'Martin Guerre' lacks what made 'Les Mis' great

 By Michael Pettenato
Theater Editor

The third effort by Alain Boublil and Claude-Michel Schonberg, the creators of "Les Misérables" and "Miss Saigon," is an overproduced and overamplified version of an unemotional and uninteresting rendition of the Martin Guerre legend. Sound like a tough review? Try sitting through the showŠall three hours of it. A certain gentleman seated in the front row of the balcony provided the best entertainment of the evening by singing melodies from "Les Mis" that fit perfectly over this show's supposedly new material. The whole row was in uncomfortable stitches for 10 minutes, trying to suppress a laughter generated in part by this man's boldness, and in greater part by his keen perception.
"Martin Guerre" is like a poor satire of "Les Mis," entirely lacking its predecessor's emotional content and memorable score, and the problems seem unsolvable. Boublil and Schonberg have been working and reworking this material since 1991, and still haven't hit the mark. Their previous successes are due in no small part to grand, sweeping stories that require grand, sweeping music. "Martin Guerre" is more like a trashy novelette than an epic romance; it demands a score that treats the subject matter with an appropriate amount of importance.
The plot, relayed with great success in the film "Somersby," is inaccesible here. The setting is the small Catholic village of Artigat, France, in the mid 1500s. Martin Guerre refuses to consummate his marriage with Bertrande, and this sends the entire town into pandemonium. The villagers blame the drought on the fact that Bertrande is not pregnant, and they whip Martin to try to convince him to have sexual relations, but to no avail. If this plot does not seem logical, you are following perfectly.
What next? Martin dies at war, for now, and his friend Arnaud comes back to the village and takes Bertrande as his wife, under the assumed name of "Martin." Nobody seems to notice the impostor, not even Martin's family. Bertrande, in the meantime, doesn't care who she's sleeping with, as long as the man in her bed loves her. The village has rain, the Guerres have sex and all is well. Then the real Martin Guerre comes to reclaim his wife. The music swells. End of act one. Bring down the curtain and take a much-needed intermission.
The entire first act has the feel of back story, and at almost two hours in length, the audience is not excited at the prospect of returning at intermission.
The second act brings accusations, of all things, that Bertrande and "Martin" are Protestants (oh no!), and finally someone guesses that this "Martin" may not be the "real" Martin. There is a court trial to determine "Martin's" true identity, if Arnaud is lying, he could be hanged. At the moment before the judge's verdict, the real Martin comes into court to show everyone the truth. Arnaud is separated from Bertrande, put in jail, and his future is unsure. Meanwhile, the village is still in an uproar over rumors of Guerre family Protestantism, and somebody needs to pay for this sin. And in typical Boublil and Schonberg fashion, somebody has to die, tragically.
Every member of the cast has a list of Broadway and National Touring Company credits, and a voice to match. High Panero (Martin) and Stephen R. Buntrock (Arnaud) have exceptional voices. They represent the very highest quality of vocal training and virtuosity combined with an inability to communicate emotion. After the initial "Wow, what beautiful voices they have" reaction, there is nothing left to say. The material doesn't help. It is both lyrically and melodically bland, with the rare exception in the "I'm Martin Guerre" theme that appears at least four times. The sheer number of reprises of this song is laughable, but they are welcome relief from other monotonous melodies that pervade the evening.
When the material of a musical is poor, sometimes the enormous sets and lavish costumes create a spectacle that redeems the evening. Here, once again, "Martin Guerre" falls flat. The set has the kind of hydraulic wizardry that producer Cameron Mackintosh is known for, without any of the aesthetic appeal. The set is comprised mostly of a special wooden floor that rises and falls on demand to create a bed or a table.
The production could use more color and more scenery here, but ultimately, probably nothing could save this show, in its present form, from banality.

Copyright 2000 by the Daily Trojan. All rights reserved.
This article was published in Vol. 139, No. 38 (Wednesday, March 8, 2000), beginning on page 9 and ending on page 11.