Don't be dismayed if the political machinations on display in Boris Godunov are confusing. Even with the program notes, unless you're an expert on 16th-century Russian history, you're likely to have trouble following the intricacies of Aleksandr Pushkin's 1825 play, best known for its operatic adaptation by Mussorgsky.

But when the action gets moving in Declan Donnellan's thrilling new production – being presented for an all-too-limited engagement by the Lincoln Center Festival – there's no missing the power and the passion on display.

Staged, like the recent Les Ephémeres, on a long catwalk situated between two sides of the audience at the Park Avenue Armory, the play depicts the power struggle that occurs after the death of Ivan the Terrible. Ultimately succeeding him as czar is Boris Godunov (Aleksandr Feklistov), who may well have murdered Ivan's youngest son, Dmitry, to achieve his ends.

An interloper comes into the picture in the form of a young monk, Grigory (the superb Yevgeny Mironov), pretending to be the grown-up and miraculously alive Dmitry and marshalling the Polish military forces to support his bid for power.

The inspiration of Macbeth is displayed in its most powerful scene, an encounter between Grigory and the seductive, mad Marina (Irina Grineva) in which she denies her favors until he assumes power. It is brilliantly staged here, using a shallow pool in the center of the stage in which the two figures engage in an erotic watery duet that leaves both them and a few audience members soaking wet.

Donnellan, whose acclaimed Cheek by Jowl company has been seen many times at the Brooklyn Academy of Music, invests the proceedings with his usual distinctive touches.

Performed in Russian with English titles, it is staged in modern dress, with newscasters on video screens commenting on the action. A political power struggle is literally depicted as a wrestling match, and Grigory attempts to rally the people in the manner of an effusive TV game-show host.

Although sometimes jarring, these anachronisms are mostly effective, and the ending, in which the audience becomes itself complicit in the proceedings, is deeply haunting.