Hamnet (2025)

I went into Hamnet with very low expectations and a decent amount of skepticism. I had seen the previews what felt like a hundred times, and kept thinking the same thing over and over: will we ever see Paul Mescal in a role where he is not quietly unraveling? Add Shakespeare, a period setting, and the word “adaptation,” and I had pretty much written it off as something I would admire from a distance and never actually enjoy. Period pieces are rarely my thing, and Shakespeare has never been a comfort zone for me. I assumed this would fall squarely into the category of films that are technically impressive but simply not for me.

Then the awards buzz started. Best picture whispers and talks of numerous accolades. Then I heard, “You need to see this on the big screen.” Fiiiine, so I went…and what I found was not what I expected at all.

Hamnet is heavy, yes. It is emotionally dense and something you probably should be in the mood for, or at least aware of going in. The film is not interested in spectacle or grand statements, but instead is a close look at grief, how it settles into a household, how it reshapes relationships, and how people try and fail to make sense of loss that has no clear explanation.

From a psychological standpoint, the film is less about Shakespeare the figure and far more about what happens to a family when something breaks at its center. The death of a child may have been the straw that broke the camel’s back, but even more so it is a slow fracture that spreads outward. You can see it in the silences between characters, in the way conversations stop mid thought, in how daily routines continue but feel hollow. This is grief not as a moment but as a condition.

If you watch it, I encourage you to pay attention to how differently each character carries that grief. Agnes, in particular, becomes the emotional core of the film (and what a performance!). Her relationship to loss is instinctive and embodied, and she doesn’t intellectualize what has happened. She simply feels and reverts to a place of self-preservation. The film captures that psychological truth with precision: when someone experiences profound loss, especially a loss that feels senseless, the world often becomes unbearable. People pull inward not because they do not care, but because caring hurts too much.

Shakespeare, on the other hand, processes grief through distance, work, language. and absence. This contrast is where the film is fascinating. Psychologically, it presents two coping mechanisms that exist in tension: one character cannot escape the emotional weight of what happened, what the other tries to transform it into something that can be held at arm’s length. Neither approach is framed as right or wrong – they simply exist, and the space between them becomes painful.

The film also explores guilt in subtle but powerful ways. There is an undercurrent of responsibility that never fully resolves. Could something have been done differently? Should someone have noticed something sooner? This kind of thinking is deeply familiar in grief psychology. When a loss feels uncontrollable, the mind searches for cause. Not because it changes the outcome, but because uncertainty is unbearable.

What I appreciated most is that Hamnet never rushes its emotional beats. It trusts the audience to sit with discomfort. From a psychological lens, this mirrors the way grief actually works in that it’s not linear. Just when you think a character might be moving forward, something pulls them back into the same emotional place. That repetition may feel slow to some viewers, but it felt honest to me.

Is this a movie I would rewatch? Goodness, probably not. And it will not land in my personal top favorites of the year. But that has nothing to do with how good of a movie it is. This is a film that demands emotional energy and I think once is enough for me.

If you’re someone who enjoys character-driven stories that prioritize emotional truth over plot momentum, this film will likely resonate. If you are curious about how grief reshapes identity, relationships, and purpose, there is a lot here to sit with. And if you have ever wondered how art can emerge from loss without erasing it, Hamnet offers a quiet but powerful answer.