Faustus: That Damned Woman (NHB Modern Plays) (Nick Hern)

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The ideas behind Caroline Byrne’s production for the Lyric and Headlong are original and ambitious but don’t combine into a glorious whole. It is a shame because there is some fantastic revisionism here. As it is, the play ends up overreaching. Inspired by a human connection with the four elements, Good Teeth design team have created a timeless setting. With tree roots bursting from the ceiling, as if under the earth, this could be hell. As Mephistopheles states in Marlowe’s interpretation ‘all places shall be hell, that are not heaven’. Dripping water, flaming walls, at any time we could be by a river, in a mansion, on the heath, but never far away from the eternal presence of hell and Mephistopheles. That said, the Faust myth endures because it is universal, and I don’t think any of that changes with this new retelling. It’s still the same story of vaulting ambition, hubris and exceptionalism, of what we’re prepared to sacrifice to achieve greatness, of the tantalising thought that, despite all the evidence, we might finally be the one to outsmart the devil. None of this is lost by having a female Faustus, although hopefully it brings into focus the way in which women are still punished for their ambition in a way men often aren’t. As a male critic, I'm infinitely aware that there's a danger of this review being turned into an examination of how men treat women who aspire to that greatness or their desire to tell great stories. But a piece of theatre can only be judged on its own terms of whether it engages its audience or not. Despite a highly atmospheric production by Caroline Byrne, and lively performances by a seven-strong cast spiritedly led by Jodie McNee in the title role, I found myself mostly at a distance (and not just because I was seated in row M). Partly its the Faust story itself: it's not meant to be taken literally, of course, but with its time-travelling shifts of pace and place, it's difficult to care what actually happens to her. But there's also something muddled and muted in the storytelling here. As much as I wanted to embrace it, its stridency kept pushing me away.

Once gaining her powers from Lucifer, Johanna’s concern turns to the welfare of her father during The Great Plague. However, her demands that Mephistopheles cure him of illness results in the demon causing the fire in which Faustus Senior perishes. Considering Johanna was willing to bargain her soul due to the grief at the loss of her mother, the loss of Daddy Faustus seems to not overly bother her, as she seeks an opportunity to zip forward in time and straighten out a few issues. The concept is compelling. The ideas are fiendish. But, like Faustus herself, the play doesn’t really fulfil its vaulting ambition. As part of the deal, Lucifer leaves Mephistopholes as his agent, or Johanna’s PA depending on interpretation. The part of Mephistopholes is played in turn by each of the supporting cast, with each of them adding a subtle layer of depth of intrigue to the character. This does help to lighten proceedings and shine a light on the talented cast who, along with the deliciously darkadelic stage design, are the strong points of the production.

About the show

It is splendid to rethink this and other classic stories with a complex female anti-hero. But Johanna is never allowed moments of intimacy which would warm us towards her. Her most interesting bond is with Mephistopheles. When asked about her relationship with men, she replies, in one of the play’s well-placed comic moments, “It’s complicated.” Can a woman not – in that most malleable of forms, art – exchange her soul for mortal advantage? Can a woman not write that story? Laying aside the originating historical circumstances – there were numerous references to a German wonder-worker called (Johannes) Faustus in the early-16th century – the imbalance seems particularly odd in the case of this tale. In my new play, my Faustus is a young woman in 17th-century London, the daughter of a plague doctor father and a herbalist mother who was tried and killed as a witch when Faustus was a girl. She’s grown up with a mistrust of organised religion and a fascination with the occult, and exists on the fringes of society. She has no wealth and little agency. By the time she meets Lucifer she knows the risks but sees his offer as the least bad option available to her. As she tells him: The strength of the performance lies in the physicality of the performers who take on collective movement as easily as they embody the wit and emotion of characters.

When researching the look and feel Francesca wants to bring to a production, she says she works with visual imagery more than words, and for Faustus she has explored ideas of physical theatre and contemporary dance, along with body art. At this point it is essential to mention the exceptional talent that is Olivia Sweeney who commands the stage from start to finish as Johanna with a dominance that is positively awe-inspiring. Chris Bush’s contemporary take on the myth, ‘Faustus: That Damned Woman’, asks (kind of)what a woman might have done with the power.And the answer – in this co-productionbetweenHeadlong and the Lyric – is that heroine Johanna Faustus does a lot more. Like, a lot more. Despite its darkness, it’s very hopeful. It’s about legacy, it’s about living in a fearless way and facing death Director Francesca Goodridge’s vision for this ensemble production is that any of the female ensemble could take the title role. ‘You’re watching Olivia play Faustus. But if you’d have come an hour before, you might have seen another of the ensemble playing Faustus.’ And the production feels like any of the ensemble could have stepped up to take on Faustus’ plight. There is a sense of mutual animosity against persecution throughout the production, at any time an actor might take up the reins and continue Faustus’ fight.

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The opening scene sets the tone for the play amidst Johanna’s mothers hanging for witchcraft. Olivia Sweeney (Johanna) takes the audience on a journey through time whilst conveying a spectrum of emotions in the search for the truth of her mothers death. At the end of the show when Faustus is taken, it’s ‘let’s start again. Who’s the next woman who’s going to come out? It’s OK, we might fail, but there will always be another brilliant woman who is going to have a go. And that’s what we’ve got to cling on to’.”