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On Sunday a magical closing will take place at the Grand Theatre stage of GOGOLFEST. Musical and theatrical performance, which the audience will see, is difficult to describe in simple terms. This combination, interpenetration of the birth of a new long old friend - theater, music, visual art. The best thing about this action tell metaphorically fabulous line:

"Dreams are like birds – they are free. They are nobody’s but they are for everyone. They haven’t got nor home nor dwelling place – they live everywhere. It is impossible to catch them but once by the power of some phantasmagoric and miraculous grace they visit each one of us. Dreams are like swiftly running clouds change each moment and their flight like a breath of a wind or run of waves is unpredictable. One cannot hold them in none of realities of our consciousness like one cannot hold water in a palm. They are whimsical and willful but that only makes stronger the power of transformation hidden in them that only makes more stunning that passage – jump over? flight over? – into another being, not less or, perhaps, even more “ real” that makes tremble the soul of a charmed wanderer on lost roads. Love and death, pain and happiness, dreams and mysterious call of infinity, endless number of lives that are waiting for us and labyrinths of roads, ways involving into unseen worlds, incomprehensible facets of us, our own images covered by mysteries meet in dreams, on these crossroads of Eternity.
Life is weaved from dreams, from that parti-colored and light, finest and weightless material not subject to logic or time, all changeable and all changing.

Gay home fuss, mystic strictness of pictures of all kinds of styles created with the help of paintings, art objects, photos, actor’ s play, masks and decorations as well as with a help of video and laser visual effects including 3D, bitter severity of husbands leaving for a war and immeasurable loneliness of their staying wives, bewitching unruliness of dancing couples as if locked forever in their own world and doomed for a one endless waltz, solemnly lofty vocalizes of DakhaBrakha – ironic and at the same time carrying a suggestion of something infernal, rushing up into that Height that hasn’t got an earthly name – pacifying and touching lullabies as if overheard in some fairy-tale where time stands still when it seems that Silence itself calms all the perturbed souls, flying Gogol’s crosses and appearance of himself in suddenly transforming actors taking not only an outward image of the great mystic but also his spirit – this show is itself one incredibly beautiful and unforgettable dream."