H Is For Hawk

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https://www.cinemanova.com.au/films/h-is-for-hawk

Date Reviewed: 13/05/2026

H Is For Hawk arrives as a study of grief, quietly observing how one moves through the world after sudden loss.

Following the death of her father in 2007, Helen Macdonald withdraws from society and into the disciplined, demanding act of training a goshawk. At first, it feels like escape — an attempt to impose structure on a life that has lost its foundation, where the ground no longer feels secure beneath her feet.

Enter Claire Foy, who is superb as Helen. She plays her with controlled, almost stoic precision — the very British instinct to keep calm and carry on, to remain composed in public while the internal world quietly unravels. There is nothing theatrical in her grief. Instead, it sits beneath the surface: in her stillness, her exhaustion, the narrowing of her life to what can be managed hour by hour, day by day. It is a performance of restraint, and all the more powerful for it.

Anyone who has lost a loved one will recognise the film’s central dislocation — that sense of the world continuing in full colour while you move through it slightly off-centre, in a kind of sepia haze. The film never forces emotion; rather, it trusts silence, distance, and observation, most clearly reflected in Mabel’s watchful, unblinking presence.

Director Philippa Lowthorpe frames the British countryside with quiet splendour — a mosaic of rolling fields, hedgerows, and moorland light breaking through low cloud. Around Cambridge in particular, there is a softness to the imagery that feels almost literary, as though the air itself has absorbed the texture of old books and memory; at times it feels possible to smell ink and damp paper on the breeze.

Brendan Gleeson brings warmth and dry wit to Helen’s father in flashback, grounding their relationship in shared humour and intellectual ease rather than sentimentality. His absence is felt all the more deeply for its understatement, their chemistry is unforced and deeply affecting.

Denise Gough is quietly exceptional as Helen’s friend — steady, non-judgemental, and unwavering. She offers a kind of friendship that is ever present without intrusion, calming rather than performative, utterly sincere. It is a reminder that grief is rarely carried alone; often it is held by those who simply remain constant, patiently beside us, holding us until once again our feet can touch the ground.

The film’s most mesmerising sequences are also its softest. In Helen’s cramped apartment, she struggles to form an initial bond with Mabel. Concerned the bird will not eat, she moves between anxiety and control until a friend’s presence allows the moment to shift and the goshawk finally feeds. It is here that Helen’s guarded, fight-or-flight responses begin to soften into something more observant — a quiet, instinctive understanding of wildness rather than resistance to it.

Mabel herself is unforgettable. The cinematography captures her with extraordinary intimacy: the intelligence in her eyes, the tension in her feathers, the constant alertness of a creature that misses nothing. She is never reduced to symbol or sentiment. She remains entirely, uncompromisingly wild — and it is precisely this that makes her connection with Helen so compelling.

A haunting, understated score runs beneath the film like weather across open country — leaves loosening in the wind, seeds dropping onto earth, the slow turn of the seasons.

Ultimately, H Is For Hawk is remarkable not for revelation, but for restraint — in its performances, its storytelling, and its precise attention to the natural world. It lingers like landscape after rain: calm, detailed, and deeply affecting, where grief, friendship, and wilderness sit together in the same shifting light.

This review is dedicated to Sir David Attenborough, in honour of his lifelong dedication to wildlife on his 100th Anniversary.

Reviewed by Vivien Lynch