Sokurov's 2011 'Faust' finally makes its local debut
Their endless day together encompasses a rowdy inn, the vaguely unsavory pursuit of dewy Margarete (Isolda Dychauk), and finally a sort of death in a volcanic landscape that's like the setting for a creation myth — one encompassing both the religion Faust resists and the science he practices merely as "something to do to fill the void," comparing it to his inamorata's knitting.
There's also the revelation of a naked Muller at the baths as some sort of a-human, asexual fleshy lump, with useless penis-tail on his backside; the unrecognizable fleeting specter of Hanna Schygulla as Frau Muller; a monkey on the moon glimpsed through telescope; poor Wagner revealing the "homunculus" he's bred from "oils of asparagus and dandelion mixed with hyena's liver," a pathetic tiny monster as doomed as the Eraserhead (1977) baby.
Faust completes Sokurov's tetralogy on power and corruption, which otherwise consisted of druggy fantasias about real historical leaders: 1999's Moloch about Hitler, which showed once at the San Francisco International Film Festival; 2001's Taurus (Stalin), which hardly played anywhere; and 2005's stilted The Sun (Emperor Hirohito), which rather inexplicably played everywhere. Coming complete with the director's trademark distortion effects (in both color tinting and image aspect), Faust has a soft, queasy, pickled feel, like a disquieting dream too fascinating to wake yourself from. Andrey Sigle's orchestral score rolls beneath dislocating visuals, a constant wave assuring no one aboard gains their sea legs.
For all actual mention of the soul in a script devised with prior collaborators Yuri Arabov and Marina Koreneva, this is a less "spiritual" film than many Sokurov has managed before. God (or whomever) knows you are likelier to sense his very Russian mysticism as a redemptive force in Mother and Son, not to mention 2007's Alexandra or such Soviet-era cries in the dark as Days of Eclipse (1988) or The Second Circle (1990). Faust is beautiful in its distinctive aesthetics, even if its view of human existence is philosophically, ornately ugly. It's also antic in the semi-subterranean way you might expect from a once frequently-banned artist raised in Siberia. Nearly a decade ago he said this project would be "a very colorful, elegant picture with a lot of Strauss music and a smell of chocolate." Always with the jokes, that Sokurov. *
FAUST opens Fri/18 at the Roxie Theater.
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