Two great European myths emerged from the early modern period, despite its being a time of print culture: that of the great seducer, Don Juan, and that of Faust, the frustrated intellectual who strikes a pact with Hell. These are myths in the sense that they are the exclusive property of no individual author, but belong in common to the whole culture (as Murnau's subtitle, calling this a "Volkssage," reminds us); and as such they are susceptible to wide variations in the telling. The tale of Faust began humbly enough (by literary standards) in the anonymous German *Faustbuch*, which, quickly translated into English, soon became the basis for one of Kit Marlowe's greatest plays. After that brief emergence into high culture it went low-brow again, becoming a staple of German puppet theater, and wall-paintings in beer-cellars like Auerbach's in Leipzig. Lessing saw its possibilities, and Goethe (who had drunk at Auerbach's as a student) realized them in the greatest work of German literature--on which he lavished much of a very long life. Goethe's work inspired Romantic artists including not only Byron (as in "Manfred") but also opera composers ranging from Ludwig Spohr to Hector Berlioz, Charles Gounod, and Arrigo Boito.
Murnau's splendid (and now splendidly restored) silent film takes its cues primarily from the Goethe and Gounod versions, but goes its own way too, as is quite right. Goethe, after all, was writing a "closet drama," that is, a play meant to be read rather than performed and seen in a theater (though the first of its two parts is widely considered stage-able); but Murnau was creating a photo-play in which any words had to be in the form of disruptive title screens; and so the verbal component, which for Goethe was the whole, had in film to be kept to a bare minimum. This underlies and justifies many of Murnau's departures from Goethe's splendid precedent--departures that offended me when I first saw this film many years ago, in a far inferior version, but that I now see the reason and justification for. In any case, those of us who are familiar with Goethe's *Faust* (as Germans tend to be) are seeing a rather different movie here from the one that others see--for better and/or for worse.
From Goethe (himself borrowing from *Job*) this film takes the notion of a background wager between Heaven and Hell, here providing that if Faust falls, spiritually, Hell gets to rule the whole earth. This being a film from Germany a quarter of the way through the twentieth century (which Al Pacino, as the Devil in *Devil's Advocate,* memorably characterizes as "all mine"), the terms of the wager provide no sure clue which side will win it. The *Faustbuch,* Marlowe, and Berlioz all consign Faust to Hell at the end; Goethe, Gounod, and Boito all redeem him. What will this film do? Find out!
The emphasis on "youth" (as the main desideratum for which Faust bargains with the devil), and the disproportionate (relative to Goethe) emphasis on the love story with Gretchen, both show influence from the Gounod opera. An example of Murnau's departing from both precedents is having Mephisto himself commit a murder that in both Goethe and Gounod he manipulates Faust into committing; but the underlying idea, that Mephisto is prepping Faust for Hell and damnation by leading him to despair of salvation, is rightly maintained. Also, where Goethe has Faust recall a plague when his and his father's medical science utterly failed to help people, Murnau makes that plague present, and Faust's inability to help is the immediate cause of his spiritual desperation. A maiden who appeals in vain to the aged Faust for medical help (for her mother) is a near look-alike to Gretchen, a nice touch.
Jannings is a splendidly louche, unhandsome devil (here named "Mephisto," the only name bestowed upon this character in actual dialog in Goethe, though speech prefixes give "Mephistopheles"). His tactics are ingeniously contrived to keep outright magic to a minimum, relying on spiritual cunning instead. Camilla Horn seems too much the stock silent heroine early on, but grows mightily as Gretchen suffers. Gösta Ekman as the title character is perhaps weaker in his young guise, but his ability (with great help from makeup) to represent both old Faust and young is breathtaking.
Makeup in general is too stagy for the frequent sharply focused closeups, so that we see it AS makeup. For special effects, shots of the apocalyptic horsemen, and shots of Mephisto and Faust on the back of some rough beast supposedly carrying them through the sky, may induce some cringes; but otherwise the quality is astonishingly high for the period, with model sets exquisitely designed, built, dressed, and photographed. The soundtrack of the 1997 restored version features only one each of cello, trumpet, violin, clarinet, and piano, and so sounds a bit thin, and also rather repetitious, but it is enlivened by intelligent quotations from both Gounod's opera and Schubert's setting (from Goethe) of "Gretchen am Spinnrade."
Murnau's splendid (and now splendidly restored) silent film takes its cues primarily from the Goethe and Gounod versions, but goes its own way too, as is quite right. Goethe, after all, was writing a "closet drama," that is, a play meant to be read rather than performed and seen in a theater (though the first of its two parts is widely considered stage-able); but Murnau was creating a photo-play in which any words had to be in the form of disruptive title screens; and so the verbal component, which for Goethe was the whole, had in film to be kept to a bare minimum. This underlies and justifies many of Murnau's departures from Goethe's splendid precedent--departures that offended me when I first saw this film many years ago, in a far inferior version, but that I now see the reason and justification for. In any case, those of us who are familiar with Goethe's *Faust* (as Germans tend to be) are seeing a rather different movie here from the one that others see--for better and/or for worse.
From Goethe (himself borrowing from *Job*) this film takes the notion of a background wager between Heaven and Hell, here providing that if Faust falls, spiritually, Hell gets to rule the whole earth. This being a film from Germany a quarter of the way through the twentieth century (which Al Pacino, as the Devil in *Devil's Advocate,* memorably characterizes as "all mine"), the terms of the wager provide no sure clue which side will win it. The *Faustbuch,* Marlowe, and Berlioz all consign Faust to Hell at the end; Goethe, Gounod, and Boito all redeem him. What will this film do? Find out!
The emphasis on "youth" (as the main desideratum for which Faust bargains with the devil), and the disproportionate (relative to Goethe) emphasis on the love story with Gretchen, both show influence from the Gounod opera. An example of Murnau's departing from both precedents is having Mephisto himself commit a murder that in both Goethe and Gounod he manipulates Faust into committing; but the underlying idea, that Mephisto is prepping Faust for Hell and damnation by leading him to despair of salvation, is rightly maintained. Also, where Goethe has Faust recall a plague when his and his father's medical science utterly failed to help people, Murnau makes that plague present, and Faust's inability to help is the immediate cause of his spiritual desperation. A maiden who appeals in vain to the aged Faust for medical help (for her mother) is a near look-alike to Gretchen, a nice touch.
Jannings is a splendidly louche, unhandsome devil (here named "Mephisto," the only name bestowed upon this character in actual dialog in Goethe, though speech prefixes give "Mephistopheles"). His tactics are ingeniously contrived to keep outright magic to a minimum, relying on spiritual cunning instead. Camilla Horn seems too much the stock silent heroine early on, but grows mightily as Gretchen suffers. Gösta Ekman as the title character is perhaps weaker in his young guise, but his ability (with great help from makeup) to represent both old Faust and young is breathtaking.
Makeup in general is too stagy for the frequent sharply focused closeups, so that we see it AS makeup. For special effects, shots of the apocalyptic horsemen, and shots of Mephisto and Faust on the back of some rough beast supposedly carrying them through the sky, may induce some cringes; but otherwise the quality is astonishingly high for the period, with model sets exquisitely designed, built, dressed, and photographed. The soundtrack of the 1997 restored version features only one each of cello, trumpet, violin, clarinet, and piano, and so sounds a bit thin, and also rather repetitious, but it is enlivened by intelligent quotations from both Gounod's opera and Schubert's setting (from Goethe) of "Gretchen am Spinnrade."