Text taken from bookhub.ro / author: Alexia Olteanu (12th grade, "Mihai Eminescu" Primary School Buzău)

Some shows don't end at the magical moment of the curtain falling, the lights going out. They remain in your mind, like an echo that follows you. This is also the case with the show D'ale carnavalului by Ion Luca Caragiale, directed by Vlad Trifaș – a show that makes you laugh, but also prompts reflection – among what people do we live?! in what way do we live?!

From the first minutes, the scene throws you into a world full of hustle and bustle, words and gestures. The setting presents a lively slum, with slamming doors, curious windows and people meddling in each other's lives. Everything is colorful and dynamic, like in a movie that never stops. The light changes with the characters' moods – sometimes warm and cheerful, sometimes cold and sharp, when truths are being told. Most of the time, the light is not enough to hide the flaws of this world.

In the middle of this world is Nae Girimea, the elegant barber who believes he owns everything, especially the hearts of women. He is charming, a sugary swindler, knows what to say, but lives between two women and two lies. He makes Mița Baston believe in pure love, and with Didina Mazu he lives a passion that is only apparently special. Everything seems under control until a stray piece of paper, a simple love note, starts the chaos. From here on, everything gets confused: the loves, the lies and the pride, the whims.

Mița is a dreamy woman, who loves sincerely and suffers when she discovers that she has been deceived. Didina is her opposite – strong, fiery and ready to fight for what she wants. Nae, caught between them, becomes a victim of his own games. The two women, however, fall into the same typology, that of an adulteress.

Pampon is a direct man, driven by anger born of jealousy, but also by a kind of foolish pride. He reacts quickly, causes a scandal, being deep down just a wounded man who doesn't know how to show his pain. Crăcănel is quieter and more indecisive, always confused, because he doesn't know what he feels or what he should do. He has a comical and gentle air, which makes him easy to like. Vlad Trifaș manages to give the play a natural and energetic rhythm. Laughter comes naturally, from situations that we recognize in ordinary life. The actors play with pleasure, and the audience feels this joy of exhausting all their energy to serve the role ideally.

The show captures the idea that life itself is a continuous carnival in which each of us plays a role, according to our social condition. We hide behind appearances, trying to appear happy, intelligent, strong. But, as the director suggests, there comes a moment when the mask slips and we are left face to face with our own face: when we look at ourselves in the mirror at the barbershop.

The ending doesn't necessarily bring peace (it would be hard, after all that commotion!), but rather brings a painful clarity to the entire dramatic "drawing". The applause comes, but it can't cover the thought that everything we saw on stage also exists in us. We laugh, but we laugh at our own mistakes, at our own image games. IL Caragiale, in Vlad Trifaș's vision, no longer scolds us, but shows us – with a gentle smile and a lucid look – how fragile our cardboard world is. Wonderful show!