In Elsinore, the new biopic on Scottish actor Ian Charleson (1949-1990), director Simon Stone thankfully avoids most of the usual cliches of the genre to create a deeper cinematic experience.
Anchored by Stephen Beresford's (Pride, 2014) script, with a career-defining performance by Andrew Scott in the lead, the director manages to elevate a typically uninspired genre of filmmaking. Beresford centres his script in the final act of Charleson's life and career, giving Stone the opportunity to create a taut, absorbing cinematic experience.
After his massive success in Chariots of Fire (1981), Charleson went through a professional drought in the latter part of the 1980s. On top of that, he was diagnosed with HIV. Although the disease was proving too powerful, eventually turning into AIDS, Charleson was a fighter.
Elsinore opens quite dramatically as Daniel Day Lewis walks off the stage mid-performance in Shakespeare's most famous tragedy, Hamlet. Theatre fans will adore the backstage banter as everyone involved in the production chimes in with their own gibes after Lewis' shocking action.
The play's director, Richard Eyre (Johnny Flynn), is understandably distraught. He and Charleson, who also had a distinguished career as a stage actor, know each other and Eyre is certain that Charleson is a more-than-worthy replacement. Trouble is that Charleson, being a closeted gay man, has not revealed his health issues, which are getting worse. But he insists on playing Hamlet on stage. It's a pinnacle for many actors.
Andrew Scott, who performed the role on stage himself, now tackles the role of a lifetime playing an actor who performs the role of his lifetime. A bitter irony arises from Charleson's insistence on acting in this play that famously stares death in the face.
Stone weaves together Charleson's private life with a sense of his existence as someone who was surrounded by a supportive, understanding community. At home, his best friend, casting director Patsy Pollock (Billie Piper), comforts and nurses him, organizing meals with chosen family members. Outside, he goes to clubs, hangs out with his close friend Georgie (Luke Thompson) and interacts with other members of the gay community. His friends are sick, too. Stone develops a strong sense of camaraderie, even in the midst of the AIDS pandemic. There's a heartbreaking warmth evident here.
When Charleson does have to go into the hospital, he must contend with the formidable Dr. Margaret Johnson (Olivia Colman). She maintains that her job is to extend his life as long as possible; she has no sense of the play's importance to him, nor does she care. She refuses to believe that he can possibly undertake such a demanding role, insisting that it will only harm him. Dr. Johnson clearly has zero interest in theatre.
Charleson also has a complicated relationship with filmmaker Derek Jarman (David Dawson). Jarman acts like the conscience of the community, admonishing the actor, sometimes pleading with him, to publicly share his status as a celebrity with AIDS. He argues that it would help the community, and his arguments ring true in the context of the film.
The tension between the two men is palpable but deeply loving. These are individuals who clearly hate what the other is doing but who can't help but love each other despite all that. Jarman was also known for his creative gardening in the rocky terrain of Dungeness. He gives Charleson a thistle, a tough plant that survives harsh surroundings: It's emblematic of struggle. As he does so, Jarman asserts that it proves that nature itself is queer.
It's Stone's formal approach that elevates the film beyond the conventional biopic. He employs a deliberate and often severe strategy where Charleson is depicted as trapped in the frame. He literally confines Scott in each close-up, surrounding him with the hard lines of the massively brutalist architecture around him.
Even in his own apartment, he is engulfed by stark lighting, as if he were a doomed character in a noir thriller. Shot in close-up, Scott is able to arouse a great deal of empathy, especially as a character fighting the inevitable. The structural friction enhances his struggles. Both director and actor work in concert to actualize Charleson's existential nightmare. It's only on the stage where Charleson breaks loose of the literal restraints; his soul may break free but that's when we witness the toll the performance takes on his body.
Stone intercuts Hamlet's famous soliloquies throughout the film, using them as accents to underscore the film's emotional beats. It feels truer to the spirit of the film to do so: To have Scott simply stand and recite them would be like watching filmed theatre. This way is much more respectful to Charleson's memory. After all, Scott is performing them not as he would but as the deceased actor might have. This enhances the viewer's experience of Charleson's life and struggles.
Shakespeare's own meditations on mortality resonate deeper; they comment on what's happening, not just to Charleson but to the entire queer community during the pandemic. In this way, the ancient texts gain a currency. Stone is clever in his use of the 'To be or not to be' speech as he ends the film. But one can't help wishing that he simply had more faith in his brilliant lead actor to carry the weight of the finale.
If there's one frustrating element of Elsinore, it's the fact that the director inevitably incorporates sappy string music. If Stone just would've controlled himself in those final moments, the film would really have soared. As it stands, it's Andrew Scott's film -- it's a haunting, unforgettable performance -- with director Simon Stone providing a nearly excellent framework.
The film enjoys its Canadian premiere at the 2026 Toronto International Film Festival.