It’s a sad thing that the magic of some classics from literature can sometimes get lost in all the pomp and ‘respect’ surrounding said classic. Christopher Marlowe’s ‘Dr Faustus’ is such a classic. A-Level text, with Tudor language up to the chin, and oodles of influence inspiring in other high brow arts – it’s subversively naughty, lecherous, and packed with timeless themes. Primed for antipodean theatre company Half Trick to gobble up and spew all over their guest performer for our entertainment, in this case comedian Juliette Burton who has been cast but crucially not rehearsed as the title character. It’s an ambush for protagonist and audience alike, full of wickedness and philosophical engagement. And marmalade too, surprisingly.
For those not in the know, ‘Dr Faustus’ is the tale of an academic who sells his soul to a demon to get his wishes fulfilled on Earth. This abridged version touches on the main points and language of the original Marlowe play. Burton is game and engaging, projecting not only the heavily redacted script in her hand but also some juicy asides reflecting her own bizarre experience of proceedings. Her encounter with the 7 Deadly Sins is a highlight as she’s batted back and forth by the cast, neatly exploding her Sophie’s Choice into further performance. The cast torture and play with Burton in a most delightful fashion, another highlight being Gluttony spooning out marmalade from a jar by the paw-ful and wiping it on her face like a demonic Winnie-the-Pooh. They collectively orbit around Burton’s self-drawn demon circle, encaging her and allowing them free movement, highlighting the illusion of limited freedom Faustus has with his wishes and apparent power. Faustus/Juliette is always on the back foot and they are the expert on-text familiars from Heaven and Hell.
Production from Half Trick may be low cost, but the expertise and knowledge of the text and their characters elevates the show. Some of the language may be lost in the melee but the message and journey is clear. It’s unnerving, even as we laugh. The small cast switch between addressing Burton as ‘Faustus’ and ‘Juliette’, have her read Latin off of cue cards with no idea what it means in an opening ritual, and cover her in an assortment of physical and psychological messes. The lines between actor and character are blurred, serving up a not only uncomfortably empathetic viewing but also an enjoyably feminist interpretation in this rather clever fresh Hell.
WundaBarn at the SpeigelGardens, 25 May 2026
