The Free Theatre's Faust Chroma by Jared Wells (for Presto)
The Free Theatre's Faust Chroma, directed by Peter Falkenberg, is a brilliant example of intelligent, vigorous and experimental theatre. The play centres on Gustaf Gründgens (Ryan Reynolds), leading German actor and director famous for his productions of Goethe's Faust and his performances as Faust's nemesis Mephistopheles (or the Devil). Gründgens, a homosexual, made a Faustian pact of his own when he was appointed head of the state-run theatres in the Reich. Set in the final moments of his life, the action unfolds through various representations of Gründgens's delirium as he re-lives or re-imagines and the various roles he played in theatre and in life, all the while being taunted by his guilt-ridden conscience in the form of Mephistopheles (Marian McCurdy and Sophie Lee).
For playwright Werner Fritsch, Gründgens's life offered a perfect vehicle for a searching examination of the role and political significant of theatre, particularly in its problematic relationship to German fascism, although Falkenberg generalizes this to include more contemporary manifestations of authoritarianism as well.
Like other Free Theatre productions, Faust Chroma deliberately eschews the central importance usually afforded the text. Text here is relatively demoted; anyone expecting conventional characterisation and linear narrative will probably be disappointed. Instead, words are merely one part of this sensual and dynamic production that skilfully interweaves elements of song, nonverbal sound, film and music with movement, gesture, mimicry and dance to create an exciting, pulsating theatrical event. The emphasis on non-verbal action and the vigorous sense of dynamic is refreshing, an approach sadly lacking in many contemporary productions that remain committed to staid and traditional forms of storytelling.
This strong rhythmic impetus derives in part from central role of music, with the God-Pianist figure (played by sculptor and musician Chris Reddington, who also created the set) seemingly choreographing the action from centre stage. More than simply providing a suitable musical backdrop to events, Reddington's piano intervenes in the action, nudging the actor's voices in the direction of song, chant, and incantation. His wonderfully evocative score, swinging between the extremes of the violent and the creepily subdued, is easily one of the highlights of this excellent production.
Crucial to its overall shape and flow, this music, along with Emma Johnston's incredible operatic singing, dictates the tone of the play's different sections. In the absence of any obviously linear narration, the action unfolds as a series of often contrasting emotional tonalities each with their own distinctive musical 'character.' These changing moods, dreamlike in their progression and suggestibility, afford the audience different insights into Gründgens's troubled mind.
Gründgens's tragic biography, involving an uneasy artistic alliance with the Nazis and a probable death by suicide, deftly highlights the dangers and compromises that beset radical art in times of widespread and oppressive conformity. Such a warning, of course, has undeniable relevance not only for the theatre, but also for contemporary art in general, in a world where the competing currents of religious fundamentalism, Nationalist fervour, and the demands of Capitalism constantly impinge upon the freedom and autonomy of artistic expression.
Yet this questioning of power has a more immediate, local resonance, and one that surfaces most explicitly in Hermann Göring's (George Parker) powerful final monologue. Spoken by Hitler's second in command and leader of the Nazi state theatres, Göring's monologue makes explicit reference to University of Canterbury Vice-Chancellor Roy Sharp's condescending comments in the Christchurch Press denunciating theatre as merely "faddy," and therefore presumably unworthy of serious consideration. Indeed, during the play's early performances the Theatre and Film Studies department at the University of Canterbury, many of whose staff and students are intimately involved in the Free Theatre and Faust Chroma, was threatened with disestablishment as part of a larger planned series of changes to the Colleges of Arts.
Thankfully, such a proposal did not go ahead, although it clearly highlights the dangers to art in a world where utility threatens to triumph over creativity. It is precisely in times like these that we need relevant and intelligent theatre like Faust Chroma.
For playwright Werner Fritsch, Gründgens's life offered a perfect vehicle for a searching examination of the role and political significant of theatre, particularly in its problematic relationship to German fascism, although Falkenberg generalizes this to include more contemporary manifestations of authoritarianism as well.
Like other Free Theatre productions, Faust Chroma deliberately eschews the central importance usually afforded the text. Text here is relatively demoted; anyone expecting conventional characterisation and linear narrative will probably be disappointed. Instead, words are merely one part of this sensual and dynamic production that skilfully interweaves elements of song, nonverbal sound, film and music with movement, gesture, mimicry and dance to create an exciting, pulsating theatrical event. The emphasis on non-verbal action and the vigorous sense of dynamic is refreshing, an approach sadly lacking in many contemporary productions that remain committed to staid and traditional forms of storytelling.
This strong rhythmic impetus derives in part from central role of music, with the God-Pianist figure (played by sculptor and musician Chris Reddington, who also created the set) seemingly choreographing the action from centre stage. More than simply providing a suitable musical backdrop to events, Reddington's piano intervenes in the action, nudging the actor's voices in the direction of song, chant, and incantation. His wonderfully evocative score, swinging between the extremes of the violent and the creepily subdued, is easily one of the highlights of this excellent production.
Crucial to its overall shape and flow, this music, along with Emma Johnston's incredible operatic singing, dictates the tone of the play's different sections. In the absence of any obviously linear narration, the action unfolds as a series of often contrasting emotional tonalities each with their own distinctive musical 'character.' These changing moods, dreamlike in their progression and suggestibility, afford the audience different insights into Gründgens's troubled mind.
Gründgens's tragic biography, involving an uneasy artistic alliance with the Nazis and a probable death by suicide, deftly highlights the dangers and compromises that beset radical art in times of widespread and oppressive conformity. Such a warning, of course, has undeniable relevance not only for the theatre, but also for contemporary art in general, in a world where the competing currents of religious fundamentalism, Nationalist fervour, and the demands of Capitalism constantly impinge upon the freedom and autonomy of artistic expression.
Yet this questioning of power has a more immediate, local resonance, and one that surfaces most explicitly in Hermann Göring's (George Parker) powerful final monologue. Spoken by Hitler's second in command and leader of the Nazi state theatres, Göring's monologue makes explicit reference to University of Canterbury Vice-Chancellor Roy Sharp's condescending comments in the Christchurch Press denunciating theatre as merely "faddy," and therefore presumably unworthy of serious consideration. Indeed, during the play's early performances the Theatre and Film Studies department at the University of Canterbury, many of whose staff and students are intimately involved in the Free Theatre and Faust Chroma, was threatened with disestablishment as part of a larger planned series of changes to the Colleges of Arts.
Thankfully, such a proposal did not go ahead, although it clearly highlights the dangers to art in a world where utility threatens to triumph over creativity. It is precisely in times like these that we need relevant and intelligent theatre like Faust Chroma.
