Doctor Faustus
Three actors and three musicians take you to hell and back in a tale that's halfway between pathos and pantomime
| 15 Aug 2007
When Christopher Marlowe died in 1593, he was the greatest English playwright; it was not until years later that his contemporary, William Shakespeare, surpassed his achievement. Central among Marlowe's slim output was Doctor Faustus, a so-called comedy of horrors in which a German intellectual sells his soul to Lucifer in exchange for a host of delights. Somehow the young members of Flintlock Theatre successfully bring this strange and unpalatable play to life with extraordinary gusto and humour, without skimping on emotional impact.
Three actors and three musicians conjure up Marlowe's Europe as Faustus travels around with Lucifer's sidekick, Mephistopheles, showing prelates and kings the wicked wonders of which they are capable. Nikesh Patel is a convincingly fickle Faustus, hastily making a bargain that he soon wimpishly regrets. David Ross plays an assortments of sidekicks and fools, all very memorably, but Tim Gutteridge is the show's true Protean wonder - the dastardly Mephistopheles one minute, a buffoonish Emperor the next. In the show's most memorable coup, he plays all Seven Deadly Sins in a single scene.
Occasionally, the show buckles under the pressure of switching between anguished brooding and farce, slapstick, and scatology. But who's complaining when there's so much fun to be had? It takes more than mere irreverence to put on an infantile production of a classic play and make it work: it takes real ingenuity, and this outsize, Kamikaze production has an enormous amount. The death of one's first-born would be insufficient reason for missing this play.
Three actors and three musicians conjure up Marlowe's Europe as Faustus travels around with Lucifer's sidekick, Mephistopheles, showing prelates and kings the wicked wonders of which they are capable. Nikesh Patel is a convincingly fickle Faustus, hastily making a bargain that he soon wimpishly regrets. David Ross plays an assortments of sidekicks and fools, all very memorably, but Tim Gutteridge is the show's true Protean wonder - the dastardly Mephistopheles one minute, a buffoonish Emperor the next. In the show's most memorable coup, he plays all Seven Deadly Sins in a single scene.
Occasionally, the show buckles under the pressure of switching between anguished brooding and farce, slapstick, and scatology. But who's complaining when there's so much fun to be had? It takes more than mere irreverence to put on an infantile production of a classic play and make it work: it takes real ingenuity, and this outsize, Kamikaze production has an enormous amount. The death of one's first-born would be insufficient reason for missing this play.