At the Toronto International Film Festival premiere of Hamnet, director and co-writer Chloe Zhao had an unorthodox approach to introducing her film.
She led the audience in a meditation, something she said they often did during production on set as a reminder of how special it was to be in that space with each other.
She invited the audience to look around theatre, and then at the people next to them, in front of them, and behind them. Then she asked them to put their hands on the centre of their chest, close their eyes, let the weight of their body become a little heavier, feel the ground beneath them and then take three deep breaths, sighing out loud with each exhale, and to feel the vibrations.
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It might sound a little woo-woo and earnest, and you might be tempted to roll your eyes and dismiss it as Hollywood being indulgent and weird. But, you know what? After you see Hamnet, it makes sense.
The film has that same spirit of being open and vulnerable to emotional honesty, and it too is asking you to give yourself over to its story about joy and beauty, and grief and loss.
Jessie Buckley is the Oscar frontrunner for best actress for her role in Hamnet. Credit: Agata Grzybowska/Focus Features
If you’re willing to be part of that, the raw power of Hamnet will unlock something, and don’t be surprised if you find yourself one of many in the cinema, trying to choke back heaving sobs.
You know that moment when you hear people trying to keep themselves to a quiet, dignified cry when all they want to do is let go, and it’s a symphony of the throat swallows, snotty sniffles and half-sighs of people desperately trying to hold it together and not break down in public.
Zhao would probably encourage you to just give in, because Hamnet is all about feeling the enormity of big emotions.
Oscar-winning director Zhao wrote the screenplay with Maggie O’Farrell, the author of the best-selling novel on which it was based, and it tells the fictionalised story of Agnes, the wife of William Shakespeare who is also historically known as Anne Hathaway.
Despite her husband’s fame over centuries, we don’t know much about the real-life Agnes – she didn’t move to London, she had three children and when Shakespeare died, he left to her in his will his “second best bed”.
What we do know is that their son, Hamnet, died when he was 11 years old, and four years later, Shakespeare wrote Hamlet, the tragic tale of a doomed Danish prince.
Paul Mescal as Will. Credit: Focus Features
Hamnet is, in a way, a reclamation of the story of this woman who was married to the world’s most renowned storyteller, but whose own history beyond simple facts has vanished from the record.
Agnes was more than the places and dates of her birth, marriage and death.
Through Zhao’s film and Jessie Buckley’s power-punch performance, Agnes has an internal life, relationships, love and pain.
Agnes and Will (Paul Mescal) when he becomes a tutor to her younger half-brothers, paying off his father’s debt. The village views her as kind of witchy, spending her time in the forest with her hawk, lying in its earth, and feeling connected to something bigger than herself.
Over time, Will’s writing career in London flourishes and Agnes stays in Stratford, where she cares for their three children, daughter Susanna and twins Hamnet and Judith.
Jacobi Jupe as Hamnet, Bodhi Rae Breathnach as Susanna and Olivia Lynes as Judith in Hamnet. Credit: Agata Grzybowska/Focus Features
Buckey’s performance is so potent and affecting, as you see the complex textures of happiness and contentment, and the aching heartbreak of grief. It’s a bravado portrayal, a synchronous collaboration between actor and director.
The supporting roles – Mescal, Emily Watson’s Mary Shakespeare, Joe Alwyn’s Bartholomew Hathaway and young Jacobi Jupe, who plays Hamnet – are all also wonderfully acted.
But it’s not just the performances, it’s also the production design, Max Richter’s score and, most significantly, Zhao’s seemingly effortless command of tone, capturing a balance of intimacy and grandness, without veering into mawkishness.
At the risk of seeming woo-woo, Hamnet does hold you in a metaphorical embrace, one which gives you permission to feel connected to emotions the rest of the world tells you to push down.
Not a lot of films actually make you really feel things beyond mild amusement, but this one does.
A fully realised character portrait of womanhood, motherhood and personhood, Hamnet is a beautiful, transportive film.
Hamnet is in cinemas on January 15
