Hamnet ramble (this isn’t even a review)
Everything that can be effectively said about Hamnet has been said. It is a wonderful reflection on grief, one that is shown viscerally. It is a story about every form of love, each one given ample time to develop on screen.
I first saw this film with my mom. We saw it on IMAX, and we saw it in a virtually empty theatre. This is one of the perks of a society where film is on a downtrend. You often get to sit in a cold, dark, and empty room, except for the focal point, a glaringly bright screen. Seeing Hamnet with my mom elicited every reaction you may expect. It was intense and the drive home was awash with emotion.
It is hard for me to see Hamnet as anything less than a love letter to my own mother. Somehow, Chloe Zhao replicated exactly what plays in my head when my mom walks into a room. Forests and gentle spells, a dissonance of sternness and playfulness, and a ball of grief that leaks out in beautiful moments.
Something I love about Hamnet is the way it portrays grief as not just something awful and violent, but something that is so huge that it is almost a physical feeling that can be threaded through large crowds. The film draws on this as audiences watch Hamlet for the first time. People are overcome with emotion, their hands clutched to their hearts and their eyes glossy. People gasp and quietly exclaim to the actors on stage. Though it is clear they all know that the play before them is acted out, they make an active choice to engage with it. The shot of every person in the Globe theatre reaching out to the actor playing Hamlet is something I think about often.
This takes me to a statement I made earlier. I said that film is a dying art, or at least, that going to the movies is something of the past. Though I believe this to be true, I believe that streaming services are making movie “culture” something less and less engaged with, I also think about just the other night.
I work at a children's science museum. Every Friday during the summer we have a movie night outside, and people can gather under a big inflatable screen to watch classic 80’s comedies or sometimes cheeky romances. There are food trucks and cornholes, and we usually get a big turn out. This high attendance number usually doesn't mean people actually are sitting and watching the movie. They are mingling, eating, and wrangling their kids.
That being said, I left work the other day and walked past the pavilion where they show the movies. The only sound was The Goonies, and it was confusing because there are usually at least three kids screaming at this time. I looked over and saw a full pavilion of adults and kids, attention rapt on the screen as Sloth swung down from the pirate ship. People gasped and some kids shouted, but just fleeting yelps.
Everyone chose to engage with a movie that at least half of them had seen already. More importantly, people had decided that it was worth it to come to a place, sit down, and be in a community, all having the same experience. I think that is just wonderful.