Hamlet becomes art therapy in the hands of 2025's films

All the world's a stage in 2025, and all the films are performing Hamlet.

Hamlet becomes art therapy in the hands of 2025's films

Hamlet, William Shakespeare’s most famous play, was the subject of three different movies this year. However, this trio of films were a far cry from Kenneth Branagh’s unabridged adaptation, or even the 2000 movie where Ethan Hawke delivers the “To be, or not to be” speech inside of a Blockbuster video. Any high school English student trying to watch a movie instead of doing the assigned reading would fail if they watched 2025’s takes on Hamlet. These were much weirder stories: an emotionally devastating biopic about the Bard himself and the son whose death may have inspired the play, a documentary about performing the play inside a violent video game sandbox, and a gender-swapped anime epic about a quest for revenge in the underworld. Though they might not be Hamlet for Shakespeare purists, Hamnet, Grand Theft Hamlet, and Scarlet are using the totemic legacy of the play to a greater end. This tragedy is one of the most well-known works of art in all the world; these movies draw on that familiarity to show how essential art is in times of tragedy. That they’re all riffing on a 400-year-old play only makes them more relevant to the modern age.

Hamlet is endlessly rich, with countless interpretations and thematic readings, but grief has always been central to it. Hamnet, filmmaker Chloé Zhao’s Oscar frontrunner, is the tearjerker of 2025’s adaptive trio. Starring Paul Mescal as the Bard and Jessie Buckley as his wife, Agnes, this take on Maggie O’Farrell’s 2020 novel tells of their profound love and profound loss. Shakespeare’s son, Hamnet, died when he was 11, and the emotionally broken playwright, guilty that he wasn’t able to save his boy, channels his grief into a work where it’s the father who dies and the similarly named son who seeks revenge. 

Hamnet culminates in the first performance of Hamlet at the Globe Theatre. In the audience is Agnes, estranged from her husband after he threw himself into his writing as some form of therapy. (Or is it penance?) To the sounds of Max Richter’s “On The Nature Of Daylight,” Agnes’ anger over his hijacking of her dead son’s name turns into catharsis. She connects with the actor playing Hamlet and watches a stand-in for her boy, grown to an age he’ll never see, meet a dignified end. The loss of a child in an unfathomable one, a personal tragedy too fundamental and raw for even the grandest tragic play to truly match. It’s ironic then that the moviegoing audience’s familiarity with Hamlet helps unlock Agnes’ complex emotions. After spending so much intimate time with this family going through the worst possible event, it’s a performance on a stage that lets Agnes—and the viewers—find something to relate to. Stories, especially a touchstone like Hamlet, are something we can understand. Through art, there’s some measure of peace.

Grand Theft Hamlet similarly utilizes Hamlet‘s legacy in an attempt to deal with a specific and sweeping grief, and to find some catharsis—albeit in a less devastating way than Hamnet. The British documentary tracks the efforts of theater actors Sam Crane and Mark Oosterveen as they attempted to make art while shut away during one of the U.K.’s COVID lockdowns. While playing Grand Theft Auto Online, Crane happened across a large outdoor stage in the game’s virtual world and decided that it would be a fun challenge to stage a production of Hamlet inside a game where everybody is shooting each other all the time. Language barriers, actors whose avatars look like dancing aliens, drive-by shootings and bystanders with rocket launchers interrupting rehearsal, and blimp mishaps all contribute to making this a uniquely rowdy Hamlet. But despite all that, it’s still Hamlet—and, of course, it had to be Hamlet. If you were going to put on a play inside Grand Theft Auto, Hamlet would be the one you’d pick. You wouldn’t stop pulling carjackings for any old play. Hamlet’s influence is as strong in the virtual world as it is in the real one.

As a documentary, Grand Theft Hamlet is held back by how obvious it is that many scenes are being recreated or staged—perhaps a necessary technique to tell the narrative, but one that cheapens the moments of true spontaneity that make the fusion of actual play with an actual play work so well. Even still, it’s moving to watch live performers grieve a lost community. This was shot during the depths of the pandemic; Crane and Oosterveen had no idea when (or if) they’d ever be able to act on a stage again. Not unlike Mescal’s Shakespeare in Hamnet, they turned to art for solace in their time of need. The same specific work of art, in fact. 

Not so in Scarlet, the only one of these movies where Hamlet isn’t literally staged. Yet it’s very much telling the same story, or at least starting with it. Written and directed by Mamoru Hosoda, the man behind acclaimed anime films like Wolf Children, Mirai, and Belle, Scarlet‘s title character is a princess rather than a prince, but her circumstances are otherwise the same as Hamlet’s. Her uncle has murdered her father and her mother quickly remarried. Things go very off script, however, when her attempt to get revenge fails and her uncle poisons her—several acts too early to resemble Hamlet for long. She awakens in some sort of underworld where she continues her quest, seeking to defeat her uncle down in hell. It’s a Heavy Metal-esque fantasy epic that only gets further from Shakespeare’s original text when Scarlet encounters a paramedic from present-day Japan in this netherrealm. 

Despite all this, though, Scarlet is the most straightforward adaptation of the trio. A grieving heir to a throne seeks revenge for a murdered father. Even with the radically different setting and form, the themes and emotions are the same as in the original tragedy, merely dialed up. Where Scarlet truly breaks from Hamlet is near the end, yet this pivot actually ties the movie more deeply to its two contemporaries. Where in Hamlet the young prince uses a play-within-a-play to catch the conscience of the traitorous king—an act of subterfuge through art that places every player on a deadly path—Scarlet‘s most exhilarating moment comes when Scarlet has a vision of herself dancing with her paramedic companion in the present day. It’s a joyful, exuberant artistic expression that’s life-affirming rather than death-seeking. In Hamnet and Grand Theft Hamlet, a production of the play helps pull the protagonists from the darkness; in Scarlet it’s a different sort of art, dance, that pulls her out of the still-recognizable plot of Hamlet and onto a better path. She’ll live again rather than stay in this hellish land of despair and anger. Such is the power of art.

These films work in part because Hamlet is a foundational narrative touchstone that everybody has at least a passing familiarity with, whether they’re a British gamer or a Japanese animator. You don’t need to be a Shakespeare scholar to appreciate Grand Theft Hamlet or Scarlet; these movies only need to reference our awareness of one of the most famous works of all time. Hamnet, due to its historical and biographical nature, does require a bit more context to fully connect with, but even so, Shakespeare’s play has become even more important in an era where monoculture no longer exists.

Grief is universal, as is the desire to create art in response. Scarlet, Grand Theft Hamlet, and Hamnet all understand this—their characters respond to their circumstances by performing the play, by dancing to escape from its story, or even by writing the play in the first place. These coping methods are so affecting because Hamlet itself is universal; it is a common language through which to translate themes, regardless of how different these movies might seem in their execution. Hamlet, by virtue of its greatness and its great ubiquity, is itself a natural stage for these feelings to play out.

 
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