Jillian Keiley’s production of The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus aims to demonstrate “how we sing
to each other as much as do birds and whales” by using elements of musical theory in the theatrical
presentation. Keiley’s director’s notes admit Faustus is one of the most challenging but potentially rewarding tests of this idea, because it’s “known as one of the most rhythmically complex works ever composed in pentameter.”
The production’s central problem is its assumption that Marlowe’s rhythmic complexity is not enough in itself; by piling so much additional weight on top of the text, from the sound design to vocal arrangements, Faustus itself is buried under too many other ideas.
The production’s saving graces are its simultaneously brilliant and functional set design and Emma Hunter’s incredible performance as Mephistophilis. Adair Redish and Mark Hunt’s set design gives the show the flexibility it needs to portray demonic visitations and hell without needing ornate effects; it’s
also undeniably really, really cool. The stage is composed of large boxes of different shapes with black wooden tops and coloured cloth sides, slit to allow actors to enter and exit the boxes. The set pieces move between and during scenes, allowing impressive effects like a chorus revolving around Faustus, a gnashing hellmouth, a visually credible decapitation and lots more. It’s an ingenious marriage of form and function and lends Faustus’ final hours much of their horror. Oddly, the devil Mephistophilis, as played by Emma Hunter, turns out to be the play’s most compelling and sympathetic
character. Rather than taking the form of a friar as in the text, Keiley has cast Mephistophilis as a woman, but wisely steers away from a clichéd “demonic seductress” interpretation of the role. Hunter’s facial expressions alone have an amazing ability to simultaneously convey delight, pity and fear, and er alternations of compassion and contempt for Faustus are finely calibrated. There’s an elegant music in her line delivery that no one else in the cast can match, and her emotionally and psychologically complex performance is ironically the most human element of the production.
Keiley’s experiment with Faustus involved first working with the actors’ interpretation of the text’s rhythm, and then giving Viktor Lukawski the task of composing an “electronic soundscape” for the actors to perform over. Vocal director James Smith was responsible for musical arrangements of the Chorus’s lines. These are interesting ideas whose execution causes serious problems. The constant accompaniment of Lukawski’s score often overwhelms the dialogue’s rhythm rather than enhancing it, and especially in the play’s first hour, it’s too loud, competing with instead of accompanying the actors. It’s one of several reasons the play will be nearly impenetrable for anyone who’s not already familiar with it, especially its first half. As the action escalates, Lukawski’s music becomes more evocative, but earlier pieces are irritating in their lengthy repetition. Smith’s arrangements are less roblematic, but the Chorus parts are largely incomprehensible due to the complex harmonies and the cast’s trouble with enunciation. His occasional use of dissonance in some interludes and background vocals is one of the most appropriate applications of musical theory to the dramatic content of the play. When Faustus sings the way Keiley hoped it would, the results are entertaining and effective; the strong rhythm of the seven deadly sins scene is traded off smoothly between the cast members, and Paul ’Alessandro’s Benvolio manages to make Marlowe’s text sound completely natural, although he could slow down a little. The show’s opening was delayed by one night because Faustus (Danny Mahoney) was ill. Mahoney’s coughing spells on Wednesday night indicated he hadn’t fully recovered, and audiences might see a more energetic Faustus after Reading Week. Still, Mahoney’s Faustus seemed somewhat anemic by design rather than misfortune, and the unenthusiastic delivery of his long opening monologue about Faustus’ desire for greater knowledge was a poor start.
Faustus is a difficult role for any actor—his fate is so obvious, so clearly a result of selfish desire, and so easily avoidable that it’s hard for him to truly arouse the audience’s pity or sympathy. Mahoney’s
decision to avoid a scenery-chewing, evil genius performance initially seems prudent, but becomes tedious over the course of the show. One can only assume the production will benefit from a healthier Faustus, and it’s not unreasonable to hope that the music’s volume will become more balanced with the dialogue. Still, the great ingenuity and effort demanded from the cast and crew doesn’t compensate for the show’s lack of focus on communicating clearly with its audience. While obviously a labour of love, Keiley’s daring experiment isn’t quite a success; at last judgement, this Faustus is purgatorial rather than hellish.
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Faustus runs Feb. 18 and March 1-3 at 8 p.m. and March 3 at 2 p.m. in Theological Hall’s Rotunda Theatre. Tickets are $12 for adults and $8 for students and seniors at Destinations.
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