Manflesh of the Decade: 👑 Sir Kenneth Branagh✨

Before I even knew what his deal was, before I could even pick his face out of a lineup, I already knew deep inside, from all that precedes him in the zeitgeist of film and the Shakespeare world at large, that Kenneth Branagh was either a total genius or a total dick. I quickly realized that your opinion of him depends on your your intellectual interests and tastes, and how you rank them. Mine are firmly 1) film 2) Shakespeare and 3) HOTNESS. So upon my first fateful viewing of Hamlet (1996) ten years ago, I had no choice but to adore him.

Ken has since been knighted in my heart (and in real life)—inducted into a pantheon of creatives who daily spark joy in my soul. On this, the celebration of his 62nd year, my conscience compels me to share a reverent blog post a decade in the making. I make no apologies.

Sir Ken, the very humble Irish boy who grew up with enough outsized chutzpah to regularly gather myriad and diverse talents around him to make films and put on theatre shows for 30+ years, is an incandescent spirit, a perseverant patron saint of stage and screen entertainment. If you would take my inerrant fangirlish plaudits with a grain of salt, consider the core of my reasoning for such appreciation: Kenneth Branagh is the most influential Shakespearean film auteur in film history. Full stop.

His Henry V (1989) is almost universally cited as the shining flagship that ushered in a slew of Shakespearean and period films in America in the 90s. He’s directed five adaptations, more than any other director (Olivier, Kurosawa, Zefferelli, and Welles all directed three a piece). He’s acted in five, and directed two more Shakespeare-related films, one of which he wrote (A Midwinter’s Tale) and the other in which he played Shakespeare himself (All is True). He’s the president of the Royal Academy of Arts and Drama and has put on numerous theatre plays of all kinds for decades, including critically acclaimed productions of Macbeth and The Winter’s Tale. You can listen to him read you every sonnet Shakespeare ever wrote on audiobook, as well as hear his pure vocal talents on star-studded BBC radio shows of Hamlet, King Lear, and Romeo and Juliet.

And this is just his Shakespeare shit.

He’s been nominated for an Academy Award eight times in seven distinct categories (Best Director, Actor, Supporting Actor, Original and Adapted Screenplays, Best Picture, and Short Subject Film), more than any other person on the planet at the moment. His television work on the BBC’s Wallander is absolutely some of his best acting to date. He’s one of the handful of filmmakers in the world who still continues to espouse use of actual film by demonstrating the beauty of 70mm stock with his 4-hour Hamlet opus and Agatha Christie films. He does this because he’s clearly a huge cinephile, and respects the medium and the art with all his being, oft expressing a true fondness for the cinematic experience and the emotional power of great film.

I admire Ken’s drive and ambition to realize his visions, which, despite his natural talent, frequently feel born from pure hard work rather than innate ability. This sometimes lends him an underdog quality--the spice of imperfection--that only makes me love him the more. It’s this ineffable feature that attracts me the most to his work and his persona.

Colleagues and friends who make up his quasi-repertoire reference his charm and professionalism on sets, being a firm, but collaborative director unlikely to be continually ensconced behind the phalanx of the “video village.” When given the chance, Ken will chat up a storm about his process and inspirations for projects. He’s a fount of entertaining anecdotes about working with his grade-A cast members and crew. His DVD/BluRay audio commentaries (Dead Again, Hamlet, Thor, Murder on the Orient Express, Belfast) are fascinating, informative, and fun. I especially get a kick out of whenever he mentions another film that he loves, and I invariably seek out his recommendations to get a feel for his artistic sensibilities.

Of all his numerous films, I would recommend three lesser-known ones that I feel best illustrate his energy and essential values as a filmmaker.

A Midwinter’s Tale aka In The Bleak Midwinter (1995) is one of my absolute favorites. It’s the first of only two of his original feature screenplays (the other being Belfast). He casts his theatre friends as a motley crew of actors who set out to put on an experimental production of Hamlet in an abandoned church due for demolition in a middling countryside town. The film itself is a low-budget black and white experiment, and it sparkles with non-stop screwball wit delivered by the effervescent likes of Michael Maloney, Nicholas Farrell, Richard Briers, and Joan Collins. Packed with Shakespeare and theatre geek references, it lovingly captures the Herculean effort (and Sisyphean struggles) of a life on stage spent balancing how to feed both the body and the soul. Shortly after this was released, Ken started filming his “eternity” Hamlet, and it’s clear that Midwinter served as an outlet for the inevitable frustrations that come with adapting Shakespeare, even if you’re definitively NOT excising anything from the text. It’s a cinch to see Maloney (who has appeared in five of Ken’s films) as Ken’s avatar in this—the exuberant captain of what becomes a Theseus’ ship that earnestly sails through stormy waters to opening night.

Fun fact: 18 years later, after a ten-year break from Shakespeare, Ken directed and performed in a bold and gritty Macbeth in a deconsecrated church in Manchester for National Theatre Live. I was lucky enough to have seen this incredible production (through a live feed in a UK moviehouse), and although it had a far higher budget than the Hamlet in Midwinter, it had all the spirit and heart of that ragtag band, bringing the original grand and creepy concept to life in full color.

The Magic Flute (2006), the grand and daring English-language adaptation of Mozart’s famous opera, is the quintessential example of an imperfect but impressive entry in Sir Ken’s varied oeuvre. It is very Branagh from beginning to end. Much like the sadly underappreciated Love’s Labour’s Lost (2000), it showcases his irrepressible love for classic film sensibilities in regards to high romance, language and musicality. His old buddy Stephen Fry wrote the English translation of the libretto, which is as fanciful and cheeky as you’d expect. Ken cast real, renowned opera singers and performers with no filmmaking experience, so he cut his own work out for himself. It was also the first motion picture version of the opera intended for cinematic release (Ingmar Bergman’s wildly successful 1975 version was originally made for television).

While it had a decidedly mixed reception and consequentially, found only a tiny audience, Magic Flute most likely convinced Disney that Ken was the right man to helm their live-action Swarovski-crystal-encrusted adaptation of Cinderella (2015), which went on to become one of his most successful films at the box office.

Fun fact: an earlier live-action Disney adaptation, 101 Dalmatians (1996) was being filmed at the same time at the same studio lot as Ken’s Hamlet. Script consultant and Shakespeare scholar Russell Jackson in his production diary recalled some quirky inter-set encounters with Glenn Close and dozens of furry actors.

All is True (2018) is what I’d call a well-researched and affectionately crafted real-person fanfiction tale about our dear William Shakespeare’s final days after retiring from his entertainment business in London. Ken directs and acts (as Shakespeare of course) in this contemplative family drama written by Ben Elton, the most excellent boffin behind the hilarious BBC Shakespeare parody program Upstart Crow (2016). Ben and Ken discussed embarking on a project together while Ken was filming a cameo appearance on Crow (which was brilliant and perfect), and a screenplay was soon born. It stars Ken’s favorite lady Dame Judi Dench as Shakespeare’s long-suffering wife Anne Hathaway as well as Sir Ian McKellen as the Earl of Southampton—the first time these legendary Sirs have shared the screen together, if you can believe it (holy crap). Ken goes for mise-en-scene inspired by Rembrandt and Vermeer paintings, with much of the lighting reminiscent of Kubrick’s Barry Lyndon (1975).

This film is so elegiac in its themes and tone that for a second I thought Ken was dying and was making his swan song (God save the Sir!). I totally wept when (spoiler alert!) Shakespeare’s family recites that most famous graveside speech from Cymbeline at William’s funeral. The entire film is a tender love letter to the ageless Bard, gilded with references to his plays that oh so subtly wink at Shakespeare nerds. The scene where Will and the Earl share a moment as they each recite Shakespeare’s 29th sonnet to each other is one for the ages. Oh boy. Any Shakespeare scholar who’s read up on the controversy surrounding the subject of the so-called “fair youth” sonnets will recognize and appreciate the pure ache of unrequited love visible in Ken’s eyes. It’s no doubt one of his finest acting moments.

Fun fact: the title of the film is actually the alternate title for the little-known Shakespeare play about Henry VIII, which honestly earns its lack of renown.

It is difficult for me to overstate how inspirational Sir Ken is to me. While my passions for both film and Shakespeare were antecedent, as soon as he entered into my awareness, he became a lodestone, continuously guiding my attention toward my my most profound interests, reminding me of what intellectual pursuits bring me the most satisfaction and delight. And for that, I am most grateful.

You've had an especially fantastic year, Sir Ken, and I wish you many more. Just as you often like to quote from Twelfth Night, "I can no other answer make but thanks, and thanks, and ever thanks."