Even the most intelligent and bold stage auteurs can fall into the trap of cliche. Having caught the talented Bay Area writer-director Mark Jackson’s expressionistic adaptation of Goethe’s Faust at Shotgun Players at the weekend, I’ve come to the conclusion that the image of a young woman with red paint smeared below the waistline on the front of her dress may be in dire need of retirement.
Often used to suggest insanity and/or loss of innocence, a bloodstain on the nether-regions of an actress’ clothes seems to crop up time and time again in plays and some films. One memorable example is Helena Bonham Carter as Ophelia in Franco Zeffirelli’s 1990 movie version of Hamlet opposite Mel Gibson. The image is extremely powerful and visceral. But it’s been so over-used by directors that it’s overstepped the line between engaging theatre-savvy audiences and boring them.
In Jackson’s Faust Part 1, actress Blythe Foster as Gretchen finds herself in this unfortunate predicament before she — surprise, surprise — slits her throat with a knife.
There’s part of me that wonders whether Jackson is trying to exploit the cliches of expressionism in this scene for artistic effect. Not only does Gretchen wear the bloodied dress, but she’s also got botched makeup smeared haphazardly all over her face. She wears her lipstick on her cheek and her eyes look like bruises thanks to the puffs of blue-green makeup all over them.
Jackson exploits the archetype of feminine madness and disintegration so strongly that it’s possible that he might be asking us to look beyond these cliches and see some deeper significance in them. But if that’s the case, the meaning of this visual image in an otherwise thoughtful production was lost on me.