Why you should watch Hamnet

A lesson in the timeless need for human connection

I hadn’t intended for these articles to include film reviews, but this film hit me hard, so I’m making an exception. It’s not really a review anyway, more a “how It made me feel”. That feeling was one unexpectedly relevant to the world we’re living in now, despite being wrapped in a story more than 400 years old. Having said that, whilst reading Seneca a couple of years ago I was struck by how similar everyday situations and concerns were in Roman times to our own, and so it shouldn’t have been a surprise.

Hamnet—the name of Shakespeare’s and his wife Anne/Agnes Hathaway’s son—is thought to be the inspiration for the title of Shakespeare’s most famous and powerful play, Hamlet.

At its heart, the film deals with loss: the devastation it brings, and the ways we learn to endure it and carry on.

The performances are extraordinary, from the child actors to the remarkable Jessie Buckley and Paul Mescal. And while there is, of course, a strong connection to Shakespeare, you don’t need to be a devotee to appreciate the film. Its focus on his wife, Agnes, only strengthens this, offering a perspective that feels both fresh and powerful.

I think there’s a growing sense that what is meant to connect us in modern life can sometimes do the opposite. Without consciously thinking it at the time, the film seemed to quietly affirm the importance of human connection, and I suspect the director, Chloe Zhau, was well aware of this during the filming process. I believe this is why the film strongly resonated with me, and why I felt there was some kind of link to my music and writing about this time that we’re all living through. Certain paths of innovation, however well-intentioned, can erode things that are fundamental to us.

The power and beauty throughout are spellbinding. Still, it’s the climax that lingers most, culminating in a final scene that is nothing short of breathtaking.

I won’t describe that final moment, except to say that the director’s approach to conveying loss and deep human connection is so profound it’s impossible not to be moved. I would dare say that only a psychopath wouldn’t feel a tear welling up. I can’t recall another moment in film that has affected me as strongly. Even weeks later, simply thinking about it makes the hairs on my arms stand on end.

This is a film that deserves to be seen in the cinema, not only to fully immerse yourself in its beauty and darkness, but because the shared environment only deepens the experience and augments its emotional power.

An amplification that perhaps can only be achieved through shared presence. In that sense, it reminds me of live music at its best: performer, audience, and environment feeding off one another to create something greater, almost magical.

So what did I take from it?
That love, loss, and grief are timeless, inseparable from our need for connection and hope, and perhaps what make them stronger.