Kenneth Branagh’s Hamlet 1996: What Most People Get Wrong About This 4-Hour Epic

Kenneth Branagh’s Hamlet 1996: What Most People Get Wrong About This 4-Hour Epic

Kenneth Branagh didn’t just make a movie when he tackled Hamlet 1996; he basically staged a four-hour siege on the senses. Most directors look at Shakespeare’s longest play and start hacking away at the script like they’re pruning a messy hedge. Not Branagh. He decided to film the "entirety" version, a massive conflation of the First Folio and the Second Quarto. It’s the only time a major theatrical film has ever used the full, unabridged text.

The result is a 242-minute beast.

Honestly, it’s a lot to ask of an audience. You’ve got to really love the Melancholy Dane to sit through a movie that’s longer than most international flights. But there’s a reason this version still dominates the conversation in film schools and Shakespeare circles decades later. It isn't just the length. It’s the sheer, unapologetic audacity of the production.

Why the 70mm Format Changed Everything

Branagh and his cinematographer, Alex Thomson, shot the whole thing on 65mm film (for 70mm release). This was a huge deal back then. In fact, it was the last major dramatic feature to be shot entirely on 70mm until Samsara came along years later.

Why does that matter for a play that usually happens in a dark castle?

Basically, it allowed for a sense of scale that felt more like Lawrence of Arabia than a theatrical tragedy. Instead of a cramped, medieval Elsinore, we get the sprawling, 19th-century grandeur of Blenheim Palace. The palace’s interiors were recreated at Shepperton Studios with a specific visual gimmick: mirrors. Mirrors are everywhere. They catch the light, they hide spies, and they force Hamlet to literally stare at his own indecision during the "To be, or not to be" speech.

It’s visually exhausting in the best way possible. The colors are vibrant—lots of primary reds and blinding whites—which sort of clashes with the "moody" vibe most people expect from Hamlet.

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The "Stellar" (and Weird) Casting Choices

The cast list reads like Branagh just went through his Rolodex and called every famous person he knew. You’ve got the heavy hitters in the lead roles:

  • Derek Jacobi as Claudius (who is terrifyingly human here).
  • Julie Christie as Gertrude.
  • Kate Winslet, fresh off Sense and Sensibility, as an Ophelia who actually feels like a person before she loses her mind.

But then things get weird. The cameos are legendary for being both impressive and, frankly, a bit distracting.

You’re watching this heavy drama about regicide, and suddenly Robin Williams pops up as Osric. Then Billy Crystal shows up as the First Gravedigger. Even Jack Lemmon is there as Marcellus. For some critics, seeing Hollywood's biggest comedians in Elsinore was a bridge too far. It felt a bit like "human product placement," as some reviewers put it. But you can’t deny the energy it brings. Charlton Heston as the Player King is a genuine standout; he brings a level of old-school gravitas that makes you realize why Hamlet is so obsessed with the theatre in the first place.

The Hamlet 1996 Narrative: Action vs. Inaction

One of the biggest misconceptions about this play is that Hamlet is just a guy who can’t make up his mind. Branagh’s interpretation pushes back on that. His Hamlet is a "man of action" who is trapped by circumstance.

He’s manic. He’s physical. He’s often shouting.

This isn't the pale, ghost-like Hamlet of Laurence Olivier. Branagh’s Prince is athletic. When he’s not brooding, he’s sprinting through secret passages or leaping over furniture. By including the subplots involving Fortinbras (played by a young Rufus Sewell), the film reminds you that this isn't just a family feud—it’s a political thriller. There’s an invading army on the horizon. The stakes aren't just Hamlet's soul; they're the entire kingdom of Denmark.

What the Uncut Text Actually Adds

You might wonder if we really needed those extra two hours. Most versions cut the character of Reynaldo or the long-winded diplomatic scenes with Norway.

By keeping them, Branagh shows us the "surveillance state" of Elsinore. You realize that everyone is being watched. Polonius is spying on his son; Claudius is spying on Hamlet; Hamlet is spying on everyone. The full text turns the play from a solo character study into an ensemble piece about a corrupt society.

Is it perfect? No. Some of the flashbacks—like the one showing Hamlet and Ophelia in bed together—were controversial. Purists felt it took away the ambiguity of their relationship. Branagh, however, clearly wanted to make the stakes of their breakup feel more visceral. He wanted you to feel the loss, not just analyze it.


How to Experience Hamlet 1996 Today

If you're planning to dive into this four-hour epic, don't try to power through it in one sitting unless you've got a lot of coffee. It was originally released with an intermission for a reason.

  • Watch the 70mm Restoration: If you can find the Blu-ray or a 4K digital version, do it. The detail in the costumes (those gold braids on the uniforms!) and the depth of the Blenheim Palace sets are half the experience.
  • Pay Attention to the Mirrors: Look at how many scenes are filmed through reflections. It’s Branagh’s way of showing that no one in Elsinore is being their true self.
  • Listen to Patrick Doyle’s Score: The music is lush and romantic, which helps bridge the gap during the longer, text-heavy stretches.

The legacy of Hamlet 1996 isn't just its length. It’s the fact that it exists at all. In an era of "tiktoke-sized" attention spans, a four-hour Shakespeare movie shot on 70mm feels like a relic from another world. It’s a testament to the idea that some stories are so big they actually need the extra room to breathe.

If you're looking for a deep dive into the production, check out the "To Be on Camera" featurette on the DVD/Blu-ray. It gives a pretty raw look at how they managed to coordinate such a massive cast and crew at Shepperton without the whole thing collapsing under its own weight. It's also worth comparing this version to the 1990 Zeffirelli film just to see how much a "complete" text changes the rhythm of the story.