The premiere of "Silence Reigns at the Heights" comes with a sense of relief. Nothing has remained of the scratch walls on the margins of true taste that remained following Zarathustra at the Stary Theater in Krakow.
It was not the degradation of reality that was so unbearable in that play. The director's idea of combining Nietzsche's complex works with Einar Schleef's play led to a swamp full of pseudo-philosophy which was dumbed down to the extreme and turned into cheap editorializing. True, as Lupa's apologists claims, he once again stepped outside of the boundaries of what is theatrical, penetrating completely new, non-stage territories. Anyone, however, who preserved even a semblance of common sense had to shrug at this praise. It was almost as though the worshippers met the worshiped in the theater. One had the uneasy feeling of being in the company of a sloganeering sect. Earlier, in the "Unfinished play for an Acto. A Spanish Play" things were not much better. "The Swan," in Lupa's rendition transformed Chekhov into something unbearable. Yasmin Reza's play, performed the next night, seemed to be written below the artist's talents. It was all as though an obvious attempt was made to break