Producer: Teatrul METROPOLIS, Bucharest

Cast: Adelin Tudorache, Alex Iezdimir, Eduard Chimac/Andrei Ostrowski, Hunor Varga/Tiberius Zavelea, Iustin Danalache, Vlad Ionuț Popescu/Robert Avram

Director: Andrei Măjeri

Set Design: Adrian Balcău

Choreography: Andrea Gavriliu

Sound Design: Adrian Piciorea

Duration: 1h 35 min (no intermission)

Recommended age: 16+

UNITER Award – Best Directing: Andrei Măjeri

UNITER Nomination – Best Debut: Adelin Tudorache

Synopsis:

A father brutalized by hard labor and the impoverished environment in which he grew up. A son who longs for his father’s affection, affection the father is incapable of offering in the way the son needs. Who Killed My Father tells the story of a tumultuous father-son relationship, shaped by themes such as community belonging, compassion, and toxic masculinity. The text is a dramatization of the eponymous novel by French author Édouard Louis, widely acknowledged for its strong autobiographical component.

“Who Killed My Father, Édouard Louis’s autobiographical novel, is a letter that never receives a reply, a violent cry from a son to his father. The author slaloms, at dizzying speed, through his own past, entering sensitive areas of intimacy and trauma. Now a bestseller, translated into multiple languages and adapted for the stage across the world, Who Killed My Father explores personal history from a politically and philosophically charged perspective. These intimate stories carry the weight of critical reflection.

I placed the action in a gymnasium (designed by Adrian Balcău), a space symbolic of obsession with the body. This meta-space reflects the dynamism of the son’s narrative, contrasting with the father’s physical and emotional immobility. (…)

The performance is a harrowing ode to the father, condemned without appeal. Shame, violence, and precarity act as catalysts in the arc of tension between a father doomed to repeat the lives of the men before him, and a son who became a writer. It seems that everything separates them. The author lacks a present, but his greatest privilege is having known a life without privilege. It is to this early existence, in the territories of likely failure, that he obsessively returns. His glass of suffering is sipped in small, painful gulps.”

– Andrei Măjeri, director of the performance