Hamnet Movie Review: Jessie Buckley and Paul Mescal turn intimate tragedy into compelling drama

Hamnet review

• Hamnet explores grief and family life in 16th-century England
• Buckley and Mescal deliver subtle, powerful performances
• Chloé Zhao directs with restraint, focusing on quiet emotion

Did our AI summary help?

‘Hamnet,’ directed by Chloé Zhao, released in theatres on 27 February and stars Jessie Buckley, Paul Mescal, Emily Watson, Joe Alwyn, Jacobi Jupe, and Olivia Lynes.

A quiet portrait of love and loss

‘Hamnet’ is a restrained, deeply felt portrait of family life in late 16th-century England. Directed by Oscar winner Chloé Zhao, the film stays grounded and personal, steering clear of big monologues or exaggerated drama. Instead, it pays attention to the stillness of the jungle, open fields, and the quiet patterns of daily work.

Drawing on fragments from William Shakespeare’s life, the story centers on his marriage to Agnes Hathaway and the loss of their son that shapes them both. It feels less like a historical retelling and more like a lived-in memory.

The mood of the film is steady and immersive, allowing moments of the film to create an impact on viewers. The camera lingers on subtle expressions, allowing unspoken feelings to surface and making the emotions feel raw and direct.

Building a world of everyday joy

The film begins in Stratford, where Agnes (Jessie Buckley) is closely tied to the natural world. She works with herbs, watches birds, and moves with quiet certainty. When she meets William (Paul Mescal), a young tutor, their bond forms quickly and leads to marriage.

Their early days are filled with ordinary happiness—the birth of Susanna, then the twins Judith and Hamnet. When rumours of plague spread, fear slowly enters the household. Judith, physically fragile since birth, falls ill but survives. Hamnet does not.

The loss changes everything without loud confrontation or dramatic outbursts. William returns from work to a home that no longer feels whole, and grief settles into the silence between them.

Unfinished grief

Agnes carries her sorrow in her body and daily rituals, holding on to the physical world around her. William turns inward, pouring what he cannot express into writing. The film shows how they drift apart in subtle ways, each locked inside private pain.

Yet beneath the distance, there is still connection, even if neither knows how to reach for it. Their shared loss remains the unspoken center of their lives.

Time moves forward, but healing does not follow a clear path. The film allows their grief to feel unfinished, as it often does in real life. Their silence speaks louder than any argument could. It is in these quiet stretches that the film finds its strength.

Buckley is riveting in the film

Jessie Buckley brings depth and quiet intensity to Agnes, showing love, fear, and grief in small, believable ways. Her expressions often say more than dialogue, and she makes even the simplest scenes feel layered. Paul Mescal plays William with restraint, presenting a man torn between family duty and personal ambition.

He keeps his emotions controlled, which makes his sorrow feel lived-in rather than dramatic. Young Jacobi Jupe leaves a strong impression as Hamnet, bringing warmth and curiosity that make his presence and, later, absence deeply felt.

Emily Watson adds quiet authority in her supporting role, grounding her character with subtle strength. The actors playing the children feel natural and unforced, which helps the family dynamic feel real.

Also Read: Paul Mescal and Gracie Abrams arrive arm in arm on the red carpet at the 2026 BAFTAs

The film respects the complexity of grief

Zhao’s direction stays measured and observant, lingering on the wind through trees, the hum of bees, or the stillness of a room. The domestic scenes in the film unfold with warmth and patience, grounding the story in everyday life.

This careful build-up makes the family feel real rather than like distant figures from history. After the death of Hamnet in the film, even simple routines begin to feel heavier, as if the air itself has shifted. Conversations grow shorter, and pauses stretch longer than before.

The absence is felt not only in memory but also in the empty spaces within the house. The house itself seems to hold the memory of his laughter. Nothing looks the same, even when everything appears unchanged. By the end, the film offers no easy comfort, only the sense that life continues, shaped forever by what has been lost.

It respects the complexity of grief without trying to solve it, and its impact builds quietly and stays with you.

Rating: 4.5/5