Last Updated on May 24, 2025
Dancing with the Devil
5.0 out of 5.0 starsAfter a glorious opening night at Glyndebourne, it’s a pleasure to be back at the Royal Opera House for the stunning visual and musical feast that is the all-star 6th revival of Sir David McVicar’s hit 2004 production of Gounod’s Faust. The Faust legend has become an embedded plank of Western culture, popping up in all sorts of contexts. The human soul’s struggle between salvation and damnation has long been a catalyst for cultural production in both popular culture and high art. The seminal blues guitarist Robert Johnson is said to have sold his soul to the devil to attain mastery of his instrument; the 1997 film The Devil’s Advocate with Al Pacino deals with similar themes, raising the eternal question of what we are willing to sacrifice for success. In the present global political context, the timing of this revival is apposite.
Charles Gounod’s five-act opera has a libretto by Jules Barbier and Michel Carré taken from Carré’s play Faust et Marguerite, but also influenced by Goethe’s Faust, Part One. The first performance was in 1859 at the Théâtre Lyrique in Paris, with this grandest of grand operas soon becoming a mainstay of the repertoire. McVicar’s production is set in 1870s Paris at the beginning of the Belle Époque, a time of social and economic division but also a period when the city of lights started to define itself as a location for culture, grand civic architecture, gastronomy, fashion and pleasure.
The opera follows the ageing scholar Faust, who, disillusioned and despairing, strikes a fateful bargain with Méphistophélès, the devil incarnate. Granted youth and vitality, Faust seduces the innocent Marguerite, only to set in motion a chain of tragedy, betrayal, and ultimate redemption. Gounod, described as having a ‘passionate nature’ by his mother, faced his own struggles. He was torn between worldly ambition and a desire to take religious orders; but in the end he chose to remain an artist, albeit one with a profoundly religious sensibility.
The opera opens with Faust as a doddery old man in the throes of an existential crisis. Romanian tenor Stefan Pop is sombre-toned in the role as the frustrated ancient renounces God and summons the devil, singing ‘Satan come to me!’ To his surprise, the Polish bass Adam Palka appears in a puff of panto smoke as Méphistophélès, offering to transform Faust into a young virile chap at the cost of his soul, letting him know that ‘Down there you will be mine.’
At this point, Eros is unbound, unleashing Faust as a hapless libertine, and Pop’s voice transforms into a punchy instrument. Encouraged by his mentor Méphistophélès to follow his baser instincts, Faust falls for the demure Marguerite and is overcome by feelings of love, allowing Pop, a bel canto specialist, to utilise the softer, more romantic timbres in his voice as he aces the high C in ‘Salut! Demeure chaste et pure’. We feel no pity for Pop’s Faust, despite his feelings of remorse in the final two acts, but it’s a strong performance with vocal brilliance and fine acting.
The opera is really Méphistophélès’ show. Adam Palka was brought in to cover the role only two weeks ago, replacing the indisposed Erwin Schrott, who was sharing the role with Ildebrando D’Arcangelo. I had seen Palka give a stentorian performance as Anna’s father in Don Giovanni at Covent Garden in 2022, but this was something quite different. His Méphistophélès is insinuating and sardonic with a mellifluous vocal line that only explodes into rage near the end of the opera. Act 2’s ‘Le veau d’or’ is a delightful demonstration of the corruptibility of ma,n and Palka’s lyric and playful approach will win him many plaudits.
Whether mock-accompanying himself with a red cane as his guitar or appearing in full bearded drag, Conchita Wurst style in a glamorous black gown as the bacchanalian Walpurgis night dance erupts around him, Palka has stepped up with this performance.
Bolivian-Albanian soprano Carolina López Moreno as Marguerite was also brought into the production late, as a replacement for Lisette Oropesa. Moreno plays demure very well, and much of her performance is by necessity dramatically and vocally restrained, allowing us to enjoy her smooth, velvety middle and lower registers. When she does cut loose as in her Act 3 signature aria, the Jewel Song (‘Oh dieu! Que de bijoux … Ah! je ris de me voir si belle en ce miroir’), seduced by the jewels and vanity, she reveals a shining top end that becomes transcendent in her final act apotheosis as she surrenders herself to God.
The role of Marguerite’s brother, the soldier Valentin, is taken by Russian-Austrian baritone Boris Pinkhasovich. Valentin, who goes off to war and then returns, setting off his own tragic demise, is dull and patriotic with a performative sense of virtue that is his undoing. Pinkhasovich brings a gruff masculinity to the part that is very moving as he gives us one of the finest male operatic deaths in the canon whilst cursing his sister.
The part of Valentin’s young friend Siébel, who is entrusted with watching over Marguerite when the soldier is away, is played as a breeches role by Chinese mezzo-soprano Hongni Wu. Wu claims our sympathy, limping around as the gangly, naïve boy totally out of his depth, but impresses vocally with a shining ‘Faites-lui mes aveux’ as she/he leaves a bouquet for Marguerite.
In the smaller roles, Estonian mezzo-soprano Monika-Evelin Liiv gives a delightful comic turn as the merry widow Marthe Schwertlein, Marguerite’s neighbour with the hots for Méphistophélès, who the devil is trying to keep busy while Faust attempts to seduce his beloved. British bass-baritone Ossian Huskinson, who is a Jette Parker Artist, also impresses as Valentin’s Wagner, a rather underwritten ‘good fellow’. More substantial roles will no doubt be filling up his diary.
David McVicar’s production is also a major star of this show. From the sonorous opening chords, we are taken into a dark, gritty Paris. Designer Charles Edwards’ clever set, encased in deep reds, dark browns and burnished gold, takes us from the glamour of the Palais Garnier opera house to the Gothic noir of the organ loft at Notre-Dame; from shadowy tenements steeped in Brassaï-esque sepia tones to the demonic glamour of the Cabaret de L’Enfer, which went on to become a real life venue in the 1890s in the Pigalle area, peopled by dancing girls in black sparkling bodices and bloomers. Lighting designer Paule Constable plays with shadows and light in a symphony of chiaroscuro whilst costume designer Brigitte Reiffenstuel brings glamour, wit and style to the stage with a huge range of outfits.
Maurizio Benini conducting, controls the emotional dynamics of the orchestra to allow the full force of Gounod’s rollercoaster ride to emerge unscathed without losing the synchronisation between the musicians and singers. The chorus makes a splendid sound whether as soldiers and citizens on the streets pumped up with nationalist fervour, or in the Act 1 drinking song, or backstage as a heavenly chorus in Act 5.
Choreographer Michael Keegan-Dolan’s Walpurgisnacht ballet sequence transforms brilliantly from the opening with the ballerinas waltzing barefoot in white floaty chiffon, before descending into an orgiastic mêlée that somehow feels like the best party you never got invited to.
McVicar’s Faust is the best production of the opera around, and this revival does nothing to change its status, rather reinforcing its position. The replacement cast members shine, and if you love grand opera, you should catch it while you can.
Faust
23 May–10 June 2025
Royal Opera House
Bow Street
London
WC2E 9DD
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