Review: MARTIN GUERRE, Old Vic Theatre
Photo credit: Helen Maybanks
Upon entering the now familiar in-the-round staging of the Old Vic auditorium, a small central ramshackle stack of crates and old-world farming equipment prompted an audience member to comment, “Is this a barricade I see before me?” But alas, Alain Boublil and Claude-Michel Schönberg’s far superior period French epic, Les Misérables, now in its phenomenal 40th year, casts a long, overbearing shadow over its inferior but plucky contender to the throne, Martin Guerre. Following Les Misérables and Miss Saigon, Martin Guerre was always the problem-child show for Boublil and Schönberg. First staged to mixed critical reactions in London in 1996, it is understandable that, much like their protagonist, the duo wanted to return after a long absence to try to fix this problematic folk tale.
Martin Guerre is inspired by the real-life tale of a 16th-century peasant who returns to his wife and small French village after seven years serving as a soldier, only for his identity to be questioned. (To say any more would risk spoilers.) To help right former wrongs, Alain Boublil and Claude-Michel Schönberg are joined by departing Old Vic Artistic Director and self-confessed Martin Guerre superfan Matthew Warchus, who is no stranger to wrangling existing material into hit musicals, with Matilda and Groundhog Day under his belt.
Warchus’ tenure at the Old Vic has been defined by the success of his recent intimate in-the-round stagings. It is perhaps little surprise that a similarly staged version of The Crucible at the Old Vic first reignited Boublil and Schönberg’s interest in a scaled-down, more intimate take on Martin Guerre. While religion and war remain central themes, this version of Martin Guerre bears a striking resemblance to The Crucible, exploring themes of otherworldly possession, false prophets and mob justice. There is even a sense of a twisting true-crime thriller in the way the story unfolds, and the newly structured narrative certainly feels more concise and propulsive, fixing many of the original story’s issues, although a degree of suspension of disbelief is still required at times.
The folk music inflections added to the score are a welcome addition to the overall feel of the condensed show, but the songs, overall, remain largely forgettable despite the epic swell of the ensemble numbers and the straightforward, narrative-driving lyrics. There is, however, one exception: the show-stopping ‘Someday’, introduced through new lyrics by Alain Boublil, Annabel Mutale Reed and Paul Hodge, and sung with emotional heft by Liv Andrusier in a firecracker performance that sees her character, Bertrande, rightfully repositioned as the emotional core of the story. The only other song of note is the original title track, which, while rousing enough, carries too many echoes of a Les Misérables B-side. The role of Guerre is divided among several actors, but only Shane O’Riordan is given enough material to truly shine in the role.
Special mentions should go to Colin Ryan, who brings a subtle and endearing vigour to Benoit, offering the only morsels of light within the darkness, and Adam Pearce, whose enigmatic performance as Father Dominic adds gravitas to proceedings.
Warchus has clearly immersed this production in nods to ancient folklore, with Rob Howell's simple set carpeted in red grit that encircles the stage floor. A nod to both the drought that plagues the village and the blood that has been, and will again be spilled, it adds an earthy richness to the design, as it is disturbed under foot. Hugh Vanstone’s rich yellow and blue lighting is similarly effective when it casts a runway of light through the centre of the stage to haunting effect. Lizzie Gee’s vibrant circular ensemble choreography is reminiscent of both country fair pole dances and demonic rituals, lanterns aloft and cloaks adding an ominous atmosphere. However, the repeated waving of large flags feels counterproductive in a production striving to emerge from Les Misérables’ shadow.
Warchus effortlessly moves his large cast around the small space with elegance, and the multiple entrances and exits so close to the front row make for exciting scene changes. However, the inevitable downside of staging a musical in the round is that, at points, principal characters must sing with their backs to large sections of the audience. As a result, they have no clear direction in which to focus their emotion, and some of it risks getting lost despite the proximity between actor and audience.
Martin Guerre is ultimately an allegory for the fragility of life and faith, and for how herd mentality, coupled with the lies people tell themselves to make sense of their own misfortunes, encourages them to place blame on others.
The legacy of Alain Boublil and Claude-Michel Schönberg is already cemented for generations to come, and they have done everything they can to fix the problem child, Martin Guerre. But perhaps the biggest change needed was to the title itself. Bertrande Guerre has a nice ring to it.
*** Three stars
Reviewed by: Phil Meikle
Martin Guerre plays at The Old Vic Theatre until 31 October, with tickets available here.
