(Credit: ©2025 Marc Brenner)

This David McVicar production of “Faust” is its sixth incarnation. It is a cornucopia of demonic dabbling and delightful witticism combined with some rather dark, if not thoroughly perturbing, moments; balanced with some stellar acting and some pretty glorious singing!
Under revival director Peter Relton we are presented here with a gamut of prancing devils, cabaret girls a la can-can, orgiastic ballerinas, flamboyant acrobats, a blood seeping stone cross and a (briefly) cross-dressing devil. Think maniacal “Moulin Rouge,” or Beelzebub burlesque or Cirque-du Soleil on psychedelics!

The first act sees the aged, disillusioned and despondent Faust enter into a pact with Méphistophélès to return to his youth, vitality and virility in exchange for his soul in the afterlife. The elixir of love, or panacea, he drinks restores him to a young man who falls in love with Marguerite. What follows is the ensuing and obligatory tragedy that only Grand Opera can produce.

Set designer Charles Edwards provides much visual splendor with some superb Gothic backdrops, mid to late 19th century Parisienne architecture, a partial replica opera house, the Notre Damme organ loft and eerie woodlands and churchyard, all splendidly and convincingly created. So too, Brigitte Reiffenstuel’s costumes blending superbly, faithfully replicating the styles of the time.

As a work, Gounod’s “Faust” is far from perfect. One has to wait until Act three for the tenor to successfully woo his soprano, possibly the longest seduction in opera history. Prior to this, Marguerite sings barely a line in the preceding two acts. The lovers pairing is only really established at the very end of Act three, and by the beginning of Act four, we learn that Faust has already abandoned his conquest. There are long periods of music without singing and, as delightful as Gounod’s score is, this occasionally gives the impression of dragging just a tad, with some of the drawn-out enactments seeming superfluous.

Romanian tenor Stefan Pop takes the lead as the eponymous character, firstly putting in a cogent performance as the old Faust, before transforming into the ebullient younger version. He carries himself well for a big man, conducting himself with vivacious ease and bonhomie, but still capable of showing palpable vulnerability and anguish when called for. His early scenes convinced as the aged Faust, tired of life, looking to his demise for relief, yet reanimated with longing as he is shown an image of Marguerite through the transparent curtain. He sings with a clean, polished, bright tenor instrument with suitable gleam at the top that carries well around the theatre. He also employs wonderful color, reminiscent of the ‘old school’ tenors of a bygone age. He was cautious with his upper register, which presented on a couple of occasions a slight restriction, but this did not detract from the beauty of his line. His keynote aria, “Salut demeure chaste et pure,” was sung with great sensitivity and proficiency, being rewarded with well-deserved applause. His interactions and duet with Marguerite, “Il se fait tard! Adieu!,” were meltingly gorgeous and his final act pleas for his love to join him were highly emotive.

His love, Marguerite, is sung here by Bolivian-Albanian soprano Carolina López Moreno in her Royal Opera debut, replacing an indisposed Lisette Oropesa. She is a remarkable talent with potent vocal power and a wonderful timbre, great phrasing and a divine, melting pianissimo which she employs to exquisite effect. She also shows great promise as an actor; compelling as both a demure innocent and as a broken woman in the throes of madness in her final scenes. Her “Jewel Song,” “Ah! je ris de me voir si belle,” was enchanting. Her entreaties and prayers in the fourth act church scene were heart breaking. Her command of the French language was not great, but I have always thought it overly-pedantic of critics who go to great lengths to point this out.

Polish bass Adam Palka, replacing Erwin Schrott, gave a delightfully devilish performance as Méphistophélès, all laid-back swagger and cock-sure defiance. Vocally cautious at first, he soon came into his own, delivering a stirring “Le Veau d’Or est toujours debout” in the second act, suitably antagonizing the town’s residents and attendant soldiers. He plays with just the right blend of malevolence and wit. Suitably menacing when dispensing his curses and promises of eternal damnation, yet not averse to humorous asides, as when being overwhelmed and overpowered by the amorous advances of an admirer. His performance in the final act, replete with black dress and tiara, where he oversees the re-enactment of the consequences of Faust’s actions, is both compelling and disturbing in equal measure.

The most rapturous curtain call applause of the evening, however, was reserved for Boris Pinkhasovich in the role of Valentin, soldier and brother to Marguerite. He sang a beautifully measured and delivered “O sainte médaille…. Avant de quitter ces lieux” in the second act and a remarkably powerful and poignant “Ecoute moi bien Margherite,” infusing his phrases with slight but effective, guttural sobs. It was an astonishingly HUGE performance for a role so comparatively minor.

The role of Siébel, a lovesick admirer of Marguerite, is sung by Chinese mezzo soprano Hongni Wu. Her keynote aria, “Faites-lui mes aveux,” was impassioned and sweet. I would have liked to have heard more of her fine voice.

Great support was provided by both Estonian mezzo Monika-Evelin Liiv in the role of Marthe Schwertlein, Marguerite’s guardian and neighbor who gets to ham it up and procure (briefly) Méphistophélès in her clutches, and British bass-baritone Ossian Huskinson as Wagner, Valentin’s companion.

Paule Constable’s lighting design illustrated the amazing sets, not only in the use of highlighting spots and subtle building interiors, but also in their transitioning use to reveal key backdrop moments.

The stage gets super busy at times with soldiers, dancers, ballerinas, acrobats, children and chorus members all playing their part. Choreographer Michael Keegan-Dolan and revival choreographer Emmanuel Obeya did a splendid job in not only making the whole thing work well but also in devising some pretty impressive feats for key performers to perform. The ballet sequences in particular, were quite exquisite.

I always reserve special plaudits for the Royal Opera Chorus, and I shall undoubtedly continue to do so, given their magnificence. They are the absolute backbone of so many performances. Chorus Master William Spaulding deserves every plaudit he receives, and more.

The Royal Opera Orchestra, on this occasion conducted by Maurizio Benini, guided his charges effortlessly through Gounod’s incredibly diverse score.

Ultimately, this is a solid spectacle, visually and auditorily. It has a propensity to be both shocking and moving; at times graphic and crude, if not revulsive; but I was left feeling, strangely, that its overall message was not without profundity.