Aleksandr Sokurov
Faust

CONTAINS SPOILERS (not so much about the plot as about the scenes)

There are bad films, mediocre films, good films. Even very good films.

Then there are masterpieces, and Sokurov's Faust is, in my humble opinion, nearly a masterpiece.

Faust, the character who plays him, resembles Ralph Fiennes, only rougher and bulkier. The devil, the character who plays him, resembles Mr. Burns, the one from the Simpsons, yes him, and he resembles him a lot.

You know the story, Faust sells his soul to the devil, the contract signed in blood, etc. However, the film is a free reinterpretation of Goethe's work. The film is permeated by murky cinematography and an oppressive atmosphere, uncomfortable. As if that weren't enough, occasionally the shot becomes intentionally crooked and blurred.

What does the film tell?

It essentially tells of the meeting between Faust, a doctor, and the devil, a moneylender. Faust is poor, he doesn't have a penny, he has nothing to eat, yet it's not this that torments him. Faust is in search of the meaning of life, but he is restless, uneasy, yet resigned, in bad shape, confused, hungry.

And what about the devil?

Such a devil, personally, I've never seen before.

Forget the icon of the cunning, elegant, mustached devil, or with De Niro's long lacquered nails in Angel Heart.

Forget Al Pacino's talkative and explanatory devil from The Devil's Advocate.

Also forget the classic malevolent devil, infernal creature, the demon from The Exorcist or the conquering devil of the earth incarnated in the current Antichrist.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is as close as it gets to the very essence of evil.

This devil is the representation of chaos, of disorder, he is the embodiment of everything that can be interpreted, without any doubt of contradiction, as wrong, even in his physical appearance, at some point, the devil becomes completely naked and is a deformed monster, without genitals and with a hint of a goat tail attached to the sacrum.

The moneylender devil is a jovial and rogue old man, swaying and disorderly.

Energetic, clumsy, nosy, cunning, curious, conspirator, clumsy.

Cheerful, talkative, relentless, a phenomenon, who drinks hemlock to quench his thirst.

Throughout the film, Faust and the devil do nothing but walk, but it is not a seaside stroll with ice cream cone in hand.

It is a disjointed and frantic wandering, without an apparent destination, with the agitated devil choosing the path on the spot; let's go this way, he says occasionally, gesticulating theatrically, he leads, a spectral traffic cop.

Therefore, it is not a stroll; it is an absurd journey through the streets of the city, through filthy taverns, or perhaps into a church, because maybe the devil needs to relieve himself.

And around the two, a miserable, sticky humanity. I say sticky because another peculiar thing about the film is that there are multiple physical contacts between Faust and the devil, or the devil and the townsfolk, or the townsfolk among themselves. These aren't sexual contacts; it's as if they latch onto each other, like being compressed in a bus during rush hour. All this increases the sense of discomfort, unease, precariousness.

Naturally, along the way, the two chatter, discuss, philosophize, but not too much in the end. It's not the dialogues that nail you to the seat; it's the two of them, Faust and the devil, their going, their bond, yes, an indissoluble bond, the devil never lets go of Faust.

An angelic maiden, around whom the devil initially plots a plan entirely worthy of him, a diabolical plan, will inevitably tip the scales.

Faust will lose his mind for her, his mind and his soul.