Morphium

"I am I, and my world no longer exists. In this world, I am not I."

Konstantin Willemann is a thirty-year-old Varsovian in October 1939. A bon vivant with a taste for fine wines, fast cars, and his mother's money. Above all, he loves his Polish wife and son - but he also loves morphine in his veins and beneath him the body of the Jewish prostitute Salome. A black angel whispers in his ear words even more intoxicating and destructive than a syringe of liquid happiness.

A descendant of a German aristocrat and a Polonized Silesian woman, he fights for Poland in a Nazi uniform; yet he is neither Pole nor German, neither rebel nor traitor. Who is Konstantin Willemann, Kostya, Kostik? Someone, no one. He exists in the world for one reason: to live. His being serves only his being.

This multi-genre production is based on Szczepan Twardoch's novel of the same name about a weak, torn man caught up in great historical events - and in the blurred figure of Kostik one can glimpse a man tormented by the madness of the 21st century.