“In my heart there was a kind of fighting that would not let me sleep, and should teach there's a divinity that shapes our ends.” I can't say why or how the idea came to me to do the greatest play ever written in a setting of all the junk people no longer need. But I do know it happened around four in the morning and seemed just crazy enough to work. As this production has taken life and come together I see that every once in while it’s important to trust the subconscious and take that leap of artistic faith.
We live in a world of uncertainty. Where every time we turn on a TV another tragedy has struck somewhere in the world. Every time we open a newspaper something bloody is on the front page. Hamlet is play about a country on the edge of war, with unrest within and without threatening a nation that is no longer the power it once was. This is a play about how one man copes with his own tragedy while the rest of the world threatens to cave in around him. Is he crazy? Is he a coward? Is he the hero, or the villain? “There is a special providence in the fall of a sparrow...”
We would like to give a very warm thanks to our title sponsor DeVaul Publishing, Inc. and the East County Journal. Your contributions allow this show to be.
“And yet to me, what is this quintessence of dust?” (Hamlet, 2.2)
We live in a world of uncertainty. Where every time we turn on a TV another tragedy has struck somewhere in the world. Every time we open a newspaper something bloody is on the front page. Hamlet is play about a country on the edge of war, with unrest within and without threatening a nation that is no longer the power it once was. This is a play about how one man copes with his own tragedy while the rest of the world threatens to cave in around him. Is he crazy? Is he a coward? Is he the hero, or the villain? “There is a special providence in the fall of a sparrow...”
We would like to give a very warm thanks to our title sponsor DeVaul Publishing, Inc. and the East County Journal. Your contributions allow this show to be.
“And yet to me, what is this quintessence of dust?” (Hamlet, 2.2)