"It's been a long time since I've read a more complicated and tangled play than this one. In the Frenchman's autobiographical work, finished only two weeks before his death, we can see the extension of French literature and philosophy and the power of artistic autism. (…) Varnas was able to construct an altar from the play's most important excerpts on which the protagonist, Lui, crucifies himself. (…) The production undulates and surges like water - its rhythm and gestures are beautiful; it's calm and genuine, simple and tormenting. This performance suffers from love."

Daiva Šabasevičienė, "The Poetry of Death and its Apotheosis", Krantai, No. 3, 2001) "In 'Distant Land', the autumn is present in every form - both metaphorical and physical. There should be colours of Indian (as French would say) summer all around Lui's felt-upholstered train carriage in which he rides back to his native village. But there is also the early and shining autumn of a man who can depart without much regret, while still fully conscious of himself and others, while still having the energy and concentration to bid farewell, uttering truths and not wanting to hurt anybody, and not revealing that he is being forced to leave this world for good."

Vaidas Jauniškis, "Return to Autumn", Kauno diena, 20 October 2001

"It's maturity. Perhaps not a pretty word, but I can't find any closer to describe the phenomenon of Gintaras Varnas's Distant Land at the Long Hall of the Kaunas Drama Theatre. (…) It seems that it wasn't Varnas who worked with the actors but Stanislavski; Brecht, or Meyerhold. The classical technique of mental transformation and detachment, almost like Weill's songs; besides - it's a one-man show, gymnastics that is well-nigh biomechanical. It's the most authentic theatre of our time, forged from the last century's aesthetic and ethical scenic experiences."

Rasa Paukštytė, "You Are the Distant Land", Literatura ir menas, 12 October 2001