Billed as an exclusive first look at a new version of the musical by Alain Boublil and Claude-Michel Schönberg, it is easy to see what director Matthew Warchus is aiming for here – and that is usually a good start. His audience is challenged by originality, bold staging, (very French) realism and a serious piece of musical theatre.
The story is simple and familiar: a wastrel steals the identity of a dead friend in the hope of securing a better life. The setting – 16th-century rural France – proves troublesome, with religion, superstition and an obsession with land and wives competing for attention. Possibly, Warchus’s emphasis on just how strange it all is, alongside his focus on patriarchy, is a mistake. At times, there’s an air of The Wicker Man.
For good or ill, a lot sounds familiar. Fans of Les Misérables – and who isn’t one? – will prick up their ears at a few numbers. But Boublil and Schönberg are trying to be adventurous, and the result is interesting. The folk-inspired score, with new lyrics by Annabel Mutale Reed and Paul Hodge, has a martial edge and wants to provoke. The cast have evidently been instructed to deliver power and emotion. They can certainly do that. Liv Andrusier and Shane O’Riordan are good as the leads, while the ensemble is suitably mobbish (pitchforks help).
The show is at its best when it comes to staging. A musical in the round is tricky, but when it works, it can be hugely impressive. Warchus’s use of the space is exemplary. The lighting (credited to Hugh Vanstone, Luca Panetta and Toby Ison) is superb, Lizzi Gee’s choreography is strong, and the restraint of Rob Howell’s design is appropriate. I vaguely remember a revolving stage in the original production (and Ian Glenn falling off it). Achieving similar dynamism, drama and energy with seeming simplicity shows great skill.
Martin Guerre still doesn’t work, though. The emoting becomes grating, the menace fails to convince and the lack of humour makes it hard work. Perhaps the biggest problem is the characters. It’s hard to be interested in the OG Martin, while those in charge of the village are flat. Then there’s the thoroughly unconvincing baddie Guillaume. Barney Wilkinson’s performance yields diminishing returns the more violent the character becomes. Finally, there’s Benoit, the village idiot, surely one of the worst roles in musical theatre. No offence to Colin Ryan, who plays him, but the refrain – and accompanying scary puppet – is irritating and pointless.
This isn’t the first time major changes have been made to Martin Guerre. Warchus deserves admiration for his ambition, and there are some genuinely exciting moments. But I’d be surprised if this version changes many minds about the show, or becomes the big hit everyone once expected. It’s a shame, isn’t it?
Until 31 October 2026
Photo by Helen Maybanks