Arthur Darvill – Doctor Who's "Rory Williams" - has been in some ways the breakout success of the Moffatt-era show. The consistency and professionalism of his performance has helped on many occasions to elevate what is essentially a family show into moments of high or heartbreaking drama. So it was always going to be interesting to see what Darvill did 'next'.
Taking a lead role in a medieval metaphysical tragedy, at the Globe no less, was about as boldly unexpected a move as could be imagined. But Rory…as a demon? As the arch-tempter Mephistopheles, come to steal away the soul of German wunderkind John Faustus…?
Visually and imaginatively, it's a bit of a stretch. But Darvill is well-matched in his first major theatrical lead role – Paul Hilton's Faustus is tall and lean, like his "Devil", and anchors the production with all the hallmarks of Elizabethan theatre – wit, crowd-play, solid annunciation and a degree of spectacle. Playing almost off Hilton's masculinity, Darvill chooses to play the demon Mephistopheles on a knife-edge, allowing him to plunge from rather fey and posh to raging demonic fury on the flip of a coin. It's not, by any means, the most subtle Mephistopheles that ever graced a stage, but when he has the stage, you can't take your eyes off him – you're never quite sure what might be happening next.
When the two of them have dominant scenes together, Hilton and Darvill are practically dancers, moving and speaking with a fluidity that doesn't so much border on flirtation as cross the border with a standing army, invade the kitchen and put the kettle on. It's hypnotic to watch these two trade secrets of the universe, or tease the Pope, or bring dead heroes back to life – and Darvill appears entirely at ease assuming the lead and step out from the 'supporting role' space in which he's familiar to most people.
Watching theatre at the Globe, incidentally, is unlike watching it almost anywhere else. There's not only the noise, and sight, of regular planes breaking the fourth wall and interfering with the Elizabethan atmosphere, but there's a particular, almost rigid style at play – the comedy moments are delivered broad and brassy (fart jokes aplenty inbetween the metaphysical musings), and audience involvement, if not strictly participation, is a certainty (there were nervous ripples when one of the characters talked of making all the maidens dance naked with him). It's also this sense of rigidity that has some of the more naturally po-faced characters do quite a bit of declaiming – has to be said, by the time she gave up trying to save Faustus' soul, I would have been quite happy to see the 'Good Angel' stuck on an infernal toasting-fork. But the dividing line is fairly simple – the non-human characters, who are 'aware of the consequences of human actions', play things very straight and shouty. Ordinary humans are allowed to have a lot more fun, and besides Hilton and Darvill, who are undoubtedly the stars of the show, special mention has to be made of Pearce Quigley, who stole plenty of scenes as Robin and wrung every last drop of comedy out of them, and Richard Clews as his sidekick Dick, who, at least partially through the addition of an artificial…erm...aid, shall we say?...could never appear on stage without a decidedly female ripple of titters in the audience rising up.
The sets and style of this production are mainly minimalist, but with occasional added bits of puppetry and stylised costuming – there are two skeletal dragons at one point for instance, which are all very well, but don't particularly make a huge impact.
With 700 tickets for each performance selling for just £5, you could ultimately do a lot worse than letting Rory Williams introduce you to the wonders of the Globe, of Christopher Marlowe, and of Doctor Faustus particularly. You're perfectly safe in the hands of the Last Centurion.
For more on Doctor Faustus, go here. This post started on "Life, Doctor Who & Combom" at www.combom.co.uk  |
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