It's a strange feeling, the early Faust, the young, inquisitive Faust in an old lecture hall at the university. It fits so well, the tormenting monologues about the finiteness of knowledge, the dogged discussions about meaning and existence - where else but before or behind the lectern do they have to be conducted, when other than in student days are they so existentially conducted.
So laments Dr. Faust his 'Have now oh...' in a weak minute in front of the students who are serenading him for his birthday. Mephisto, on the other hand, allows himself to be courted as an honorable professor and secretly seduces his docile studiosi with ambiguous, slippery offers. While Gretchen, as a cleaning lady, taught the teaching formulas - or empty formulas? - wipes off the board. (...)
Beautiful images emerge in the lecture hall, and when Gretchen sings a Spanish lullaby for her dead child as if in a trance, 'Faust' is no longer just a German drama, but quite simply a human drama.
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