Chloé Zhao returns to intimate, character-driven filmmaking with Hamnet, a literary adaptation that positions itself squarely in the awards conversation through craft, restraint, and emotional accumulation rather than exposition or cascading plot developments as seen in Marvel’s The Eternals. Best known for her Oscar-winning work on Nomadland, Zhao once again favors atmosphere and interiority, trusting her collaborators—and the audience—to engage with feeling over narrative instruction.
After watching the film’s trailer, we’ll dive into the electrifying elements that makes this film an awards frontrunner…
The film centers on Agnes Shakespeare (Jessie Buckley), her husband William (Paul Mescal), and their children, with Zhao framing the story through the rhythms of domestic life rather than the mythology of literary genius. The first act unfolds in an intentionally elusive manner, prioritizing mood and texture over narrative clarity. While this approach establishes tone, it slightly takes away from the film’s early pacing, delaying full emotional engagement.
Once the children enter the story, however, Hamnet finds its emotional center. From the second act onward, the film becomes deeply absorbing, as Shakespeare’s family life emerges as the undeniable heart of the narrative. Zhao’s focus on parenthood, loss, and unspoken sorrow aligns closely with her previous work, but here the emotional stakes feel more intimate and piercing.
Jessie Buckley delivers an Oscar-worthy performance as Agnes—one that currently positions her as the Best Actress frontrunner, even amid strong personal admiration for Emma Stone’s daring work in Bugonia. Buckley, already an Academy Award nominee and multiple BAFTA contender, gives a performance built on restraint and internalization. She conveys grief through physical stillness, breath, and gaze rather than overt dramatics. By the film’s final act, the emotional weight she carries feels both crushing and fully earned.
Paul Mescal provides a quietly effective counterbalance, but it is the film’s youngest performers who leave the most lasting impression. Brothers Noah Jupe and Jacobi Jupe are both excellent, delivering performances of remarkable naturalism. Jacobi’s presence registers immediately, while Noah’s role only fully comes into focus in the film’s closing minutes. That delayed emphasis—culminating in his portrayal of Hamnet and the transformation of personal loss into art—becomes one of the film’s most emotionally rewarding choices.
Zhao’s direction is supported by luminous cinematography that captures the natural world as both refuge and silent witness. The camera lingers on light, fabric, wind, and earth, allowing emotion to surface organically. The visual language is unobtrusive yet precise, reinforcing the film’s themes without ever underlining them.
Max Richter’s score is among Hamnet’s most vital elements. Not since his work on Scott Cooper’s Hostiles has Richter so perfectly mirrored tattered emotional truths while simultaneously invoking something mystical and transcendent. Here, his music functions as an emotional undercurrent rather than a traditional accompaniment—deepening sorrow, memory, and longing without overwhelming the imagery. It is a quietly devastating score that should place Richter firmly in the awards conversation.
Below the line, the film’s craftsmanship remains equally rich across all categories. The editing allows scenes to breathe, even when that patience slightly tempers urgency in the opening act. Sound design and mixing are carefully layered, working in concert with Richter’s score to create a textured sonic environment that mirrors the film’s emotional intimacy. The production design grounds the film historically while remaining unobtrusive, reinforcing Zhao’s preference for authenticity over ornamentation.
The film builds steadily toward its climax: a public performance of Hamlet that reframes everything that came before it. The sequence is emotionally crippling in the best possible way—transforming accumulated grief into communal experience. Rather than functioning as simple catharsis, the moment feels profoundly earned, rewarding viewers who have allowed the film to unfold on its own terms.
While the script’s first act occasionally keeps the audience at a measured distance, this restraint ultimately serves the film’s larger arc. From the second act forward, Hamnet gains momentum and emotional clarity, culminating in a finale that resonates with rare poignancy.
Hamnet is a film of patience, craft, and emotional precision. Anchored by Jessie Buckley’s extraordinary performance, elevated by Max Richter’s transcendent score, and guided by Chloé Zhao’s assured direction, it stands as one of the year’s most quietly powerful achievements. When learning the finale’s “outreach” moment was discovered with only days left in filming — clearly inspiration was imbued in this period piece.
Letter Grade: A