TELLURIDE, Colo. — It’s customary at Telluride for a director premiering a movie to step onstage, say a few words and slip away before the lights go down. On Friday night, before unveiling her new film “Hamnet,” Chloé Zhao admitted she couldn’t find the right words. For a film centered on William Shakespeare, the most famous wordsmith in history, that felt oddly fitting.
Instead, the 43-year-old Zhao led the packed Palm Theater in a meditative “ritual” she and her cast had practiced throughout the shoot, from before the script was even written until the final day on set. She asked the audience to close their eyes, place a hand over their hearts and feel the weight of their bodies in the seats and the surrounding Rocky Mountains holding them safe. Together, the crowd exhaled three long, loud sighs, then tapped their chests in unison, repeating softly: “This is my heart. This is my heart. This is my heart.”
By the time the film ended, those same hearts were left aching. Adapted from Maggie O’Farrell’s 2020 novel, “Hamnet” tells the story of Shakespeare’s marriage to Agnes (played by Jessie Buckley) and the devastating death of their 11-year-old son, Hamnet. Paul Mescal plays Shakespeare — not the untouchable bard of legend but a husband and father reckoning with grief. At once grounded and dreamlike, the film drew perhaps the most rapturous and unanimous response of any debut in this year’s lineup.
Eight years ago, Zhao came to Telluride with “The Rider,” fresh from Cannes and still largely unknown. In 2020 she returned with “Nomadland,” which received a Telluride-sponsored drive-in screening at Pasadena’s Rose Bowl due to the pandemic and went on to win best picture and make Oscar history, with Zhao becoming only the second woman — and the first and only woman of color — to win the directing prize. Then came Marvel’s “Eternals,” a massive undertaking that thrust Zhao into the franchise machine and brought with it a bruising critical reception. With “Hamnet,” she’s back to a smaller canvas, trading cosmic spectacle for intimate human drama.
On Sunday morning in Telluride, still processing the reaction to her latest film, Zhao sat down to talk — speaking so softly that even in a hushed room her words can be hard to catch — about why she took on O’Farrell’s story, how she approached Shakespeare’s world and the delicate task of turning heartbreak into art.
When I interviewed you for “The Rider” in 2018 you said you’re a very pessimistic person and when you get a good review, you’re just waiting for the bad one to drop. What are you feeling right now? Did you expect anything like the reaction “Hamnet” has received?I was nervous. I’ve walked through fires. I’ve been through the fire — a very painful fire — and I think there is probably a bit of fear around that.
What was the fire? You mean the reaction to “Eternals”?I’m not going to say out it loud, because when I do, things always get … [trails off]. Let’s just say we were very scared.
I think the fear mainly came from the fact that we felt so sure of what we experienced. It changed all of our lives and mine so profoundly that it’s still reverberating. You think: Were we crazy? And no one else will get it but us?
You go through this long, treacherous journey to deliver these things to safety and now it’s very tender because you look back at all the loss and the sacrifices along the way and you haven’t really had time to process it.
I’m curious what your history was with Shakespeare growing up in China and then moving to England and later Los Angeles as a teenager. What kind of early impression did he make on you?Shakespeare is very revered in China. In Chinese theater, they do Chinese versions of his plays. When I studied in the U.K., I didn’t speak English at the time and I did have to learn Shakespeare, which was very difficult. I don’t think I’m anywhere near where Paul and Jesse are with their understanding of Shakespeare. The language was always a barrier but the archetypal element of his stories was big for me — particularly “Macbeth.” In high school in Los Angeles, I performed Lady Macbeth’s speech on the stage because everybody had to do some kind of monologue for a project. And I barely spoke English.
You’ve said you initially weren’t sure that you were the right person to direct this movie. What was your hesitation?There were three elements to that. One is that I’m not a mother. I never felt particularly maternal. People in my life say, “That’s not true, Chloé,” but I don’t see myself stepping into that archetype at all. The second was the idea of a period film — how can I be authentic and fluid in a period film, where you can’t just make things up in the moment, you can’t be spontaneous? The third was Shakespeare. I wondered if I needed to be scholarly.
So how did you come around? I was driving near Four Corners, New Mexico, when Amblin called. I said, “No, thank you.” Steven [Spielberg] really wanted me to consider it. Then my agent said Paul Mescal wanted to meet me. I didn’t know his work. “Aftersun” was the secret screening here [in Telluride 2022], and we went for a walk by the creek. I watched him talking and thought, “Could he play young Shakespeare?” He already read the book. Then I read it and thought, if Maggie [O’Farrell] can write this with me, she can show me that world. As soon as I read the book, I said, “Can you set a meeting with Jessie Buckley?” I couldn’t see anyone else but her as Agnes.
You’d just come off “Eternals” after making small films like “Songs My Brothers Taught Me” and “Nomadland.” Now you’re back with something more intimate again. Did it feel like a reset?Every child has its own beauty and troubles. This budget was maybe six or seven times “Nomadland,” but much less than “Eternals.” But it’s also a period film, which has its own challenges. I come from a tradition of: Tell me how much money you have and I’ll make something with it.
But I changed a lot after “Nomadland” and “Eternals.” In my 30s, I wanted to chase the horizon. I didn’t want it to ever end. I’d just keep running. Then, at the end of “Eternals,” I felt I couldn’t film another sunset that would satisfy me the way in the way it had with “The Rider” and “Nomadland.” I went through a lot of difficult personal times and pushing midlife, I realized I’d been running like a cowboy, like a nomad.
When you stop running and stop chasing horizons and you stay still, the only place you can go is above or below. I descended pretty heavily these last four years. By the time I got to “Hamnet,” I was ready. The difference now is a different kind of humanity: older, more vertical.
We know so little about Shakespeare or his son. Some parts of your film are grounded, others dreamlike. How did you balance that?First of all, what’s real? Ancient mystics tried to understand what is being. “To be or not to be” goes beyond suicidal thought — it’s about existence itself. Every film has its own truth. For me, the truest thing is what’s present in the moment. I hired department heads and actors with knowledge of the history, but also the capacity to stay present and shift as we go. If someone came in too factual and literal, I said no. I wanted people who could do the research but also stay alive to the present.
Shakespeare’s name isn’t even spoken until late in the movie. This isn’t the icon — he’s a husband and father. Was it appealing to free him from the iconography?Maggie’s book laid the foundation, really focusing on Agnes. For the film, I wanted it to be about two people who see and are seen by each other. They’re archetypal characters. I’ve studied Jungian psychology and Hindu Tantra — the energies of masculine and feminine, being and doing, birth and death. If we don’t have a healthy connection to our roots, those forces battle within us. By creating two characters who embody that, the story can work at a collective level and an internal one. The alchemy of creativity lets those forces coexist. Hopefully it becomes something more than a story about marriage or the death of a child.
The loss of a child is hard to film and for audiences to watch. We’ve seen it tackled in different ways on screen, from “Ordinary People” to “Manchester by the Sea.” How did you approach portraying that kind of grief honestly without it being too much for the audience to bear?It might be for some people, which is understandable. I love both those films you mentioned very much and watched them multiple times. I’ve been making films about grief for a while. I don’t think about what’s too much or too little. Agnes’ wailing — I could do that right now in front of you. We should be allowed to. The silence for thousands of years has done great damage.
How do you mean?Think about ancient warriors coming back from battle — they danced, screamed, healed together. In Tantra, sexuality was part of healing. Now it’s: Talk to a therapist, take medication, go back to your family. The body is restricted. Telling a woman to be quiet when she gave birth and pinning her down. We know why this control happens. But I think people are responding to films where actors are embodied, because we miss that.
How do you see grief as a through-line in all your films?All my films start with characters who’ve lost what defined them: dreams, home, purpose, faith. They grieve who they thought they were in order to become who they truly are. That’s grief on an individual and collective level. I wasn’t raised to understand grief. So I made films to give characters catharsis and through that, myself.
My friend [“Sinners” director] Ryan Coogler, who knows me so well, sat me down after seeing “Hamnet” and he said, “The other films were beautiful but you hid behind things. This is the first time I saw you in there. You’re finally being seen.” It took four films, working with that kind of grief and fear to get to that point.
The Oscar chatter has already started. You’ve obviously been through this before. How do you tune that out and just focus on what’s in front of you?The same way that me, Paul and Jessie were doing on set. We made the film by being present. It’s difficult, so I’m trying to take that practice daily — just saying, “OK, today is all we have.” It’s flattering and nice but after what I’ve experienced in my career, you cannot possibly predict how things are going to go. I never expected “Nomadland” to go on that journey. So I surrender to the river.
Do you know what you’re doing next?I just wrapped the pilot on the new “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” series, which is set 25 years later. My company is part of developing it. The fandom is so special to me and I’m excited about how that’s going to go into the world. Then I think I want to do a play. I was working on “Our Town” and I had to let that go in order to do “Hamnet.” But I figured maybe I’ll learn something from this film and come back to the stage.
The industry feels pretty shaky right now: fewer jobs, studio consolidation, anxiety around AI. As a filmmaker, how do you see the state of the business and the art form?I sense we’re at a threshold — not just the film business, everything. It’s uncomfortable. We’re like Will standing at the edge of the river when, at least in our film, the “to be or not to be” monologue was born. We can’t go back and we don’t know how to go forward. In physics, when two opposing forces pull so strongly, a new equilibrium bursts out. That’s how the universe expands. I think we’re there. We can kick and scream or we can surrender, hug our loved ones and focus on what we can do today.
Hopefully I’m not so pessimistic now. Or at least a little bit less.
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