The tiny Watermill has never been afraid of squeezing a gallon into a pint pot. But while director Craig Revel Horwood makes the case that less is more in presenting this return of the soldier musical as a chamber piece, it goes against the grain of the overblown romanticism of Alain Boublil and Claude-Michel Schonberg's works, such as Les Miserables and Miss Saigon.
Martin Guerre was inspired by the 16th-century trial of a man who committed identity theft by claiming to be the husband of Bertrande de Rois, a woman whose partner had abandoned her years before. But it just doesn't hold together: this is a piece that aspires to tackle religious division - Bertrande and her impostor husband's conversion to Protestantism brings about their downfall - and the metaphysical nature of self, but every time it is about to get interesting, it sinks back into heaving bosoms and lingering looks.
Mind you, you can see why Bertrande is so attracted to her new mate: despite the complete absence of personality, he is a considerate lover and a walking DIY manual. Presumably, every time she has doubts about whether he is who he says he is, she just lies back and thinks about the new shelving in the kitchen.
This would be strictly one for the Les Mis fans were it not for a production and cast who once again demonstrate why the Watermill deserves its place high on the roster of British regional theatres. They go at it full pelt, and if nobody has much to work on in the way of character, the production cuts the oversweet lushness and gives the occasional glimpse of the spare tragedy this might have been.
· Until September 1. Box office: 01635 46044.
