profound.

This aesthetic sensibility is arguably the most compelling element of Hamnet, Zhao’s highly anticipated fifth feature. The film, a fictionalized account of William Shakespeare's and his wife Agnes's struggle following the devastating loss of their young son, has arrived with immense festival buzz, leaving critics and audiences emotionally overwhelmed and, frequently, in tears. The raw intensity of Jessie Buckley’s performance, in particular, has garnered widespread, effusive praise.

However, the film finds its greatest success not in the highly emotional plot points, but as a heightened sensory experience established early on. Zhao, collaborating with the renowned cinematographer Lukasz Zal (Cold War, Ida), composer Max Richter, and Oscar-winning sound designer Johnnie Burn (The Zone of Interest), immerses the audience in a richly textured, unsettling, and enveloping forest setting where the line between reality and the mystical is blurred.

We are quickly introduced to the notion that Agnes (Buckley) is the daughter of a forest witch, and her intrinsic connection to the earth, the sky, and the trees feels palpable. Her introduction—an overhead shot showing her curled in a red dress beneath a colossal tree—visually suggests that the woods around her are actively groaning and undulating. When Agnes meets the man known only as Will (Paul Mescal), who will eventually become the Bard, their connection is immediate and uninhibited. They frolic together joyfully, and the same qualities that lead others to view her as an outsider make her wonderful in his eyes. Their romance quickly leads to marriage, the birth of a daughter named Susanna (Bodhi Rae Breathnach), and then the arrival of twins: Hamnet (Jacobi Jupe) and Judith (Olivia Lynes).

The film effectively lulls the viewer into the rhythm of their domestic life as young parents—watching them play with their children, teaching them about the land, and squabbling over typical marital concerns—which proves more compelling than the tragedy known to be looming. Zhao, working from the novel by Maggie O’Farrell, further enriches this context with nuanced supporting turns from Emily Watson, playing Will’s mother, and Joe Alwyn, as Agnes’s brother. The narrative delicately suggests a fascinating, supernatural bond shared between the twins.

This domestic bliss is violently shattered by Hamnet’s shocking death at age 11. The subsequent depiction of grief, however, sacrifices nuance for histrionics. Buckley and Mescal portray their bottomless ache with a loud, shrill intensity, leading Zhao to linger uncomfortably in a style that feels voyeuristic. While the loss of a child is an unimaginable devastation, the overly demonstrative portrayal of this specific tragedy ultimately risks pulling the audience out of the moment.

Crucially, the entire premise of Hamnet centers on its connection to the play Hamlet; both the source novel and the film posit that Shakespeare processed his profound grief over his son’s death by writing his greatest tragedy. This connection is sometimes handled with heavy-handed obviousness, such as when Will delivers the iconic "To be, or not to be" soliloquy while standing at the river's edge.

Nevertheless, the film finds its most legitimate power in the staging of Hamlet at its climax, which serves as a potent argument for art as a means of healing and processing profound pain. Though this theme is explored with more understated, legitimate poignancy in another seasonal awards contender, Joachim Trier's Sentimental Value, Hamnet delivers individual moments of gripping tension during the performance. Agnes, perplexed and bereft, slowly begins to grasp the therapeutic meaning of the play unfolding before her.

The casting decision to use Noah Jupe (Jacobi Jupe’s older brother) as the actor playing Hamlet is a clever, spiritual touch. The choice subtly implies that the boy on the stage represents the man Hamnet might have become had he lived long enough to fulfill his mischievous childhood dream of acting. (Both Jupe brothers make a strong impression despite their limited screen time.) Finally, a pivotal overhead shot during the play is breathtaking, visually mirroring Agnes’s position in the forest at the film's start. This shot encapsulates the power of theatre as a living, breathing entity capable of shifting hearts and minds, proving that the sheer craft on display is sufficient to move an audience to tears.