It may seem a joy to work in what you love. But common knowledge tells us to be careful what we wish for. Behind the door of passion waits an avalanche of work. Real work. The kind that lasts a full day in the cold, with phlegm in every pore and a head that pounds.
And still, in the midst of it, you hear yourself say out loud:
We are in no rush here. Take all the time you need.
Marvel or mayhem? Truth or fiction?
Truth, my love.
This is not war. Not the mines. Not the sweat of a field. This is something stranger and, in its way, just as human: standing once again in the presence of man-made mirth on a stage. Hamlet.
It was during such a time that I found myself selling tea and crossing paths with the formidable Ellie J known to many as Clown Daddy. It is true: she created, edited, directed, designed, and performed this massive undertaking on her own.
So what had I to do with it?
We met first in passing, an exchange of theatrical whimsy, a mutual spark, and a promise to reunite if the moment called for it. The call came well after the Solstice had been put to bed. It was the voice of someone deeply capable, yet quietly uncertain about the work ahead.
The task was simple: watch the show, and help bring clarity and strength to a week away production, at the Throckmorton Theatre in Mill Valley, that deserved both.
The terms were simpler still.
I would offer my fullest feedback. If the feedback proved useful, pay the fee and we would work together. If not, pay nothing and keep my goodwill.
The show unfolded before me, and I offered the deepest cut of thought I could muster.
The first truth was unavoidable: the premise had to change.
The production framed itself as a mishap, an abandoned show where the cast failed to arrive, leaving Clown Daddy alone. The result was a constant state of panic and apology, a performance trapped in anxiety over its own existence.
That could not stand.
The only way forward was a full-bodied YES.
Not Oh no, I’m alone….but Fire everybody. I’m doing this myself. Narcissist me! No! You think just because I am playing Hamlet and firing the cast that I’m a narcissist!
After all, Hamlet is self-involved, indecisive, brilliant, maddening. Placing him in a position of chosen authority with the actor playing him questioning the limits of their reach good fun.
And though only one human actor stood onstage, there were truly three performers at work: one actor, two puppets, and one puppeteer.
These cloth companions were not decoration. They were agents of chaos and clarity. With the script cut, adapted, simplified, modernized, yet still steeped in poetry, the puppets demanded, from the very start, the right to rearrange and mangle the text as they saw fit.
Or else they weren’t doing the show.
This single permission cracked the piece open. Comedy erupted alongside tragedy. Order sparred with rebellion. The “by-the-book” Hamlet contended with an unruly cast who refused to behave.
Much of this direction took shape in the amphitheater behind the Mill Valley Library.
Four days later, the standing ovation arrived.
WATCH the Applause :Hamlet Clown ENd
https://www.instagram.com/clowndaddypresents/?hl=en