Cyrano de Bergerac receives a playful, queer treatment in Virginia Gay’s charmingly rom-comified adaptation that brings joy and femininity to the fore.
Boasting reams of heart, energy and poetic wisdom, the ensemble production deconstructs the story of its insecure poet-soldier with a three-part chorus (an expertly balanced Tessa Wong, David Tarkenter and Tanvi Virmani), stretching the fabric of Edmond Rostand’s romantic tragedy (or ‘heroic comedy’) to comment on gender, doomed love and universal feelings of inadequacy.
Cyrano, here played by Gay herself with a staunch exuberance, is in love with Roxanne (a warm and cheeky Jessica Whitehurst), but her capacity to woo is stymied by the unsightly monstrosity she carries on her face: her nose. In her desperate need to reach Roxanne, she offers her words to Yan (played by impressively varied Joseph Evans), a hapless himbo who lacks the mental acuity to convey his feelings, leading to confusion, heartache and ultimately, betrayal.
Its tale of seductive language and concealed identities is a staple for fans of classical romance, and Gay’s energetic script effectively lifts its poetic heart and quick-witted ‘panache’ with equal amounts of knowing reference and accessible context. In flipping the gender roles, the setup becomes much more a commentary on the respective eloquence of femininity and masculinity, the famous balcony scene placing the soul of Sappho in the body of Adonis with humorous and achingly beautiful body doubling.
It’s at its best when it leans into these realms of heightened desire, grappling with big ideas and the rich power of words. Amanda Stoodley’s playground-like design and director Clare Watson’s pitch-perfect use of dance work well with the ensemble to lighten the drama, only occasionally undermining its emotional force with interactive party tricks. A larger issue is the believability of how the central relationship plays out. While the treatment functions to knock both Roxanne and Rostand’s legacy off their pedestals, the version of love we are left with doesn’t quite feel real, and in insisting on a happy ending, the story misses the cathartic release and return to reality that a more tragic or ambivalent resolution might deliver.
Despite this, Cyrano is an incredibly impressive attempt to wrangle with the inherent fabrications at the heart of romance. It’s fun, intelligent and brilliantly acted: a bold and inviting welcome to the world of the play that achieves a level of freshness that few adaptations are capable of.
