Rehearsals are underway for the production of Faust at the Goetheanum. What kind of space is being created in this time of development? A conversation between Wolfgang Held and Andrea Pfaehler, director and artistic director of the production.
Wolfgang Held: In October, twenty actors and a number of eurythmists will perform Goethe’s Faust. All very unique individuals. How will they become an ensemble?
Andrea Pfaehler: We are rehearsing with the premiere on October 10 as our goal. For each individual, it is a very unique journey—infinitely different. And yet the goal is the same for all of us. It’s a mystery how we all will come together from so many different paths for the performance. Not only is the path unique to each individual, but the pace of the journey is also unique. To continue with the image: the vehicle, too, is also different for everyone’s journey.
Are there any transfers or layovers on this trip?
Yes, in the rehearsals, but interestingly also in the periods when the work we’ve done is given over to rest and settle. The scenes then develop further in that space of rest. Then, we can build on that, but we can’t predict what will come inwardly. There’s no certainty.
What gives you trust in the process, then?
Sometimes I find it’s a bit of a mystery what gives me, us, this foundation, and there are also times when the questions and issues surrounding this nine-hour production pile up—this is missing here, that is missing there. I believe trust comes from two sides: first, from what the actors carry within them, the treasure that each of them brings; and second, from the play itself—Goethe’s Faust. It is so huge that it carries us all. And we’re not starting from scratch, but with the new cast, we can also draw on the production from 2020.
So, working as an ensemble inspires trust, but at the same time, it means trusting each other, right?
For the actors, rehearsing means revealing themselves completely. They give their all, everything they have in that moment. And that complete and total “yes” to one another can only happen in a safe space of trust. As a director, I see where things should develop. It is much more important for me to be completely open to each individual, because it is through them that the play actually takes place. That is what directing means to me: creating conditions in conversation, in seeing and hearing together, where everyone can unfold their potential. I’m also very happy about working with Rafael and the eurythmy ensemble. It’s an enrichment!
It’s about mutual trust—the trust of the performers with each other and with me. It is a valuable asset that I see the strengths in each individual, and don’t demand anything from them that would be harmful. This also requires that they trust me. And I have to trust that it will all work in the end. It’s a space of trust, which is why it’s so difficult when someone who isn’t taking part in it comes and watches our rehearsals. Anyone who arrives fresh wants to see the end goal that the rehearsal is apparently working towards, and I understand that. They’re focused on results. But that’s sort of tricky, because every rehearsal is a step along the path and not a result in itself. It’s a journey where the presence of the goal somehow shines through. And at the same time, I can’t take that as the endpoint. The aim must always be in sight, but at the same time, we should be careful not to talk in the present about where we’re going or what that aim might ultimately look like. Otherwise, we lose the alchemy of the present.
What role do mistakes play in finding the right expression?
That’s the thing—you can’t make mistakes! There are no mistakes in rehearsals. Everything is open. When dynamics, thought processes, expression, and storyline work together, then it’s right. Creating this again and again means going further, deeper, and more precisely. In the best case scenario, this is how the rehearsal steps lead up to the performance.
Every rehearsal is a performance?
The correct way to do it is not written down anywhere. Because the right thing only emerges from doing it in the moment. And tomorrow, that moment will be a little different. What remains the same is the text. The text is the needle of the compass. But how we perform the text, in what mood, at what volume, with what force and inner movement, there is no right or wrong. It’s only possible to make mistakes if someone already knows what’s right. With acting, it’s different. You can only say, “That was perhaps a little too much of…” or “There should be less of that here.” The structure we all usually move around in, where we know which door is right and which is wrong, doesn’t exist on the stage.
And yet, in art, there are certain expressions that are more convincing than others, that are exactly right as they are given, where freedom somehow gives rise to something that appears absolutely necessary. That’s the miracle of art, isn’t it?
That’s probably true for the person who’s watching and listening. For the artist, it’s always true that you can do it this way or that way or even completely differently, because there’s no such thing as objectivity on the stage. Perhaps, we’re thinking: if you don’t die for it, if I’m not willing to die in order to find the right tone for this moment, then the miracle won’t happen. I actually have to die in every moment for it to be right. But I can’t know that beforehand. I only know it when it happens. That’s how free acting is. Can I say, “That form didn’t work exactly right”? The precision, the accuracy, lies in the realm of the soul. In Gretchen’s dungeon scene, for example, we ask ourselves with every line, “From what place do I think the character is speaking right now?” All I can do here is give the actors food for thought, helping them to access a place within themselves and to speak, think, and act from that place. In addition to holding the whole thing together, giving direction and challenging the actors, my job is to create a trusting atmosphere that invites them to explore inner spaces and test their artistic boundaries.
Are you meeting each other there for the first time?
Yes, I hope so. I think so, in the best case. That’s where the basic concept of a scene stands. I can picture everything in my head that we want to say with the scene, how the characters relate to each other, etc., and this conceptual work is important, of course, for me. And then Gretchen, Faust, and Mephisto start acting in front of me, and a lot of things are completely different. The thoughts were worthwhile, all the talking was important, but how the scene turns out comes from this deeper source.
Sometimes a house of cards collapses?
Yes, because the present is so powerful. If, during a rehearsal, things take a different turn than we’d planned with the dramaturgy, we are faced with a question: Do we say, “No, we had a different idea,” or do we say, “Yes, go ahead. See where it takes you.”? I always encourage the actor to follow their inner impulses. I have to be happy when they have impulses, when they offer something, and then I can draw on what’s coming out of them in the moment. That way, they can be completely artistic. There are enough restrictions as it is. They wear a costume they don’t choose; they’re given a role they don’t choose. They’re performing in a play they didn’t choose, and so on and so forth. Then there’s this one freedom—the rehearsal, the performance. That’s when they’re completely free, in the moment of performance.
What do you provide them in this moment?
My attention. Then I ask questions to help the performers find this inner place. Or I tell them a story or describe what the scene wants. The shoes the role wears are important, and preferably another item of clothing belonging to the character. Then I have a script in front of me and pick out notes from 1907. Someone played Gretchen in her own way 100 years ago. She suffered, searched, and found—in her own way. It was the same text. This shows the timelessness of Faust! And we give this eternity a present, an eternal presence.
Is there a third element that adds to the people and the text on stage, to this alchemy?
I don’t know if this is the place to say it, but after every performance, I thank my father, who’s passed away. I feel that it’s not just up to us whether it succeeds or not. In rehearsal, we struggle; it’s human. But during the performance, something completely different happens. Yes, then you need grace from the other side. I say the same thing as Anatevka, Tevye’s daughter, when she’s allowed to marry her beloved tailor Mottel: “Thank you, Papa.”
Faust 2025 at the Goetheanum
October 10-12th, October 18-19th, October 25-26th
- Production: Andrea Pfaehler
- Eurythmy: Rafael Tavares
- Co-direction: Isabelle Fortagne
- Dramaturgy: Wolfgang Held
- Music: Balz Aliesch
- Lighting: Thomas Stott / Dominique Lorenz
- Set design: Nils Frischknecht
- Costumes: Julia Strahl
Information and tickets faust.jetzt
Translation Joshua Kelberman
Photo Xue Li
