TIFF 2025: ‘Hamnet’ Review

If there was any concern that Chloé Zhao may have lost her way after transitioning from the subdued scale of Nomadland to entering the Marvel machine and delivering a superhero epic in Eternals, Hamnet confirms that she’s come out the other side a stronger filmmaker than ever before. A tender meditation on grief and loss, Zhao’s latest work navigates unspeakable pain, offering a raw portrait of a family torn asunder by unimaginable suffering and the immense love that can both heal and destroy us. Vulnerable performances from its two leads, Paul Mescal and Jessie Buckley, translate a family’s anguish into an incredibly moving and heartbreaking reflection on the pain we carry into our lives and our art—and how that pain transforms the nature of everything.

That family’s patriarch happens to be the most renowned playwright of all time, William Shakespeare (Mescal), but through a focus on his wife, Agnes (Buckley), the film resonates without the grandeur or spectacle that a Shakespeare-related project might warrant. Co-written by Zhao and Maggie O’Farrell, whose book of the same name serves as the source material for Hamnet, the screenplay for Zhao’s latest unsurprisingly allows for its actors and crew to find each scene’s emotion within the moment. Our introduction to Agnes takes place in the woods as she awakes from a fetal position and dons a glove for falconry. Meanwhile, William tutors Latin to the young boys nearby as a means of helping to pay his father’s debts. When the two star-crossed lovers first meet, it’s playful but powerful. Agnes has confused many of the locals with her demeanour, and it’s believed that she is the child of a forest witch. However, to William, she becomes a curiosity he can’t quite put into words. Their relationship quickly blossoms into something beautiful, and they have their first child, Susanna.

Agnes and William’s life becomes slightly more complicated once William’s potential as an artist begins to feel stifled by the distance from any central creative hub. It leads to him leaving for London and returning home occasionally between writing plays. Hamnet cleverly posits how many of Shakespeare’s plays were born out of moments in his life, as we see him recite passages from ‘Romeo & Juliet’ and ‘Macbeth’. However, as the film’s title suggests, his greatest tragedy is waiting in the wings, and those brief references to his other works are merely stepping stones to understanding how the bard might have eventually created something so haunting and prolific as ‘Hamlet’. The inference is speculative, but it becomes wholly believable throughout the film. The difficult birth of twins Judith and Hamnet, a girl and a boy, brings a foreboding sense of dread to the tone of the film, and in every action Agnes makes as she dreams of how many souls would be beside her deathbed.

As William works on his masterpiece in the background of Zhao and O’Farrell’s screenplay, Agnes remains at home raising their three children with the help of William’s mother (Emily Watson). “We must never let our guard down”, remarks William’s mother, and this statement from a fellow matriarch informs much of Buckley’s performance. Steely in her resolve to care for her children and filled with love to give, Agnes is burdened by the gnawing idea that one of her children could pass at any point. The traumatic birth of the twins leaves her fixated on whether death is simply biding its time before coming again. The isolation of their estate and being cooped up with a mother-in-law who has been disapproving of her son’s relationship with Agnes since the beginning doesn’t help alleviate that suffocation. Once the film fully leans into its unfortunate circumstance, which drives a further wedge between William and Agnes, Hamnet has already spent its audience in tears—more than most films can elicit—all while being gently coerced by another triumphant score from Max Richter.

Where Hamnet defines itself as more than just misery porn is in its final act, where everything comes together, and the question of how one can carry on with such a traumatic incident looming over them feels completely answered. There’s an understandable aversion to movies that feel like they might hit too close to home or contend with some emotional history that a viewer may not want to be reminded of. However, Hamnet finds a way to confront those tragic moments head-on while still providing some sense of catharsis. The film’s climax is an ending that feels inevitable as it gives audiences and the characters a window into William’s grief while remaining in conversation with his wife. It’s a sequence that initially feels too indulgent, but comes back around to providing the warmth and comfort that the film so desperately requires after bearing its pain so forthrightly.

There’s a healing quality to Zhao’s massive purpose-built replica of the Globe Theatre and the way Shakespeare’s plays weave into the narrative. Seated in a cinema, witnessing Hamnet finally revel in some grandiose theatrics—complete with an audience on-screen and surrounding myself—it served as a reminder of why the performing arts can be therapeutic for everyone involved. Someone’s grief being spilled onto the page, and then having someone else convey those emotions in front of you, could devolve into a game of telephone where the emotions get lost somewhere along the way. However, it becomes clear through Buckley’s quietly engaged stares and Mescal’s trembling recitations of his character’s own words that something is gained through the channelling of William’s grief into art. It’s not just meant to mirror one’s pain; it’s a means of working through it and finding a way to cope that works for the individual.

This is all to say almost nothing of how Zhao’s grounded naturalism allows the audience to enter these characters at their most vulnerable. The intense close-ups and dimly lit rooms magnify the claustrophobic nature of Agnes’s surroundings, while also accentuating the fear that dictates her every action. Łukasz Żal makes these moments ache, but the gorgeous cinematography also captures Agnes nestled within nature, showing that he is just as attuned to her warmth as he is to the pain. Buckley is staggering in the role, and Żal captures it all with an intensity that heightens every moment to a perfect pitch of sincere emotion. Buckley’s smile warms the entire frame just as strongly as her anguish saddens it. Richter’s aforementioned score adds a sombre layer to the film’s overwhelming darkness—including the always potent inclusion of “On the Nature of Daylight”, in case you haven’t shed a tear by that point—and Mescal’s portrayal of Shakespeare from an ambitious, lovestruck writer to someone whose work is gradually upended and turned tragic continues to solidify the young actor as a singular talent. The immediately palpable chemistry between Mescal and Buckley provides a framework for Zhao to mine darker emotions out of each scene without sacrificing the understanding that William and Agnes truly love each other.

I imagine myself to be an easy mark for movies like Hamnet—having recently become a father—and it’s why I tend to be like others, avoiding the potential heartache that films like Zhao’s latest evoke. However, it also felt like I wasn’t just watching the journey of two parents forced to reckon with a heartwrenching tragedy, but also being invited to experience and heal alongside them. The film itself feels like it’s opening up to the audience, thanks to its vulnerable performances and immersive presentation. Zhao’s films have often felt like a balm for the soul, and Hamnet is no different. While challenging to approach due to its subject matter, Hamnet offers the kind of therapeutic quality that art with difficult subject matter should always strive to achieve. Unsurprisingly, Zhao can breathe empathy into a film, but what stands out is the catharsis it finds underneath its overbearing cloud of darkness.

The 50th Toronto International Film Festival takes place between September 4th and 14th. Hamnet celebrated its Canadian premiere on September 7th, as part of TIFF’s Gala Presentations program. The full list of films selected for the festival can be found here.

Next
Next

TIFF 2025: ‘Frankenstein’ Review