(I always wanted to say that.)
Woyzeck is a designer's nightmare but an actor's dream: a tragedy of immediate imagery, almost written for the MTV generation. Scenes that last at most two pages flicker around archetypes like the overbearing Major and the menacing Doctor, while the play's more human characters find themselves caught in between. There are searingly tragic moments (as befits the genre). There are also darkly funny ones: Woyzeck's conspiracy theories, Andres's childish songs, the Scholar's politically incorrect comments.
Buchner left the world young, and if this play is any indication, that's a tragedy too. As a reader, an actor or a (shudder) designer, you'll enjoy being swept along by his work.