30 - Doctor Faustus, The Globe

I have had an emotional connection to this play for a rather long time. For one thing, I remember a great school production when I was young, and a great English teacher teaching us the play at GCSE level. I later helped a friend who had missed a lot of college put on a stripped down version of the play so she could still get a great mark for the drama assessment she had missed. Then during the heady summer before heading off to university I was an extra in a fantastic professional production at Chichester Festival Theatre where I, naturally, fell in love with Sam West who played Faustus. It is irretrievably linked in my brain with happy times.

Doctor Faustus also connects with me on an academic level. It is the culmination of centuries of medieval mystery plays evolving from a celebration of religious dogma into a play written purely for entertainment by an alleged anarchist. Doctor Faustus isn't a mystery play of course, but when you watch it you can feel the mystery plays behind it, like looking at a child's face and seeing both his parents at the same time. I got my first 1st at university for a prompt book I wrote for a hypothetical planned production of Doctor Faustus, complete with little pop-up set design.

Just as well then that my sister Daisy, another Faustus fan, and I enjoyed this production immensely. I think if I saw a poor production of Doctor Faustus it would be like watching someone stamp on a kitten.

In this production at The Globe it was all about the comedy. Even the dramatic conjuring scene and the close in which Faustus is dragged to hell were funny, with Faustus failing to light candles with great comic timing. I was surprised by this as, particularly at a midnight showing, I expected more of a creepy atmosphere. At times I did think this detracted from the more powerful sections of the play, those bits we think were most likely written by Marlowe. Likes like "O soul, be changed into little water-drops, And fall into the ocean ne'er be found" tend to lose their power a bit when the demons entering to carry Faustus away are quite cartoonish and enter after the bow for a comical dance with bloodied puppet babies.

Having the comedy bleed such a lot into the more serious scenes meant the play felt a lot more complete, rather than a disjointed bundle of slapstick scenes sandwiched between a powerfully tragic beginning and end. Paul Hilton played a very physical and comical Faustus rather than a lyrical and wordy one and this was a production that concentrated on the spectacle of the play over the language.

And the spectacle was truly magnificent. Ghostly aristocrats in white masks danced obscene dances, Mephistopheles and Faustus rode on giant skeletal dragons, books erupted into flame and Faustus was decapitated on stage, only for his removed head to start chatting away and leap back onto his body. Every minute there was something new and clever going on. Pearce Quigley's deadpan delivery for Robin was truly hilarious from the minute he emerged on stage and started urinating against a pillar.

It was half way through the production when I realised Mephistopheles was Arthur Darvill of Rory-from-Doctor-Who fame. He was really excellent, not super villain evil all the time but charismatic and tortured as Mephistopheles should be. Amongst all the energy and comedy it was Darvill who managed to retain the power of some of the real gut-wrenching lines of the play. I went from feeling a terrible sympathy for Mephistopheles "why this is Hell, nor am I out of it" to hating him for deceiving Faustus and leading him to his downfall "I do confess it Faustus and rejoice." Of course I have now developed a crush on Arthur Darvill which should make watching post-Tennant Doctor Who more interesting.

This might not have been the greatest production I have seen so far this year, but I think it is the one I have most totally fallen in love with. There is a hole in my heart where this production should be. I want to watch it again. I want it on DVD so I can watch it every night before I go to sleep. Is it a bit weird to be in love with a play and develop a life-long crush on any actor who performs brilliantly in it? Never mind, yard tickets at The Globe are a fiver people, go go go go go.