Fausto

Murnau's final German film is a beautiful affair. It was seemingly archaic at the time of its creation, but in fact it is excellently relevant then and now. It is both playful and evil. Formally, it is so creative that you have to expect some other great special effect or at least a surprising composition in every scene. This spectacular experience is an example of the collective work of an extraordinarily talented team of people, many of whom Hollywood was already waiting for almost immediately, while the others got extraordinary European work for many years to come. The name amounts to a concept and a strong story in its own right. Jannings' Mephisto is royalty in every gesture and facial expression, complete with the best costumes. Fuetterer's archangel is a capable second to Jannings' kingship. Ekman's title character is the interpretation to which all other transcriptions are always compared. Horn's Margaret is not just a symbol of humiliated virtue, but a real person full of hope, who faces only pain and death. Dieterle's Valentin is a great guy. If I had to give an example of a film that is meant to open eyes where the only synonym for silent film is the unflattering idea of the silent comedy, I would definitely recommend Faust. (01/11/2020)

An example of German expressionism in all its glory. Monumental sets incorporated into the narrative, psychologising of the characters by means of expressive lighting, the actor’s body as a visual element that creates meaning, and strangely deformed set pieces serving to set the mood. Despite the advanced technical level, with the occasional somewhat exhibitionistic use of tricks, most of my attention was focused on Jannings’ Mephisto. He not only controls the fates of the characters, who – typically for expressionism – lose control over their own decision-making (the unforgettable scene in which Mephisto uses his cape as a theatre curtain), but also masterfully rules over the whole film with his lively eyebrows. He set a heretofore unsurpassed benchmark for assessing the charisma of cinematic devils. First by Kyser in pre-production, drawing from German fairy tales, and during production by Hoffman, drawing from the legacy of German romantic painting, romantic motifs were amplified beyond the scope of Goethe’s play, which is forcefully evident in the one-word climax, whose pathos is nothing to laugh at, as it fits seamlessly into the overall opulence of the film. Probably no one would have come up with a more universal and more urgent message and it is difficult to think of one today. Contemporary viewers would scorn such simplification in a modern epic. Here, however, the poetic point perfectly tops off a great story told in grand style. In my opinion, Murnau succeeded in his attempt to transform “home-grown” material into a global spectacle. 85% (20/07/2014)

F. W. Murnau really found himself in the horror genre and made films that are unforgettable and that still have the right effect on the viewer years later. The scenes here are so terrifying that they're hardly seen today. It's mainly because the creators had to work primarily with visuals, so they focused on them as much as possible. And it shows. It's very noticeable. Regardless of its age or the fact that it's a silent film, its horror remains timeless. (28/11/2015)

I stood by my three stars the whole time because of the miscast character of Mephistopheles (who just reminded me of Postránecký here) and the skipping of the storyline from depressing horror to almost romantic comedy, but the depressing ending and the kiss at the border decided everything... yeah we’re romantic souls -) Nosferatu is still the best though (12/08/2009)