I
suppose the first question any auteur must have when adapting to the screen a
venerable text like Goethe’s Faust or Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus might be
“Why?” What is it that makes a story that’s several centuries old speak to
modern audiences? Jan Svankmajer’s answer to this dilemma is to deconstruct
the myth to such a degree that his adaptation begins to function as much as a
meditation on the function of the morality tale as a recounting of the story.
Set in modern day Prague, Svankmajer’s updating of the legend has all of the
elements of his usual films. There are dirty sets and grungy puppets,
repetitive, inane routines and disgusting scenes showing the characters as they
eat. Svankmajer’s Doctor Faust is a nameless everyman (Peter Cepek) who
follows a map given to him anonymously on the street to a strange theater where
he assumes the mantle of Faust. We watch him apply makeup and put on Faust’s
costume, as he assumes the role, and before being called to the stage he takes
the time to practice his lines. On his way to the stage he sees actors preparing
for their roles, and puppets as they use the restroom. Upon seeing his audience,
however, he becomes reticent to step into the role and cuts through the scenery
to escape.
What
begins as a relatively straightforward Brechtian blurring of the lines between
fantasy and reality continues to grow more complicated as the film continues.The most superficial distancing effects, such as the cut to a wagging
sheet of metal whenever thunder claps on stage or the intermission scene in
which we watch the audience take a break from the play to get refreshments,
belie the director’s greater purpose in using them. Svankmajer pays homage to
the plays many incarnations while telling his tale. As the story plays out, he
uses cinema, stage play, puppetry, ballet, and opera to tell it. By doing this,
Svankmajer is simultaneously reminding us that it’s only a story that we’re
watching while underlining the enduring qualities of that story. It’s comical
then, while watching a puppet show which plays out his dilemma, Cepek’s
everyman scoffs at the angel’s warning before a mock Faust signs his pact in
blood. Svankmajer turns this condescending reaction to this morality play as a
cautionary tale, however. Since the Faust myth has become so ingrained into
Western culture, it’s tough for a modern citizen to take it seriously, but the
director argues that it still is relevant, even as he acknowledges its
theatricality. The film’s structure is composed so that it stresses the
revolving cycle of events that cause this story to repeat itself, and thereby
make it significant to modern audiences. The great irony here is that the
subject’s willingness to ignore all warning signs seems to be part of the
sequence, yet the story continues to be told. Svankmajer often deconstructs his
movies in this way, and it’s not always as enlightening as you might hope, but
it also disarms any criticism that his puppetry is obviously fake, and makes
audiences willing to sit through stories that they’ve already heard. His Faust
is a bit too detached to be truly disturbing or emotionally affecting, but
perhaps that’s because we’ve already been numbed to the story through
repetition.
