Grief can shatter even the greatest minds, and in the film Hamnet, we witness how the loss of a child transforms William Shakespeare’s life—and ultimately inspires his masterpiece, Hamlet. But here’s where it gets controversial: Is it the pain of grief or the act of creation that truly sets him free? Let’s dive in.
Paul Mescal delivers a haunting performance as Shakespeare, a man grappling with loss while struggling to write. Early in the film, cinematographer Łukasz Żal and director Chloé Zhao masterfully highlight the stark contrast between Will and his wife, Agnes (Jessie Buckley). Agnes is portrayed as a free spirit, her scenes framed with openness and freedom, while Will is confined—both physically and mentally. Żal explains, ‘He’s stuck in his family house, a place of structure and routine, with small windows and a sense of suffocation.’ This visual duality sets the stage for their relationship, showing how their differences both unite and divide them.
And this is the part most people miss: The film’s cinematography doesn’t just tell a story—it makes you feel it. When Will and Agnes fall in love, the camera draws closer, the world feels vibrant, and their connection is palpable. But after their son Hamnet’s death, everything changes. The skies darken, the light fades, and their once-vibrant energy dissipates. ‘They’re alone in their frames,’ Żal notes, ‘no longer connected.’ The slow, almost uncomfortable pacing of the camera mirrors their emotional paralysis.
Costume designer Malgosia Turzanska adds another layer to Will’s journey through her meticulous designs. Inspired by sportswear, she pads his clothing as a form of protection, symbolizing his need to shield himself from his emotionally abusive father. A subtle yet powerful detail—slashes in his sleeves that grow larger over time—represents the deepening wounds of his trauma. Even his necklace, adorned with a toothpick, serves as a metaphor for his father’s constant criticism.
Here’s where it sparks debate: When Will travels to London to finish Hamlet, Turzanska dresses him in linen cloth and covers him in cracked clay to play the ghost. The clay, historically used to bury the dead, symbolizes his brokenness. But is this a portrayal of despair or a step toward healing? At the film’s end, Will washes off the clay, seemingly freeing himself. But is he truly healed, or is this just another layer of his grief?
Composer Max Richter’s score underscores this ambiguity. As Will sheds the clay, the music takes a dark turn, a ‘moonless night’ version of the choral cloud connected to Agnes and nature. Richter explains, ‘It’s super dark, almost like he’s breaking into pieces.’ This raises the question: Does creation heal, or does it merely expose the depths of our pain?
Mescal’s approach to the role adds another dimension. ‘I didn’t think about navigating it from love to grief,’ he says. ‘I saw it as analyzing someone’s life.’ His focus on showcasing the couple’s deep love makes their eventual separation all the more devastating. ‘The more the audience feels their connection,’ he adds, ‘the more they’ll feel the loss in the final act.’
Now, here’s the thought-provoking question: Is Hamnet a story of redemption through art, or a reminder that some wounds never fully heal? Let’s discuss in the comments—do you think Will’s journey ends in freedom, or is he forever haunted by his grief? Share your thoughts!
