The most striking about the new film Hamnet
is not what the film claims,
but what it refuses to show.
Although nominally centered on Shakespeare’s family tragedy, the film systematically avoids presenting Shakespeare as a creative intelligence. There is no dramatized authorship, no moment of linguistic or poetic transformation, no visible bridge between lived experience and literary production.
The author-function remains curiously hollow. Shakespeare exists as a name, a husband, a father—but not as a mind.
