Ammonite is not just a film; it’s a subtle exploration of intimacy, isolation, and the fierce, unspoken battles of women navigating a man’s world. Directed by Francis Lee, Ammonite (2020) stars Kate Winslet as Mary Anning, a renowned fossil hunter in 19th-century England, and Saoirse Ronan as Charlotte Murchison, a young woman grappling with grief. With a muted color palette and minimalistic dialogue, Ammonite becomes a visual and emotional journey that quietly, yet powerfully, unravels.
Set in the windswept coastal town of Lyme Regis, Ammonite derives its name from the fossilized sea creatures that Mary Anning spent her life unearthing. These ammonites become metaphors for the characters—ancient, layered, and hiding secrets just beneath their surface. As the film unfolds, so too does a passionate yet quiet relationship between Mary and Charlotte, which forms the emotional backbone of the movie.
From the beginning, Ammonite demands patience and attentiveness. Francis Lee’s direction is intentionally sparse, allowing the audience to feel the weight of the silences and the significance of the glances. Ammonite doesn’t rely on dramatic monologues or overt emotional displays. Instead, its emotional impact is built through careful framing, tactile interactions, and an overwhelming sense of physical and emotional coldness that begins to thaw as the relationship between the two women deepens.
Kate Winslet delivers one of her most restrained and raw performances in Ammonite. Her portrayal of Mary Anning is grounded, rugged, and utterly devoid of vanity. Covered in mud, her face often smudged with the grit of the cliffs she climbs, Mary is a woman of science and solitude. Winslet’s embodiment of Mary in Ammonite shows a woman whose passions have been suppressed not only by gendered societal expectations but also by personal trauma. Her guardedness is palpable, and when it finally gives way to vulnerability, the shift is both heartbreaking and beautiful.
Saoirse Ronan’s Charlotte Murchison, on the other hand, begins the film as a passive and ghost-like presence. Sent by her husband to recover her health by the sea, Charlotte appears to be drowning in grief. But as Ammonite progresses, we witness her slow blooming under Mary’s gruff exterior. Ronan, known for her expressive eyes and delicate performances, brings an emotional softness to the film that balances Winslet’s grit. Their chemistry in Ammonite is electric not because it is loud or obvious, but because it is so quietly tender and real.
One of the most compelling aspects of Ammonite is how it handles female desire. The love scenes between Mary and Charlotte are filmed with raw intimacy, not as spectacles, but as honest moments of connection. Francis Lee ensures that these scenes in Ammonite are not male-gazed but are about the characters reclaiming their agency and expressing themselves without fear or shame. It’s a bold portrayal of queer love in a time and setting that denied it, and Ammonite treats it with the utmost sincerity.
Beyond the central romance, Ammonite is rich with symbolic imagery. The ocean, ever-present in the background, represents the vast unknown—the past buried in its depths, and the future yet to be unearthed. The fossils themselves, particularly the ammonites, are symbols of time, resilience, and the stories that survive long after we’re gone. Mary Anning’s devotion to these relics mirrors her inability to connect with people. Yet through Charlotte, she begins to understand that some discoveries cannot be categorized or contained.
Technically, Ammonite is a masterpiece of atmosphere. Cinematographer Stéphane Fontaine captures the desolate beauty of Lyme Regis with haunting precision. The grey skies, the crashing waves, the texture of rock and bone—all contribute to a film that feels tactile and immersive. The score by Dustin O’Halloran and Volker Bertelmann is sparing but effective, enhancing the emotional beats without overpowering the silence that defines much of Ammonite.
The historical context of Ammonite adds another layer of depth. While the film is not strictly biographical, and the romantic relationship between Mary and Charlotte is fictionalized, it raises important questions about whose stories get told and remembered. Mary Anning was a real person, a groundbreaking paleontologist who made significant contributions to science but received little recognition during her lifetime. Ammonite serves as a reclamation of her narrative, imagining her as a fully-formed person with desires, fears, and depth beyond her fossil findings.
Critics of Ammonite have argued that the film is too slow or emotionally distant. But this interpretation misses the point. Ammonite is not trying to be a conventional period drama or a typical romance. It is an introspective film that asks the viewer to sit with discomfort, to observe rather than be told, and to find meaning in the small gestures. The pace of Ammonite mirrors the slow erosion of the coastline—a metaphor for change that happens not with explosions, but with time and persistence.
What makes Ammonite stand out in the crowded field of historical romance dramas is its unapologetic dedication to authenticity. The costumes, designed by Michael O’Connor, are historically accurate without being ornate. The setting is lived-in, not dressed-up. There is no artificial glamour here, just the rawness of life and love. Every element of Ammonite feels intentional, from the worn textures of Mary’s home to the icy touch of the sea spray on Charlotte’s cheeks.
The emotional climax of Ammonite is not loud or melodramatic—it is quiet, internal, and all the more powerful for it. As Mary and Charlotte confront the realities of their lives and the impossibility of permanence, Ammonite doesn’t offer easy resolutions. Instead, it offers honesty. It acknowledges that not all love stories have happy endings, but that doesn’t make them any less meaningful.
Ammonite is also a bold statement on female autonomy. Both Mary and Charlotte, in different ways, are constrained by the limitations imposed upon them by a patriarchal society. Mary’s intellectual contributions are ignored, while Charlotte’s emotions are dictated by her husband’s will. Through their relationship, however, both women begin to reclaim control—over their bodies, their choices, and their futures. Ammonite doesn’t pretend that love can solve everything, but it shows how love can spark change, even if it’s just internal.
As an SEO-optimized analysis, it’s important to highlight that Ammonite has drawn attention for more than just its cinematic qualities. The film has become a point of discussion in LGBTQ+ circles for its portrayal of queer women in history. While there has been some controversy over the speculative nature of the romance, many praise Ammonite for giving voice and space to love stories that are often hidden or ignored. In a world where representation matters, Ammonite offers a tender, respectful depiction that resonates deeply.
In conclusion, Ammonite is a film that rewards patience and emotional sensitivity. It’s not meant for casual viewing, but for those willing to immerse themselves in its quiet world, it offers a profound experience. Kate Winslet and Saoirse Ronan deliver exceptional performances that anchor a story filled with nuance and longing. Francis Lee’s direction ensures that Ammonite remains true to its themes of discovery—both of the natural world and the self.
If you’re seeking a period drama that challenges conventions, honors forgotten histories, and presents queer love with dignity and realism, Ammonite is a must-watch. It might not be loud or flashy, but like the fossils it reveres, its beauty lies in the details that time alone reveals. Ammonite is not just a film; it’s a quiet revolution buried in the sand, waiting to be unearthed.
