A conversation about the production of Faust with Andrea Pfaehler (director) and Rafael Tavares (eurythmy director) in anticipation of the 2026 Faust summer festival. Questions by Louis Defèche.
Louis Defèche: The play is called Faust, but Mephisto really drives the plot. What does that signify?
Andrea Pfaehler: Mephisto is everywhere and always present, but he doesn’t always find a way to exert his influence. I think that we humans have collectively entered into a pact. The way I see it, this is necessary: on the one hand, to achieve freedom, while on the other, it presents an ongoing challenge; we must find a conscious way of dealing with this servant, this seducer, this spirit who continuously wills evil yet continuously brings about good. His omnipresence in Goethe’s Faust is so great that the play could just as well be called Mephisto.
In our production, we want to bring out Mephisto’s multifaceted nature and adaptability by having five Mephistos who swarm around Faust and all the other characters. We’re not dealing with a single entity with whom we can grow accustomed: sometimes he is many, filling the space around; sometimes he’s just one. Sometimes he’s almost human—perhaps even the only one around for conversation during lonely hours. Sometimes he dominates the scene; sometimes he’s merely a guest. And then there are certain moments when there’s no trace of Mephisto at all. In these moments, Faust knows that physical reality is not the only thing he has access to. He reflects in these moments, comes to his senses, and is more at one with himself. I could say these are the moments when Faust slips away from the devil. Mephisto can’t just snap his fingers and win back a human being, even if he has made a pact with him. It’s just the opposite, in fact; Mephisto has to work at it, and it’s often quite a struggle for him. These moments offer a pause, a brief respite amid the hustle and bustle of life. Although Faust cannot banish Mephisto entirely in these moments, he can keep him at a distance and be independent. Being alone is not the same as being lonely. Faust is lonely when he’s surrounded by many Mephistos, but he feels relieved when he’s alone without him.
Mephisto is actually given everything in the play that draws us in. He has the catchiest lines, a thousand punchlines, and a sense of humor. But the whole thing is really about this one human being; it’s about us, about what it means to be human. The Faust on the stage gives this a face and speech, something that—in everyday life—is intangible due to the fact that our lives are normally so fast-paced and multi-layered.
Even in death, Mephisto is by his side.
Pfaehler: Yes, Faust dies in his arms. Mephisto has the lemurs prepare a grave, and he waits beside the corpse, waiting to claim the soul. Heaven intervenes; as Faust’s soul detaches itself from his physical body, the angels carry him upward. In the heavenly, spiritual realm, Mephisto can’t do anything anymore; he is powerless. He is left empty-handed after a ridiculous expenditure of time and forces and then curses his fate. We almost feel sorry for him in this monologue, which Urs Bihler delivers in a truly impressive performance. On his journey upward Faust encounters everything from his life. He sheds these outer, encrusted layers like an onion and becomes a small, fresh, and ageless core.
Rafael Tavares: In depicting these holy moments—when Faust finds himself and the heavens open, for example, in the ascension scene—we’ve discovered how little is actually needed in terms of external elements. In this moment, it’s all about letting what is truly human stand in the center. Time also changes; it slows down, and the flow of action comes to an inner standstill. Eurythmy gestures recede and expression becomes atmosphere. The simplicity is clear even down to the costumes, makeup, and hair. Simplicity and clarity create an atmosphere that we rarely experience while on Earth but one that we sense deeply within.
Yes, that’s the strength of eurythmy. Angels don’t have to come on stage wearing artificial wings; instead, the simplicity of the human form is what is so compelling.
Tavares: The collaboration with Thomas Stott, Dominique Lorenz, and Joeri Meijer was really important for this effect. Their lighting design creates spaces imbued with this special sense of slowness. Light, movement, and music begin to merge. Maybe this is exactly what we associate with heaven: opposites recede, differences dissolve, and everything becomes part of a shared whole.
Pfaehler: To crystallize and stage this in eurythmy, that’s your handwriting, your artistic touch. At the Goetheanum, we’re dealing with deeply ingrained viewing habits in regard to the Faust productions. These habits have already been broken down in the drama, and now the same is happening in eurythmy. This means that the eurythmists are not just acting like angels. Instead, they take time to contemplate themselves in this regard, and through this self-reflection, they then find a way not just to present themselves, but to perform eurythmy so that the audience knows, “These are angels.” In the scene of “The Mountain Gorges,” I feel we’ve taken a good step forward. In the “Prologue,”we’re still on the way, because we’re still dealing with old habits there—conceptions of a classical heaven with one aged God. Goethe describes the archangels and images immediately spring into our minds: Angels in long robes lead our eyes down a familiar track—“Ah, I understand!” That’s when it’s actually worth confusing the mind a little bit in order to help new feelings arise!
Yes, when a work of art speaks to my heart, it’s truly nourishing.
Tavares: The heavens at the beginning of Faust are not without pathos in our production either. This is a conscious decision. The heavens of the Father God open up, the heavens that many people perceive as the original, archetypal heavens of humanity. We didn’t want to remove the solemnity and grandeur from this image, but we also strove to move beyond the pathos to achieve a special clarity. I’m interested in the question of how an encounter with a host of angels can be experienced on the stage without simply presenting it as such. That’s why we’re looking for a simplicity in movement, space, and appearance that gives a subtle impression of what we generally associate with angelic beauty. It’s not about acting like angels, but instead we try to create a space where the audience can experience something of the harmony, purity, and vastness we associate with the presence of angelic beings. So the scene moves between the grandeur of the traditional image of heaven and a quieter, more human experience of the spiritual—an experience that is more sensed than explained.
Pfaehler: Yes, at the same time, I wonder why people speak of an “old” and a “new” heaven. In the “Prologue” there’s a heaven where this divine voice takes an unbelievable leap of faith in regards to our own human path; the voice has an unconditional trust in us. At the end, the feminine force lifts Faust up; this is a human force—it’s Gretchen working from the spiritual world. Such a wonderful image: humans help to lift each other up to heaven. Trust and connection.
Going back to the beginning again, what exactly is Faust’s problem?
Pfaehler: He has a problem that I think more than a few people are familiar with. He’s trapped in his own pictures and conceptions, in his factual knowledge of the world. His thirst for knowledge has put him too much in his head; his connection to life and to other people has dried up. Nature still provides him strength, but living together with others—human encounters, interactions, and relationships—makes him more and more anxious. He lives—as Goethe paints for us in grand images—in a bubble of his own creation. It is only as big as the world he comprehends and is filled only with things that have to do with him. There’s nothing foreign in his room, no unknown things or people. That’s why—in the set design—we have the wall of books rising up to infinity, an infinity where we only encounter ourselves. Lost in his own world, he no longer sees the heavens, nor the Earth. He’s trapped in a world of his own mind. Wagner is his closest confidant, but in the dialogues between the two it’s clear they cannot truly connect. On an intellectual level, Mephisto is his first real conversation partner. It is through him that he gains access to the sensorium of life and then falls in love with Gretchen. The love that blossoms between the two thwarts Mephisto’s plan.
Tavares: He senses the boredom in this cosmos of facts and understanding. He’s paralyzed by the lifelessness of this world of mental pictures. This is a feeling we are all too familiar with today. All this kind of knowledge alienates us from real life, its depth, its secrets, and—like Faust—we yearn for this life that remains so incomprehensible.
Why does he run into the devil in this moment?
Tavares: Faust no longer discovers anything new. He no longer looks with wonder at the world, no longer finds joy in anything. Everything is gray. Through all his logical thinking and understanding, he’s lost his zest for life.
Pfaehler: In the “Prologue,” God is the first to mention the name Faust. “Do you know Faust?” he asks Mephisto. Faust didn’t seek the devil, nor Mephisto him. Their meeting comes from a higher power. That is quite interesting and can even be a source of comfort. Of course, the timing must be right. Faust wants to do away with himself, not to bring his life to an end, but because he wants to know what it’s like on the other side.
“Man all too easily grows lax and mellow, he soon elects repose at any price; and so I like to pair him with a fellow to play the deuce, to stir, and to entice.”1 This is how God explains this devilish gift.
Pfaehler: Why God lets the devil loose on humanity, knowing full well how difficult this struggle will be, and yet still believes in humanity—that, I think, is one of the grand themes.
Tavares: To become human means to take our freedom in hand in the face of temptation and darkness. It’s always Faust who makes the decisions, who drinks the elixir of youth, who wants to see Gretchen again. Mephisto grants him the power; how he uses it, which path he takes—that is up to Faust to decide.
Pfaehler: We cannot become human without the devil.
And what about the witch who brews the elixir of youth for Faust? On Walpurgis Night, a whole horde of witches even appears.
Pfaehler: The witches are the other side of Mephisto. So, the witches are Mephisto, and Mephisto is the witches. He just can’t himself “cast hexes.” If he could cast hexes, he probably wouldn’t be so eloquent and intellectual.
Tavares: The witches’ kitchen and Walpurgis Night depict a world where magic is not directed toward knowledge or development but to bring about a desired effect and to seduce. It’s about becoming younger, intoxication, desire, and the longing to cross boundaries. It is about the wish to rush or force something. That’s why, for me, these scenes are not only demonic but also profoundly human. They reveal a temptation: the wish for a shortcut. The longing for transformation is justifiable, but here it’s sought through a path that does not truly lead to freedom. One wants to replace development with intensity, maturation with experience, and inner work with external impact. Thus, Walpurgis Night appears as a counter-image to the heavenly scenes in Faust. There we experience clarity, orientation, and a connection to the spiritual. Here we encounter a world of confusion, the dissolution of boundaries, and the breakdown of fixed forms. It is precisely this polarity that constitutes the greatness of the drama.
Now, from evil to beauty—what does Faust experience through Gretchen?
Pfaehler: He has become young again, and what drives him is the power of youth. What he needs in order to enter the sensory world is passion, an openness for everything he meets. Then he meets Gretchen—by chance? There are no coincidences. Mephisto is not actually there. Gretchen is devout and has an unerring intuition. Mephisto is disappointed that Faust has fallen in love with Gretchen of all people. Gretchen is the unknown in his equation. Mephisto’s plan is constantly thwarted by Gretchen. She is his greatest adversary, right up to the very end in the dungeon. It’s fascinating to examine Gretchen’s story in relation to Mephisto, how she perceives him through her senses and through what she feels. She senses him in the atmosphere. She smells him. When she looks into his eyes, she sees the coldness. I’d say she is the only one who knows him but doesn’t recognize him. That’s why she’s a nightmare to him, because she sees right through him without ever actually connecting with him.
Tavares: Faust knows Gretchen as that power of youth he’s been deeply longing for. He experiences the world anew through her eyes. But I think it is more than just youth. Gretchen possesses a natural connection to life. What in Faust has been filtered through knowledge, concepts, and mental pictures is still alive in her in its most immediate form. She possesses something of that primal openness with which a person can encounter the world. That is why she shakes Faust so deeply. Perhaps Faust loves Gretchen so much because, through her, he senses what he’s been seeking: not just youth, not just beauty, but a connection to life itself that he’s lost.
Pfaehler: Exactly. It’s interesting, though, that there’s nothing for them to talk about. They don’t have a meaningful conversation in any of their scenes together. What they discuss in the garden is trivial, and during their conversation about religion they’re talking past each other. What exists between them is sensuality. And that doesn’t need words.
Tavares: What shocks me most is the way the power of evil affects Gretchen. I suffer along with her. She is innocent and defenseless, and she loses everything: her mother, her brother, and finally her child. Through her destiny, Goethe reveals the deepest wounds of the drama.
Margarethe [“Gretchen”] means “pearl.” The pearl inside the shell, born of pain. That is how she appears to us at the end of the second part.
Pfaehler: She leads him to heaven, but that doesn’t make the tragedy any less dramatic or brutal. That is the catharsis of the whole piece. And it needs that, otherwise it wouldn’t be a drama.
In Faust II, Helena is the great love of Faust. Who is Helena?
Pfaehler: Helena represents the feminine. It’s obvious that to capture the feminine, Goethe draws on this primordial Greek figure. The earthly encounter with the feminine is Gretchen; the spiritual encounter with the feminine is Helena. There is a moment when she comes close to the earthly realm, yet I still don’t see her as truly earthly; this happens in the castle courtyard. Goethe said that this scene is the heart of the entire Faust. This encounter brings something new: a new language, a new consciousness, and new life.
Tavares: In Helena, Faust encounters an image of beauty itself, an embodiment of his deep longing for beauty, harmony, and perfection. At the same time, I wonder if Faust goes a step too far here as well. He doesn’t want to simply behold and experience beauty but to hold onto it, possess it, and establish a future with it. Maybe this is precisely where we find the tragedy of this encounter. Beauty wants to be received, but it eludes possession. From this union arises Euphorion, a fascinating and at the same time contradictory figure who unites beauty, enthusiasm, freedom, and exuberance. We’ve been searching time and again over the years of this production for an appropriate form for this being. It was only through a more strongly dancelike eurythmy performance that we felt we were truly getting closer to its nature. For me, Euphorion is less a character than a movement, an impulse, a flash of light between heaven and Earth that can hardly be held onto and perhaps moves us deeply all the more precisely because of that.
Pfaehler: Mephisto isn’t in the castle courtyard. But in Arcadia, he’s watching everything. And then this child comes into the world, showing both instinctual passion and beauty.
Helena goes along with Faust’s courtship.
Pfaehler: “I feel so estranged. And yet I love you.”2 She is always in motion, moving away from him, toward him. And that is what he wants to make real and possess. Once he has it, he changes. It’s clear that he’s not a family man. And, in the conventional sense, she’s also not a mother.
Tavares: Faust always goes one step too far. That is his greatness, but also where he’s in danger. He’s never content with what he has already achieved but always strives for more, even when letting go might be the wiser choice.
In the final two acts, the play turns from this quest for the most beautiful and the highest toward war and land reclamation. Faust wants to push back the sea. What does that tell us?
Tavares: Land reclamation goes far beyond simply cultivating land. Here we encounter the age-old human impulse not only to shape nature, but also to subdue it. Faust wants to wrest space from the sea and impose his own will on nature. That is what makes this scene so modern and, at the same time, so ambivalent.
Pfaehler: I believe that here, too, Goethe shows that no task is too great for Faust. Whether he summons the Earth Spirit or calls Helena up from the underworld, nothing seems impossible to him. What does he know? He knows what holds the inner side of the world together. What he plans to do with land reclamation may be his first worthwhile project: to stand as a free people on free soil, a free people governing themselves. It is a social project in the time when he has grown old, slow, and, in the end, blind. And so Mephisto is able to deceive Faust one last time. Before Faust enters into the pact with Mephisto at the beginning of the play, he says, “If the swift moment I entreat: Tarry a while! You are so fair! Then forge the shackles to my feet, then I will gladly perish there!”3 Faust never utters this decisive sentence when he is experiencing the sensory pleasures that Mephisto offers him, but rather when he is able to think of something that is free from himself. And, then, in anticipation of this ideal, he takes his last breath.
More info and tickets Goethe’s Faust 1 + 2 at the Goetheanum, July 10–12 | 17–19 | 25–26, 2026
Translation Joshua Kelberman
Photos Laura Pfaehler
