At the heart of Hamnet is a thriving desire to understand the unknown. Through artistic displays and connections with nature, we keep gravitating closer to something primal, hoping we’ll have an epiphany about what life means and where we go after this existence. This deeper questioning is showcased in the grief of Agnes and William Shakespeare, and in their daring to look beyond our mortality in this stirring dose of historical drama.

Jessie Buckley beautifully portrays Agnes as a fragile yet conflicted soul, intrigued by nature and driven by love. She gravitates towards William (Paul Mescal), a tutor with aspirations for something bigger in life. Although they marry in an ideal country setting, it’s not the best place for a playwright to draw a crowd. The relationship strains as William buries himself deeper into his work abroad, while Agnes tends to their many children. Several emotions swirled within her during the birth of her twins, Hamnet and Judith, where it looked as though Judith almost didn’t make it. With two daughters to teach, Hamnet receives some fight choreography from his father for the few times he is present at home. The family appears loving and devoted, and they connect best in the woods, finding a way to pay tribute to life and death in a manner that feels spiritually attuned.

Then, tragedy strikes with the death of Hamnet, made all the more dire with his apparent sacrifice of enduring an illness from his sister, believing he tricked the Grim Reaper by being the other twin. There’s great sadness in the house, but also a curiosity about death, imagined as a journey through the woods and towards doors to unknown destinations. Agnes and William grieve in their own ways, their rocky marriage growing even fragile. But then comes the revelation of Will’s play, Hamlet, performed as the ultimate tribute to Hamnet. Although shocked by this choice and uncertain of her feelings, Agnes gets a chance to come to terms with the death of her child through art in a manner most heartfelt and even ethereal.

Director Chloé Zhao tells this story with astounding grace, perfectly balancing the spiritual connection to nature and the relatable humanity of this historical English story. There are some mesmerizing shots of the lush countryside and muddy city, engrossing in a raw way that leans more towards the natural than theatrical. The gentle nature of the opening scenes makes it easy to see that Agnes could find the serene comfort in all living things and the essential nature of death. There’s a grit to how the film seeks warmth amid its earthy assembly, where even the limitations of Shakespeare’s play don’t distract from the meaningful monologues and the genuine connection to the words.

I expected a fine performance from Paul Mescal, and he did not disappoint as William Shakespeare, but it’s Jessie Buckley’s performance that was remarkably refreshing. She goes hard in every scene, from the horrifying heartbreak of losing a child to the wise warmth of raising her children. There’s intoxicating sweetness when she swoons with William, and believable bouts of being furious with her husband for favoring his work over family. But the finale is where she shines most, where her expression during Hamlet’s monologue perfectly conveys acceptance of mortality with hardly a word. From the pains of childbirth to the serenity of life’s unexpected qualities, every joy and pang is shared with an earnest humanity.

Hamnet is a beautifully existential contemplation on art, nature, passion, and grief, masterfully conveyed through Jessie Buckley’s astonishing performance. Zhao’s direction works hard to ensure that Shakespeare’s road to Hamlet isn’t laced with melodrama and to place greater purpose at the heart of the playwright’s ambitions. It’s easy to look back on Shakespeare’s work as archaic stage drama and highlight it as an innovation, but bringing out its deeper importance and emotional connection through a performance communicates far more than a standard refrain. I’ll never forget the final scene with Buckley reaching out towards a dying Hamlet, signalling how the performance has reached her. She reached me as well, and I’ve got the tear-stained ticket to prove it.

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