Dr Faustus
In this first stage production from Natural Nylon (the company set up by Jude Law and several other A-list celebs), Hollywood meets 16th-century drama as Law himself essays the title role in Christopher Marlowe‘s version of the Faust legend. It’s a bold move – Dr Faustus is not the easiest of plays and this is a credible attempt.
Director David Lan has opted for the shorter version of two texts (thereby avoiding a lot of tedious ‘comedy’) and for translating most of the Latin – wise choices, though, on the downside, he also permits some glaring gaps.
As for Law, I wanted him to succeed, I really did. Whatever else, he must be commended for attempting a difficult part and for bringing this play to a wider audience. And he nearly pulls it off, especially in the middle of the play, when his Faust revels in his power and knowledge. But his immersion into the part is too slow and conveys more peevishness when disgust and rage are called for.
Neither is he helped by some strange goings on at the close. With no Helen of Troy, Law’s Faustus is left to hug himself and stare into the mirror. What are we to assume? That Faustus is hallucinating or that he really loves only himself? This vagueness is very unsatisfactory. For Marlowe, Helen represents Faustus’ last hope of love and redemption – by doing away with the part, Lan makes Faustus’ final hour on earth somehow less terrible. Nor is Faustus taken to hell at the end, rather he’s left alone, with his grimoire (in a faint parody of the Last Rites), to contemplate damnation.
Despite the wattage of Law’s name, the real star turn of the evening is Richard McCabe‘s rather camp Mephistophilis. This is a performance of some subtlety including an arch seduction of Faustus. There’s a hint of homo-eroticism when McCabe speaks wistfully of Lucifer, and his sly smile when Faustus boasts, “the word ‘damnation’ terrifies not me” speaks volumes.
The five remaining cast members, who play all the other roles between them, provide good support. They deliver some powerful pieces of physical acting, achieving a particularly robust impact during the seven deadly sins scene (which includes the only stage rendition of a fart I’ve ever seen).
However, on balance Lan’s production – and Law’s Faustus – is flawed. Marlowe’s poetry speaks out loud and clear but we don’t get the finished article here. Like Lucifer himself, Faustus overreaches himself and acquires a terrible knowledge. His final horror is that he knows too much and must contemplate an awful eternity – Law doesn’t quite capture that horror.
Of course, it doesn’t really matter what I say. The entire Young Vic season is already a sell-out as Law’s fans have snapped up all the tickets. If you can lay your hands on any returns, it’s worth seeing for McCabe’s performance and the sheer, undimmed power of Marlowe’s morality masterpiece.
