by Ramona Abrudan, photo: Orlando Edward
directed by Declan Donnellan
1. To be… or how to begin with the end.
Declan Donnellan overturns expectations: the curtain doesn’t rise first, but the echo of the famous question—“To be or not to be.” Yet here, it is no longer a question—it is a statement of intent. Vlad Udrescu releases it into the air like fine dust, and the audience instinctively breathes it in, without hesitation.
2. Hamlet in heels – ridicule as a weapon of lucidity
The first gesture: the body. Hamlet steps onto the stage wearing red heels—not a cross-dressing gimmick, nor an ironic twist. It’s an open wound. The concept of identity is torn apart from the start, and Udrescu plays Hamlet as a pure idea, as a symptom, a mask that cannot be removed.
3. “The Mousetrap” – a game without prey
The play within the play becomes a maze without exit. In this theatre of mirrors, the hunter loses sight of the prey, and the spectator is no longer merely a viewer. Who is guilty if everyone is acting? Who is sincere if everyone is repeating?
4. Ophelia – unraveling between words
Ophelia (Teodora Bălan) doesn’t fall—she dissolves. She evaporates between lines, like the echo of a pain that can no longer be spoken. She does not cry. Nor does she ask for help. The audience cloaks her in their silence.
5. The duel – the final act of understanding
No spectacle. No grand gestures. The encounter between Hamlet and Laertes (Alex Stoicescu) is a kind of liturgy in which only their bodies bear witness. There is no heroism, only a mute effort of recognition. Truth happens in flesh, not in words.
6. Horatio is absent. Silence no longer has a voice.
One of the production’s boldest decisions: the disappearance of Horatio. He is no longer the final witness, no longer the storyteller. The story is not passed on—it fades. And “The rest is silence” is no longer heard, but it lingers—in the spectator’s throat.
7. Music – the breath of the performance
Cari Tibor’s composition does not accompany, comment, or stir forced emotions. It is a subterranean presence that pulses. The music does not fill the void—it brings it to life.
8. A post-industrial Elsinore
Nick Ormerod’s set design rejects grandiose symbols. Hoodies replace cloaks, flickering neon lights replace chandeliers. Hamlet unfolds in a deserted warehouse, where tragedy resides in dust and rust. No glory remains—only residue.
9. A cast without vanity
Claudiu Mihail (Claudius), Ramona Drăgulescu (Gertrude), Raluca Păun (Polonius)—they perform without trying to prove anything. Just sharp, lucid, living presences. No theatrics, only a physical honesty that sometimes cuts deeper than words.
10. Donnellan – the director of the empty space
Donnellan doesn’t reinterpret. He doesn’t modernize. He simply extracts everything that can be explained, leaving behind only what escapes definition. Questions dissolve. Answers fall silent. And from that silence, emotion is born—an emotion that lingers long after the curtain falls.
