This Wednesday, the opening play of 2016 Beijing Fringe Festival was on. It was Hamlet.
The director said the play was the Hamlet in his mind so he directed it in his way.
I didn’t enjoy it. I had a feeling that the Hamlet I read was not the same to the Hamlet that the director read. Probably,that's what we say---There is a Hamlet in everyone.
To be or not to be? It is not a question for Hamlet only, it is for everyone who lives in this imperfect world. And at the same time, personally speaking, I think Shakespeare has given us the answer through Hamlet.
What we are going to listen is the famous part of it ---To be or not to be. Take time to listen to it and try to follow. To recite is not our aim. No matter English or Chinese, language is for people to communicate. And drama is for people to feel the charm of applying it.
Hope you enjoy Hamlet the play, but never will have a “to be or not to be” situation. There are other plays are showing in sequence. If you are interested in it, find more information via internet.
I’m going to watch Shakespeare’s Tempest next week.
And hope we have a clear and sunny weekend days.
Happy Friday to everyone.
To be, or not to be—that is the question；
Whether'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die, to sleep-
No more, and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep,
To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub；
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come，
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life；
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th'oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th' unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would these fardels bear
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death-
The undiscover' d country, from whose bourn
No traveler returns-puzzles the will，
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all；
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o' er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard, their currents turn awry
And lose the name of action.