In essence, this is a play for old dogs. For folks who aren't embarrassed to admit that under the mask of "pragmatism," they remain simplistic and nave. The type of viewer for whom the play is essentially made ought to enjoy it. This is a type of theater where different worlds are born; where a gallery poses as the Brooklyn bridge, on which a taxi is driving, ridden by an unshaven hippy.
There are actors who pretend to me animals boarding the ark, and you get a sense that these actors are having fun while doing it. They manage to pull off performing as animals thanks only to simple costumes and wonderful movements thought up by Leszek Bzdyla. Andrzej Witkowski paints a cameral, partially nave, partially grotesque view of a Jewish market where one can almost smell the countryside. Plumes of smoke rise from the kitchen, and little mills strapped to the metal cage on the back of a wandering bird handler spin with a squeak, almost as though they were themselves birds. The viewer can't really be displeased by these sights, nor can adults not find themselves moved or grumble about the play taking too simple a route or being banal. Adults need only recover their inner child and look upon the play as a preschooler would. Only then will the viewer realize what a fantastical and wonderfully beautiful world they are seeing on stage, even though nothing in this world is sweet,