Review: DOCTOR FAUSTUS, Southwark Playhouse

Doctor John Faustus has reached and expanded the limits of human knowledge. In search of a deeper understanding of the universe and its laws, all that's left to do is to turn to the supernatural. So, he summons Mephistopheles and asks him to intercede with Lucifer on his behalf and strike a deal. The devil offers him 24 years of power in exchange for his soul. Doubtful yet charmed, Faustus signs in blood.

Directed by Ricky Dukes, Lazarus Theatre's take on Christopher Marlowe's demonic tale defies all genres, spanning everything from farce to gore in 95 minutes of esoteric intrigue. Historically controversial, Marlowe's play had its first outing at the end of the 16th Century, but stays relevant. After all, has there ever been a time when the hunger for fame and thirst for wisdom haven't ruled mankind?

Jamie O'Neill introduces an overly ambitious and duplicitous doctor who darts between faith and blasphemy in the pomp of his worldly education. He threatens repentance or suicide, but remains bound to Hell with increasing misery. He abuses his position with charisma and charm.

O'Neill is accompanied by an elvish David Angland as the deceiving minister of the Prince of Hell. Dressed in business attire with braces and a crisp white shirt, his Mephestopheles is menacing in his put-togetherness. Their synergy carries the project. Where O'Neill is double-crossing, Angland is devilishly direct in his propositions.

Mephistopheles despises his role as Faustus' slave, yet he plays along, conjuring feverish dreams populated by glowing planets and impish brides, but grows tired of being ordered around by his new master with a snap of fingers. He's all in when Faustus suggests they trick the Pope, but becomes frustrated in the presence of the Holy Roman Emperor.

They are joined by a crowd of sharply clad demons with green grins that look like gags in different lights. They celebrate Faustus' agreement with an eerily bizarre dance that goes from exhilarating to overtly sexual while Mephistopheles watches on, amused, towering over an intrigued but spooked Faustus.

Dukes' production is built on duality, opting for concept-driven scenes with defined visuals. Faustus conjures Mephistopheles whilst listening to death metal; Mephistopheles stands over his willing victim, pouring a river of blood from a ketchup bottle in a blue haze; the seven deadly sins circle Faustus in a nightmarish choreography that's as disturbing as it is hilarious; finally, Lucifer redeems her reward in a Dexterian crime scene.

This striking imagery toys with playful esotericism and is one with Stuart Glover's lights and Bobby Locke's music. Glover achieves a discombobulatingly effective lighting design with beams placed underneath the seats for a staggered effect and by opposing spotlights to create jarring chiaroscuri and dark silhouettes in the haze.

Throughout, the pulsating score swings from an imperceptible background to boomingly leading the scene. From hard rock to mock musical theatre through delicate ambience tunes, Locke creates an impressively broad soundscape that's as much a character in itself.

Dukes' adaptation remains faithful to the original, maintaining the musicality of the text but updating and streamlining it for new audiences. The Elizabethan rhythm becomes an extravagance, the language of the spiritual world. Designer Sorcha Corcoran sets the mood with a chaotic wall riddled with symbols and photos connected with red string. Across the long thrust stage, three desks with a handful of office supplies become these devils' playground.

While thoroughly impressive, this Doctor Faustus is far from perfect. An extended silent prologue prevents the audience from an immediate dive and Faustus' wordiness can sometimes be a lull, but they're acceptable shortcomings in the grand scheme of things. The programme quotes a note sent to the company before rehearsals started where the artistic director says that "This could be very, very good". And it is.

Doctor Faustus runs at Southwark Playhouse until 1 October.

Photo credit: Charles Flint

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