Month: April 2025

Unless the text of Maggie O’Farrell’s 2020 novel has been significantly departed from, Chloe Zhao‘s Hamnet (Focus Features, 11.27), co-written by O’Farrell and Zhao, is basically a hard-knocks feminist saga about Agnes Shakespeare (Jessie Buckley) coping with the indignities of 16th Century married life and the pitalls of dealng with a flaky, wistful husband.

It’s especially about the tragic death of Agnes’s 11-year-old son, Hamnet (Jacobi Jupe), from the plague in 1596.

And what of Hamnet’s dad, otherwise known as Agnes’s illustrious playwright hubby William Shakespeare (Paul Mescal)? Does he figure in the plot? Sure, of course he does…O’Farrell wouldn’t have written the book and the award-contending movie would’t be coming out if it wasn’t for The Bard’s towering reputation. But Will is a kind of secondary character in this thing. The movie is mainly about the angst of Agnes.

Hamnet is therefore a feminist wokey thang…co-written and directed by a woman…do the math. Wokey movies generally focus upon or celebrate (a) women, (b) LGBTQs and (c) POCs while portraying straight white guys as bad or weak apples. I haven’t seen Hamnet, but unless O’Farrell’s book has been totally thrown out the window, the film almost certainly qualifies in this regard. Agnes is Mother Courage, and Will is one weak, needy, selfish twat.

And yet three years after Hamnet’s passing, Will wrote Hamlet, a tragedy about an indecisive Danish prince whose name was fairly interchangable with that of Will’s late son.

Hamnet will probably debut at the Venice Film Festival, or a good three months before it opens.

Here are excerpts from online commentary about O’Farrell’s book — source #1 is from the Amazon “Hamnet” page, and source #2 is The-Bibliofile,com’s Hamnet page.

(a) “O’Farrell’s ‘Hamnet’ is a work of historical fiction, with a lot of emphasis on the word fiction. And is largely told with a focus on Agnes…Agnes and Anne being commonly interchangeable names at the time.”

(b) “Most people who know anything about Shakespeare know that his son Hamnet died, and Hamnet’s death was a deciding, changing factor in Shakespeare’s life, for good or ill. They also know that his married years with Anne/Agnes were largely spent apart from each other, and seem to have deteriorated for reasons unknown to time. We know she was a few years older than he. We also know she was almost certainly pregnant with their first child at the time of their marriage.”

(c) “‘Hamnet’ imagines Agnes as a child of nature — also a psychic and, in a way, according to the views of the times, a witch. She’s clearly smitten by Will, but as a result of this attachment and their marriage she gives up much of her own free thinking, and her own lifestyle, and other things that make her happy, all for love of this man. Well, what woman of the late 16th century did not do this? If you were a woman of this era, no matter how much you loved the man you married (or even if you didn’t love him at all), marriage meant the [spiritual] death of the woman. ‘Hamnet’ is an incredible exploration of that, emotionally.”

(d) “It is an introspection of a woman NO ONE knows, and he — Will — is a supporting character — and yet, brilliantly, at the same time, he is the main character. Because the planets circled him, not her. He’s portrayed as self-absorbed and troubled and needy — and at least in my own imagination, I can see him being all of those things.

(e) “The character of William Shakespeare in this book is humanized and made smaller. I understand why O’Farrell might want to do that, to avoid writing yet another tribute to the greatness of the towering figure of William Shakespeare. But this aspect of the book wasn’t entirely satisfying to me. Unlike his portrayal in the book, ultimately, Shakespeare wasn’t just a guy who became financially comfortable writing plays. Instead, he wrote masterpieces and a lot of them.

(f) “There’s very little in the book indicating that Will is or was a brilliant person. Instead, he’s depicted as a disappointment to his parents, an absent father, a weakling and kind of an unmotivated loser in general, all of which made it hard for me to view this as a story that was about Shakespeare at all.

(g) “I understand this wasn’t intended to be an origin story about William Shakespeare, but I also can’t imagine that this useless lump of a man described here would become the mythological creature that he is.”

“Give me libirum or give me meth” — Leonard Frey‘s Harold in William Friedkin and Mart Crowley‘s The Boys in the Band (’68).

I was completely taken and fascinated with R. Scott Gemmill‘s The Pitt during the first nine episodes, but in episode #10 something happened that really pissed me off — something that felt a teeny bit wokey by way of anti-white-male bias. It made me pull back emotionally.

I’m speaking about Patrick Ball‘s Dr. Frank Langdon, a brilliant, highly-stressed, wrapped-too-tight E.R. doctor, having illegally and unethically used librium — a chill drug — to take the edge off.

Technically known as chlordiazepoxide, librium, according to WebMD, “produces a calming effect on the brain and nerves, which helps to reduce anxiety symptoms and promote relaxation.”

It was obviously not cool and a blatant violation of the Hippocratic Oath for Langdon to have occasionally dosed himself. But in the greater scheme of things, taking librium isn’t that different from popping an occasional valium. It didn’t strike me as that big of a deal.

Did Langdon need to face up to a potential health issue or worse? Yes, but aside from making him detour into stridency or excitability, taking lithium wasn’t interfering with his abilities or duties. Not as dramatized, at least. It would have been far worse if Langdon had been drinking, say, or taking morphine as a stress-alleviator. Langdon is a first-rate physician. He was just moderately medicating.

If I was a fellow doctor in this situation and I’d discovered what Langdon was up to, my first and only response would have been to speak with him after-hours. I would say “Frank,this really has to stop and not only that, you have to seek counsel from an outside doctor, or perhaps even from a psychologist. But it has to stop, and on a provable basis. You can’t jeopardize your career like this.”

I would add the following: “If you don’t take immediate steps to remedy this situation I’m definitely going to report this matter to our supervisor (Noah Wyle‘s Dr.’Robby’ Robinavitch). I don’t want to torpedo you, Frank — you’re too good of a doctor to just be thrown over the side by a mistake. But this has to stop now.”

So what happens? Langdon’s adverse relationship with a rookie female doctor quickly turns petty and vindictive, and the shit hits the fan.

Isa Briones‘ Dr. Trinity Santos, an assertive feminist firebrand who’s only been working in “the Pitt” for a few hours, gets wise to Langdon’s behavior. She and Langdon have already developed a dislike for each other, partly because he’s been overly critical and scolding of some of her judgment calls. So not long after she discovers his librium problem, she tattle-tales to Dr. Robby. And then Robby, ignoring the fact that Langdon is one of the two or three best physicians he has in the E.R., angrily tells Langdon to “go home”. No warnings, no scoldings….just “fuck you, you’re done.”

If someone is really good — brilliant, amazing — at a tough and demanding job, the fair-minded thing is to give him or her a chance to man up and fix a personal problem. If he/she fails to correct it, then you lower the boom. It would be one thing if Langdon’s librium-chipping was causing medical mistakes or jeopardizing the well-being of patients, but that’s not the case.

So now I don’t like Dr, Robby any more. Noah Wyle‘s performance is awesome and he’ll almost certainly win an Emmy, but I don’t like how Dr. Robby reacted. In my mind he threw a good man under the bus for insufficient cause.

And I really don’t like Isa Briones. And I’m not the only one who feels this way. When Briones/Santos confides her concern about Langdon’s unethical behavior to Dr. Samira Mohan (Supriya Ganesh), the latter says “I don’t want to hear about it…I don’t want to know this!” And then she adds, rather angrily, “You’re trouble.”

“…that wherever I am and whatever stupid shit I’m doing that you’re back at my home, rooting for me. (pause) It’s all going to be all right, Sammy…comparatively.”

Guys who talk and think like Mark Ruffalo‘s Terry character (my younger brother bore certain resemblances) don’t tend to live long lives, much less nourishing ones.

You need to start figuring things out by your 30th birthday if not sooner, and if you’re still floundering around at age 35 you may as well admit it — you’re in fairly big trouble.

The power of this scene comes from the obvious fact that poor Laura Linney is putting this grim scenario together in her head as Ruffalo (pushing 30 when You Can Count On Me was filmed) is rambling and rationalizing.

The truth? I was almost Terry. I came thatclose, and then I began to pull it together between age 26 and 27. I nearly went into the sinkhole.