HAMNET

 Maggie O'Farrell's Hamnet was amongst my favourite books of 2016. In my Libib keeping-track-of-books app, I said:

"This is an exquiste novel. I've read books based on the lives of Shakespeare and Marlowe but this is the best. Partly because Shakespeare is never named and so the focus is on his family. Partly because there's an impressive depth of research about the smells and sounds and living in 16th century England. Partly because the characters are so warmly crafted. And partly because this story of grief is so profoundly told. A beautiful, lyrical piece of writing."

Not surprisingly, I decided to see the film. I'd seen the shorts during last year's British Film Festival and wasn't particularly impressed but then the nominations started pouring forth and I convinced Susan and some friends to go. However, just after we'd bought our tickets, some negative commentary started coming out. Was this, the critics asked, grief-porn? But we walked into the cinema hoping to enjoy the film.

But we didn't.

My first comment was "It proves that Shakespeare is still amongst the best writer of all" because the only time I was moved by the film was when his lines were being spoken. How can you call a film "flat" when it's full of the screams of childbirth, the sobs of bereavement, and sweeping violins to bookmark all the grief? But it was. The child actor who plays such a crucial role in the film was, dare I say it, a little to plump and pink. Of course the interior shots were well framed but was an Elizabethen house really likely to have beds that wide and bedrooms that big for children? And what was Shakespeare doing swimming freestyle in a lake?

It's a questionable story - that Shakespeare wrote Hamlet in response to the death of his son Hamnet but my recommendation would be to read the book and forget the film.