I had read and loved Maggie O’Farrell’s novel, but this felt more visceral, sitting in the darkened cinema watching the child Hamnet acting a protracted, violent death, calling out in delirium for a mother who can no longer hear him.
Those intimate with death might be reminded in this moment that, despite the euphemism “peacefully”, the going can be anything but. I badly wanted to get up and leave then, but I was with my sister and the thought of gathering my things and sending an awkward text from the foyer kept me in my seat. I ground my teeth together instead while a dull ache started in my throat.
Later on, the character of Shakespeare, played by Paul Mescal, rubs at the same spot on his own neck before breaking down in his study.
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