Simon Stone’s beautiful, heartfelt, poignant, and incredibly emotional feature, Elsinore, playing at BFI London Film Festival, carries more emotional power in a single scene than most films can muster in their entire runtime.
Ian Charleson was just 40 when AIDS took him from us in January 1990. An acclaimed actor on both the stage and screen, Charleson brought us an enviable array of memorable performances, from Sky Masterson in Guys and Dolls (1982) to Charlie Andrews in Gandhi (1982), and from Brick in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof opposite Lindsay Duncan (1988) to Eric Liddell in Chariots of Fire (1981), the movie that would follow him throughout his entire career.
Ian Charleson was one of those rare actors who could effortlessly move from stage to screen and back again, a captivating performer and a passionate artist. Charleson believed in the power of performance, and he proved how transformative, urgent, and powerful it could be during his final months in 1989, when he took on the role of Hamlet at the National Theatre, knowing his health was deteriorating as his battle with AIDS neared its final act.
That performance at the National Theatre and Charleson’s brave offstage battle to ensure it went ahead despite his failing health sits at the heart of Simon Stone’s beautiful, heartfelt, poignant, and incredibly emotional feature, Elsinore. Led by the outstanding Andrew Scott, supported by a truly exceptional ensemble cast featuring Olivia Colman, Billie Piper, Johnny Flynn, Juliet Stevenson and Monica Dolan, to name just a few, Elsinore isn’t just one of the best films of the year; it’s one of the most human and emotionally devastating. Like All of Us Strangers, Elsinore is a film that should see Scott and Stone win big during awards season. So one can only hope it isn’t sidelined by many award voters as All of Us Strangers was.
Opening in 1989, a production of “Hamlet” at London’s National Theatre was set to star Daniel Day-Lewis. However, during a scene between Hamlet and the ghost of his father, Day-Lewis froze, then walked offstage and never returned. The exact reasons for Day-Lewis’s abrupt departure remain somewhat of a theatrical mystery. Still, his exit threw Richard Eyre’s (Johnny Flynn) production into turmoil and opened a door to Ian Charleson (Scott).
Charleson had played Hamlet fifteen years before, as his career was building. Yet he had always been disappointed by his performance, believing he was “too young” for the role. Now, suddenly and out of the blue, the opportunity to return to the stage as Hamlet had come into view, but it was also just as his first Kaposi sarcoma lesion appeared on his temple, a sign that the HIV infection he was diagnosed with in 1986 had now progressed to AIDS.
It’s important to state at this point that, at the time of Charleson’s diagnosis, HIV and AIDS treatments and care were in their infancy, and in the late 80s no adequate treatments existed. HIV was a death sentence for so many; in fact, the highest number of AIDS-related deaths in the UK occurred between 1994 and 1995, with more than 1,700 deaths in a single year. Charleson knew he was dying, but he also knew he had one last performance to give.
Charleson, like many actors, musicians and creatives of the time, had not been wholly open about his sexuality or his diagnosis. That didn’t mean he was in the closet; his friends, including his casting director and closest friend Patsy (the wonderful Billie Piper), knew, but in wider circles, Charleson kept his private life private. This earned the disdain of past collaborators such as Derek Jarman (David Dawson), who believed the way to challenge discrimination and oppression was for celebrities to be out and honest. Yet Charleson’s decision was understandable given the public attitudes to HIV, AIDS and homosexuality at the time.
Charleston felt the need to tell Eyre that the opportunity to play Hamlet came just as AIDS was beginning to take its toll. Eyre had his misgivings, not about Charleson’s talent or the authority he would bring to Hamlet, but about the highly pressured performance and the energy needed to pull it off night after night on the Olivier Stage at the National. However, despite those misgivings, Eyre agreed, and rehearsals began for what was to become one of the finest performances of Hamlet ever seen at the National Theatre.
At the same time, knowing his time was limited, Charleson approached Dr Margaret Johnson (Olivia Colman), the first doctor at the Royal Free Hospital to specialise in HIV/AIDS. Johnson had developed a new holistic care programme for those living with HIV and AIDS via a specialist unit, and her tough, no-nonsense approach led to new treatments that saw life extended. It’s fair to say that when Charleson announced to Johnson he planned to play Hamlet at the National, her advice was clear: “absolutely not.” Yet, as Charleson said, “I would rather die of Hamlet than die of AIDS.
Stone’s Elsinore powerfully testifies that one’s contribution to life should always be remembered over the condition that ended it. Yet we all know that at the time, the newspapers fed on AIDS related stories, painting those who died as homosexual liars who suffered due to their deviance. Charleson’s desire to climb the mountain of playing Hamlet just as his body failed was a defiant cry that AIDS would not define his final act, but Shakespeare would. The fact that Hamlet itself is a story of mortality, death and the psychological toll of action and regret only further adds weight to this being Charleson’s artistic swansong.
At the heart of this highly emotional story is Scott’s sublime and powerful performance. Scott understands the drive of Charleson to leave something more behind than “Famous actor dies of AIDS in secret.” Watching Scott wrestle with the need to complete his final performances while slowly succumbing to the illness he knew would end his days isn’t just emotionally charged; it’s as life-affirming as it is devastating. It’s a powerful reminder of all those we lost, the talent, the energy and life that AIDS stole – but it’s also a reminder that theatre, the life-force of entertainment, responded to the AIDS crisis in a very different way than film and TV. While film and TV ostracised many people it had once embraced due to AIDS, theatre wrapped its arms around them, never giving up on their drive, determination and talent.
Every minute of Stone’s film is stunningly crafted, with every creative choice a masterstroke, from Stefan Gregory’s powerful score to Mike Eley’s intimate photography. Stone’s film places the reality and humanity of Charleson’s story centre stage, without feeling the need to embellish or distract from the rawness and reality of his final performance and choices, whether that be the moment he finally confides in his parents following pneumonia or leaving the stage as the crowd erupts in applause only to be sick into a bucket, his body exhausted and frail, his mind sharp and eager. It is the raw honesty, drive and belief in the power of performance that make Elsinore one of the best films of 2026.
As Charleson reads Act 5, Scene 2 of Hamlet to Margaret Johnson, we see his acceptance of what is to come: “Not a whit. We defy augury. There is a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, ’tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come. The readiness is all. Since no man of aught he leaves knows, what is ’t to leave betimes? Let be. Let be, Scott’s Charleson repeats, as Hamlet’s acceptance of fate and readiness for what lies beyond mirror his own.
It’s just one scene in Elsinore that carries more power than many films can muster in their entire runtime, and one of the scenes that makes this film so special. Ian Charleson died just seven weeks after completing his run of Hamlet at the National Theatre. His memory, and the memory of all those artists we lost, lives on through this exquisite, tender and life-affirming motion picture. Good night, sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.
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