Why HAMPTON Matters as a Film
I didn’t write HAMPTON just to retell a classic—I wrote it to reclaim a narrative.
This story takes the bones of Shakespeare’s Hamlet and rebuilds them in a place I know intimately: the streets, the politics, the family secrets, the grief that lingers long after the obituary. In this version, the palace is a drug empire, the ghost is a street legend, and the son doesn’t just question his fate—he fights to redefine it.
HAMPTON matters because it gives cinematic weight to voices too often confined to the margins. It shows that legacy, betrayal, and revenge don’t just exist in castles—they play out on corners, in barber shops, in quiet stares across the dinner table. This isn’t about royalty—it’s about survival, truth, and the price of silence.
What I Hope It Sparks
I want this film to disrupt.
I want it to wake up those who think they know our stories—and show them the poetry in our pain, the strategy behind our survival, the ghost in the grief.
If HAMPTON makes one young storyteller pick up a pen…
If it makes one producer say, “This is the kind of story we’ve been missing” …
If it makes someone feel seen…
Then it’s already done its job.
