Andrew Scott shines in Elsinore: a bold, funny portrait of art and mortality

Andrew Scott commands every frame of Elsinore, turning a 1989 AIDS‑era tragedy into a celebration of stagecraft and human connection. The film, written by Stephen Beresford, follows Ian Charleson—renowned for Chariots of Fire—as he confronts his own mortality while rehearsing Hamlet at the National Theatre. In the opening minutes, Scott’s Ian declares he “rather die from Hamlet than AIDS,” a line that sets a tone both defiant and tender.

Andrew Scott’s nuanced turn

The Irish star, also a producer, injects the role with a rhythm that feels like live theater. His gestures, from a hesitant handshake to a lingering hug, carry weight that mirrors the era’s fear of contagion—a reality documented by Reuters. Critics at TIFF noted a ↑ 98% approval rating for his performance, while some reviewers pointed to a clumsy finale that dilutes the emotional payoff.

Balancing grief with wit

Comedy surfaces through supporting characters: a stage‑door clerk with a gravedigger’s sarcasm, Billie Piper’s casting‑agent Patsy who peppers scenes with levity, and Olivia Colman’s doctor who rehearses hand‑washing rituals. The humor feels intentional; as Scott explained at the Toronto premiere, “Humans always look for the light.” This aligns with Shakespeare’s own moments of comic relief in Hamlet.

“The film asks what we choose to live for while we can,” a critic wrote, noting the lingering impact of every touch on screen.

A subplot pits Ian against queer filmmaker Derek Jarman (David Dawson), forcing a debate over visibility versus privacy—a conflict still resonant in today’s discourse on LGBTQ rights, especially after the pandemic heightened scrutiny of personal health.

Director Simon Stone grants both sides space, refusing to label one path as right. The result is a portrait that honors the actor’s craft while acknowledging the era’s stigma.

While the third act slides into a montage of decay that feels overly sentimental, the film’s core remains proof of artistic resilience. The final scene, meant to echo the traditional “banging of windows” signal, instead swells with a score that drowns the intended clatter—a misstep that some view as a missed opportunity.

Overall, Andrew Scott delivers perhaps his most layered work to date, reminding audiences that art can outlive the bodies that create it.