By James Hattan, Second Year, Theatre & English
I have long thought that immediate rapturous applause is not the greatest compliment one can pay an affecting work of art. Utter silence is surely the most powerful - a moment in which it feels as if there is an electric current binding the audience together as we slowly absorb the content we’ve just watched.
At the preview screening of Elsinore (2026), only when the credits rolled to minor production personnel did the audience eventually trickle out the door - such is the emotionally devastating impact of this beautiful film.
Elsinore tells the story of actor Ian Charleson (Andrew Scott), who performed Hamlet 24 times at the National Theatre whilst nearing the end of his life due to living with AIDS. The film utilises the parallels between Hamlet and Charleson’s own circumstances to ask what it really means to live - and how can creativity and art further our quality of life? Stephen Bereford’s script presents a remarkably nuanced account of a soul resistent to the disease.
Of course there are brutal scenes - a convulsing Charleson imagining the Olivier stage comes to mind - yet Charleson also holds a dark, sparkling wit till the end. Savage lines like ‘those cancer patients are spoilt’ are not uncommon and it is awe-inspiring to observe Charleson’s utter obsession with Hamlet, even as he is hospitalised with severe pneumonia. Ultimately, despite the rough subject matter, this is a film that celebrates art’s power to heal the soul.
This is, of course, aided hugely by Simon Stone’s stylised direction. Stone focuses profusely on the dichotomy of the limiting illness and the excitement of the theatre in his shots. Quite often, we see the vast, glamorous Olivier auditorium juxtaposed with the ever-increasing dark lesions filling Charleson’s skin. This makes the film a frequently uncomfortable battle to observe through Stone's visuals as well as Bereford's script. Stone creates an air of authenticity by his impressive knack for limiting the number of jarring cuts in a scene, instead preferring to pan and manually manoeuvre the camera to adjust who’s in his shots. The film thus gives the impression of a documentary - although a pretty sad one at that.
Indeed, at points, both writing and direction become rather too sentimental. A montage of Charleson’s favourite moments in his last years near the end of the film is far too on the nose, not helped by weak, clichéd underscoring by Stefan Gregory. Much of the music in the movie sounds like Hans Zimmer passed through an artificial intelligence model with predictable chords played by sweeping violins and keys. It is an unashamed attempt to tug at the heart strings.
However, all of the above are minor details when considering the jaw-dropping central performance by Andrew Scott - this is what the film will be remembered for. It seems as if Scott never moves his face on screen, yet solely with his eyes is able to express the extremes of human experience. When Charleson reads Hamlet, there is a gleeful delight in Scott’s eyes, while, as he witnesses his friends slowly perish from the dreaded disease, there are tears of despair.
In the hands of a lesser actor, I might suggest that Charleson’s character is an underdeveloped one - he is really only defined by his passion for Shakespeare - yet, with Scott, there are tunnels of inner life. The slight sparkle when Charleson meets his friends alludes to his ultimate desire to experience joy and love through immense pain. This film will surely define Scott’s career, be discussed for decades to come and will - or at least should - win him the Oscar.
Daisy Forbes
Elsinore will undeniably be a wildly popular movie as, like Hamnet (2025), there are moments where it is impossible not to shed a tear. Though it perhaps bathes in its emotional status for a tad too long, it is still a nuanced look at a truly remarkable man. It is also ultimately a love letter to the power of theatre. The film shows that, as art and mortality battle back and forth, there is no doubt that joyous creativity will win out. A heartwarming core message to an often sobering film.
Featured image: IMDb / Elsinore
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