My third chapter offers a comparative analysis of two Ophelian plays that centre sound and madness using different technological means and moving towards different representational ends. One of these two case studies shifts locales to a recent play at the Schaubühne theatre in Berlin: Alice Birch and Katie Mitchell’s Ophelia’s Zimmer (2015), a recent adaptation of Hamlet which depicts the offstage events leading up to Ophelia’s death, set within a prison-like bedroom that slowly fills up with water and is eventually enclosed in a large plexiglass box. The show uses traditional Foley techniques, featuring an enclosed room upstage where cast members create sound effects and throw their voices. In adapting Hamlet, the show moves away from text and towards the aural in other ways. Indeed, the show’s director, Vicky Featherstone, has called the performance “text light” (“CultureWhisper,” n.pag). Letters to Ophelia, for example, are delivered to her room in cassette form and played over a vintage radio cassette player. Following Bridget Escolme’s essay, “Ophelia Confined: Madness and Infantilization in Some Versions of Hamlet,” I suggest that the character is confined not just spatially, but aurally. Drowned in a sound world beyond her creation—and crafted offstage by men—we witness Ophelia at the centre of various sonic forms of control. Escolme suggests that while these kinds of adaptations “may seek to foreground the oppressive treatment of Ophelia by the men in the play, they finally tend to reiterate the unthreatening child-likeness to which the court in Hamlet would like to reduce Ophelia, to which Victorian imagery attempted to confine her” (179). This chapter’s second case study is one of Janet Cardiff’s audio walks, Her Long Black Hair (2004), which Laura Dorwart has described as a work that exemplifies the Mad Pride movement, and which presents listeners with a “disruptive” and “subversive” representation of the title character (4). However, as with many other representations of this character, including Mitchell’s, this Ophelia is likewise “frozen” and lacks “the potential for true escape”—though Cardiff’s refusal of silence can be interpreted as one measure of freedom (12). Dorwart argues that Cardiff’s walk invites listeners to participate in the imagined community of people who share non-normative ways of thinking (13). In this chapter, I compare Mitchell’s and Cardiff’s adaptations of the Hamlet story to identify points of dis/continuity between them and situate them within feminist scholarship. In both case studies, I focus on the two artists’ different approaches to staging mad listening, with particular attention to claims around intersubjectivity and listening as/with/to the mad.