ajhlovestheatre

FRANZ AND MARIE 

inspired by Georg Büchner’s Woyzeck 

book and lyrics by Chris Broderick

in a new adaptation by Teresa Howard

music by Rob Shepherd and Chris Broderick 

additional music by Steven Edis

Charing Cross Theatre, London – until 14 November 2026

running time: 2 hours 20 minutes including interval 

https://charingcrosstheatre.co.uk/theatre/franz-marie

Georg Büchner’s Woyzeck, probably written in 1836 but left unfinished before the playwright’s death the following year, is a strange, unsettling play. A series of fragmented scenes the intended order of which is still unclear to scholars and dramaturgs, one wouldn’t imagine a musical version of it to be a barrel of laughs (Gawd knows, Alban Berg’s 1922 opera version certainly isn’t) but then again you wouldn’t necessarily expect it to be as engrossing and affecting as Franz and Marie turns out to be either. 

Adapted by Teresa Howard from a Korean-commissioned distillation of the Büchner original, this folk-rock actor-musician led adaptation of the grim tale of privations, manipulation and murder that gives the women more agency than its source material, it exerts considerable power. It also pulls few punches in evoking the shadowy, cruel world of impoverished soldier Franz Woyzeck (Brenock O’Connor, heartrending), forced alongside his military activities to endure humiliating work as a sort-of human guinea pig in the scientific experiments of an unfeeling doctor so that he can help feed the newborn baby he has conceived with local village girl Marie (Jade Oswald, absolutely terrific). Sounds like tough going, right? 

Well, yes it is, insofar as degradation, desperation and suffering should never be an easy watch, but the story is told in Michael Oakley’s production with such theatrical flair and psychological insight, plus a fascinating, accomplished score that it turns out to be more of a pleasure than a chore. The exhilaration of the music by Rob Shepherd and Chris Broderick (collectively known as Kentish folk-punk band The Singing Loins), with additions by Steven Edis who’s also responsible for the gratifyingly earthy orchestrations, goes some way towards mitigating against the sadness of the story. The folky flavour is inevitably likely to draw comparisons among musical theatre aficionados with Once, Come From Away and Benjamin Button and, if there’s nothing in Franz and Marie that is quite as memorable as those heart-soaring, tear-soaked tuners, this score has a vitality and soul-stirring urgency all of its own. The songs are very good indeed, even if the second half couple maybe afford to lose a couple of them.

As well as the folk influences, there are hints of Kurt Weill in the distressing act one finale that sees Franz reach the apotheosis of his mishandling by the horrible doctor and his cohorts and, later, when the wheels really come off Franz’s mental health and his relationship with Marie, the music goes full rock, which proves tremendously effective. Broderick’s lyrics have a similar duality: simple rhymes that never quite tip over into banality for the working class villagers, raw crudity for the fecund Drum Major who fancies Marie and high camp verbosity for the cosseted Captain whose casual lack of regard for flailing Franz is appalling. 

If the presentation of the suffering of the poor, of which Franz Woyzeck is the emblem, versus the self-serving callousness of the rich and privileged, is a little on-the-nose, that’s a criticism that can be levelled at the source material as much as the musical. The outrage may be a tad lacking in nuance but it’s deeply felt and the anger burns white-hot.

O’Connor’s tortured soul hero and Oswald’s pragmatic, tough but kind Marie are utterly convincing, and force you to care from the very outset, while keeping cheap sentimentality entirely at bay. They lead a company of impressive multi-disciplinary artists. Matthew Haywood is hot and horrible as the priapic Drum Major whose attempts to rent asunder the central relationship drives much of the plot, Richard Emerson Gould and Mark Meadows are equally unpleasant and equally brilliant as the exploitative Doctor and Captain who contribute to Franz’s pain. Elaine Hua Jones makes a strong impression as Kat, initially Marie’s antagonist but eventually her staunchest supporter, as does Steve Simmonds as a snarling Sergeant. Max Alexander-Taylor does shining, lovely work as Franz’s only real friend, who gets a conclusion that makes wonderful dramatic sense while providing a real gut punch.

Oakley’s production has an appropriately organic, earthy feel, from Ben Wright’s expressive choreography to having the cast pull on ropes to manipulate the rising and falling sails of Bretta Gerecke’s striking set. The sound design by Andrew Johnson gets the balance right between voices, instruments, and sometimes unsettling aural effects, and lighting designer Christopher Nairne bathes everything in the expressionistic blood red moon of Büchner’s imagination and original text.

Shows such as Les Mis, Miss Saigon, Blood Brothers, Rent and even Sweeney Todd repeatedly proved that human despair can translate into potent musical theatre, and Franz and Marie is a worthy addition to the canon of melodic misery. If the adage “life is hard and then you die” were to be encapsulated into a show, then this is it. The sheer talent and depth of accomplishment are uplifting though. I loved it.