Hamnet Review: The Acclaimed Shakespeare Biopic Delivers Emotional Punch but Feels Overly Sentimental
This poignant drama about the Bard's family life, led by Paul Mescal and Jessie Buckley, packs an emotional wallop under Chloé Zhao's direction – yet it veers into heavy-handed territory, pulling at the heartstrings with calculated precision.
It's easy to see why Hamnet is poised to dominate end-of-year accolades. Riding a tide of glowing praise, this adaptation is destined for "top films of 2025" lists and a flurry of Oscar nominations. And honestly, who could be shocked?
Drawing from Maggie O'Farrell's lyrical bestseller – a modern literary gem – the movie benefits from the vision of director and co-writer Chloé Zhao (teaming up with O'Farrell on the script), fresh off her triumphant Nomadland. Up front, it stars two of Ireland's brightest talents: the captivating Jessie Buckley and Paul Mescal. Oh, and let's not forget the involvement of none other than William Shakespeare himself. The story's hook imagines how the heartbreaking loss of the playwright's young son, Hamnet, sparked the birth of his immortal tragedy, Hamlet. As a title card notes at the start, in 16th-century England, "Hamnet" and "Hamlet" were essentially the same name.
But does the film match the hype of its powerhouse team? That's the real intrigue. While it's already enchanted plenty of audiences, Zhao and O'Farrell have pared down so much of the book's enchanting essence – its nonlinear timeline, mesmerizing language, introspective voices, and vivid sensory touches – that the result feels like just another polished period piece, heavy on atmosphere but light on true depth.
Right from the jump, it's obvious Hamnet won't pull punches on subtlety.
The setup echoes Shakespeare in Love vibes from the '90s. Buckley embodies Agnes (better known to history as Anne Hathaway), a spirited farmer's girl whispered to be a woodland enchantress – a label she leans into, foraging for healing plants and tending her falcon amid the trees. To drive home her earthy mysticism, we get that now-iconic upward gaze through whispering leaves to the heavens. Mescal, meanwhile, is Will, the aspiring scribe and tutor holed up in a garret, feverishly penning early lines of Romeo and Juliet.
Buckley's take on Agnes is pure Buckley: a bold, grounded firebrand who cuts through pretense like a knife. Will, ever the anxious dreamer, falls hard and blurts out a hand-fasting proposal. Their courtship blooms into a tender idyll, though it strains credulity at times. The young family – with daughter Susanna and the mirror-image twins Hamnet (Jacobi Jupe) and Judith (Olivia Lynes) – basks in a fairy-tale glow amid Stratford's quaint lanes. (It's a narrative stretch that the twins are portrayed as doppelgangers, especially since the young actors don't quite match.) The town itself seems oddly sparse, conversations laced with overt Shakespearean Easter eggs and spelled-out backstories that locals would never need. Will's domineering dad dismisses him as a failure – twice, no less – culminating in a heated clash where Will pins him against the wall, channeling Mescal's intense energy from Normal People.
Sure, period dramas often lean on these tropes, but they grate extra hard in a Zhao joint. Skip her superhero detour in Eternals; her gems Nomadland and The Rider hypnotized through sheer realism, like peeking into unscripted lives. Hamnet, with its amplified acting, deliberate nods, and brooding gravity, lands closer to those glossy rock-star biopics where characters stroll iconic spots while dropping song-title hints.
So what explains the film's grip on so many viewers? Bluntly, it goes for the jugular on emotion. Will's creative drought erupts in midnight rages, fists pounding desks – prime Oscar bait for Mescal. As plague ravages Judith and then Hamnet, Agnes unleashes guttural wails that scream Buckley-for-Best-Actress. These moments hit hard; who wouldn't ache at a child's torment and a parent's primal anguish? Yet, since we all grasp the raw devastation of losing a kid, they play more as emotional ambush than fresh revelation.
The manipulation ramps up post-tragedy, as Agnes attends Hamlet's premiere at the Globe. Will weeps through his soliloquies, the crowd falls into trance-like silence, and Max Richter's haunting On the Nature of Daylight (that go-to for tearjerkers like Arrival) swells endlessly. If the setup has you hooked, this climax might drown you in sobs. But the overt orchestration risks evoking Macbeth's verdict on empty bluster: all noise, no substance.
Skeptics will also question the core thesis – that Hamnet's passing directly birthed Hamlet. It's a compelling theory, given the play's obsessions with mourning and paternal bonds, but Zhao fumbles deeper ties. One "link" is the stage's verdant forest backdrop, nodding to Will and Agnes's meet-cute woods – except Hamlet unfolds in Denmark's halls, not arboreal wilds. Another? Backyard fencing lessons echo the play's duels, tugging nostalgia since we just watched them. Touching? Sure. Illuminating art's alchemy from lived pain? Debatable – or just a sly grief trigger?
As the performance grips her, Agnes wonders aloud: "How does this connect to our boy?" O'Farrell's book probes that richly; the film, alas, skimps on the nuance.