Cyrano de Bergerac at
the American Airlines Theater
The
Roundabout Theater Company’s new production of Cyrano de Bergerac, the brilliant 1897 play by Edmond Rostand, is
witty, fast-paced, and action-packed.
One could, broadly, call it a comedy, but it is so much more than
that. Cyrano is a swashbuckling war tale, a patriotic call to arms, a
witty satire (or, more accurately, a celebration of wit), but especially a love
story between the titular character—who was born with a nose so large his
mother disowned him—and his cousin, Roxane.
Leaving aside the incestuous implications, it is a beautiful story,
well-composed and vastly entertaining.
Certainly
this is owed in large part to the efforts of Rostand, who is remembered as one
of the greatest French dramatists who has ever lived, but also to the British
translator, Ranjit Bolt, whose brilliant transcription of Rostand’s rhyming
couplets from French to English could be seen as a crowning achievement. Bolt’s translation is not overlong if also
not simplistic, and loses no brilliance in the journey between languages.
But then,
credit too goes to the cast, who are fully multidimensional in their portrayals
of characters whose vices range from lust to intolerance. Douglas Hodge is fantastic as Cyrano, exuding
his valor and acumen, and Clémence Poésy is more than a match for him as an
intellectual and beautiful Roxane. The
ensemble is numerous, and all are equally exciting in their talent.
Seeing Cyrano, especially this version, is akin to viewing a piece by
Shakespeare at the Globe. The
translation feels so beholden to the original that the attitudes of the late
nineteenth century seem to infuse the production. Perhaps Rostand in the Park would not bring
as many theatergoers to New York, but it should. Rostand’s rhyming couplets follow one another
like heartbeats. The electricity on the
stage during the fight scenes (expertly choreographed by Jacob
Grigolia-Rosenbaum) is difficult to describe, but suffice it to say that the
only way for them to impact the audience more would be if Cyrano actually
skewered his enemies at their conclusions.
There is an
aura about Cyrano that most Broadway
plays, even those seeking to harken back to the age of masterpieces, cannot
attain. It is infused with humor but
also tension and sincerity, to the point where it is indefinable. Yet it does not confuse us or drive us away,
rather drawing us closer to learn and understand more about its story. Cyrano is
unique. This, unfortunately, is a quality
not to be found on the Great White Way in this day and age.
In the
magnificently realized story, Cyrano, a member of the Paris guards, and his
disciple, Christian (Kyle Soller), are both in love with Roxane. Cyrano cannot approach her due to his looks,
and Christian, though handsome, is inarticulate. Cyrano, seeking the thrill of wooing his love
without the rejection that it would surely precede, writes Christian’s “lines,”
so to speak. He prompts him under Roxane’s
balcony (in a pivotal and beautiful scene), writes his love letters for him,
and trains him to be what he is not.
Meanwhile, he pines for Roxane himself.
As the play
approaches its finish, it becomes more and more difficult to tell if Cyrano is, in fact, a comedy or a
tragedy. We weep for Cyrano, but we
laugh at his antics, and we want for him what he cannot bring himself to
take. Cyrano may be complicated, or he
may be un-. Either way, we desperately
want for him to succeed. In the end, as
with any great character, we feel that we are him and he is us. The character of Cyrano may know that he is a
man of the people on the stage, but he cannot be aware what influence he has
the world over.
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