Faust (1926) - film review

The Devil persuades an archangel to agree to a bet:  if he can corrupt one good man then the whole world will be his; if not, he will return to Hell forever.   To snare his victim, the Prince of Darkness sends a plague down on a German town, a disease which kills people in their thousands.  Brought to despair through his inability to counter the plague, the aged Dr Faust calls up the Devil in a moment of desperation - and he duly appears, in the guise of Mephisto.  In exchange for halting the plague, Faust signs his name to a contract, little realising that he is signing away his soul.   Mephisto traps Faust by restoring his youth, knowing that this is a gift his victim will not give up willingly.  To claim his prize, the Devil transports the rejuvenated Faust to a village where the latter immediately falls in love with a young woman, Gretchen.   It is a romance that leads inevitably to tragedy, as Mephisto resorts to the most cruel of machinations to win his demonic bet...

With this 1926 adaptation of the Faust legend, that master of German expressionism, Friedrich Wilhelm Murnau, created a timeless visual masterpiece, a film which vigorously challenges any pre-conceived notions of silent cinema.  Murnau’s last film before he moved to Hollywood, the film represents both a transition of cinematic styles for its director and also a culmination of his expressionist art.  There is a maturity, freedom of expression and sincerity which is more striking in this film than in any of Murnau’s earlier works – to the extent that watching the film today can be a deeply emotional, even traumatic, experience.

Powerful performances from an impressive cast of actors, combined with stunning photography (which includes some remarkable cinematographic trickery), make this a thoroughly engrossing work.  Emil Jannings’ portrayal of Mephisto is legendary – a mix of the supremely sinister with the slightly comic, allowing him to seduce his audience with unnerving ease.  Indeed so eye-catching is Jannings’ performance that you might be forgiven for overlooking the contribution from his equally talented co-stars, Gösta Ekman and Camilla Horn.  Having said that, it is only when the film’s focus shifts from Faust and Mephisto to Gretchen that it attains its greatest impact.   The young maiden’s descent into ruin and isolation is heart-rending to watch, offering one of cinema’s most brutal depictions of the corruption of innocence by evil.  On paper, the film’s ending may sound a tad overly sentimental, but watching those final images makes a haunting, deeply spiritual, experience.

Where the film is most impressive is in its avant-garde cinematography – which by the standards of 1925, when the film was made, was way ahead of its time. Murnau’s technical competence, imagination and willingness to take a gamble and try something different all play a part in defining the film’s unique visual feel.   The way in which the film uses image to convey the emotions of its protagonists and the sheer awesome power of the Devil is something which only a few other filmmakers could ever come near to matching.  Time and again, the spectator is stunned by Murnau’s artistic genius – and his daring.  Far from being blasphemous, the idea of framing certain key scenes in the film in a way which calls to mind religious paintings is a very effective device for emphasising the film’s emotional impact.

Murnau’s Faust is a remarkable film which (unlike many subsequent films) makes a worthy interpretation of a familiar story.  A dark visual poem, it eloquently portrays the eternal struggle of good versus evil with originality, wit and monumental humanity.  Its artistic merits and simple plot surely make it one of the most accessible of silent films.  It is certainly one of the most expressive and captivating films of its era.

© James Travers 2003

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