The Ark still reminds us that we are living in the age of refugees, vagabonds, and nomads, who travel across continents, and warm their souls with memories of a home, be it a spiritual or ethical, heavenly or geographical, real or imaginary one.
In the performance, the symbol of home is a huge winged ship, a multilevel moving stage, a sequence of avatars of Noah’s Ark, which, whenever we close our eyes, can be transformed into Aeneas’ boat, the Mayflower, or a raft made by Cuban boat people off the coast of Florida.
For the nomadic characters, the ark is alternately a home where memories come alive, a temple where everybody addresses their God, or a place of festivity, dance and joy. Enlivened by the actors’ presence, shining with metallic sails, changing shape in the blinking limelight, the ship moves amidst the audience, only to spread its purple wings and leave behind an enduring image of unceasing pilgrims on their way to the promised land.