There is evidence to suggest that giving the hero of Edmond Rostan’s French classic a big prosthetic nose is increasingly considered passé. Certainly the last major London revival – a brooding, rap-battling affair directed by Jamie Lloyd – was a case in point. James McAvoy starred as Cyrano, the brilliant wordsmith with an obtrusively big schnozz. But he did it sans stuck-on snout – it worked by suggesting Cyrano’s inability to directly woo his love Roxane was down to a crippling case of low self-esteem, amounting to body dysmorphia.
Lloyd’s take was a modern-dress masterpiece. So when posters appeared of this RSC transfer – with Adrian Lester in period clobber and sporting a spectacularly fake conker – it looked kinda stuffy by comparison. But not a bit of it! Yes, co-adaptors Simon Evans (who also directs) and Debris Stevenson restore the work to 1640 France – a time when the country was stuck in the Thirty Years’ War – and yes, it comes with all the trimmings of that era (pocket swords! Mournful violin players!). It’s very much the romantic tragicomedy Rostand wrote, but despite its period setting, it feels wholly current.
Lester’s Cyrano appears as a man of swaggering confidence – a soldier as adept with a sword as with a quill. Though there’s no mistake his nose has held him back in life – it seems to prompt a Tourettes-like response from those who meet him – he takes it on the chin, keeping his insecurities stoically bottled up. Rarely does limerence sound as achingly beautiful as when he describes his feelings for Roxane – and rarely do rhyming couplets sound as sexy as when coming from his mouth.
Rarely do rhyming couplets sound as sexy as when coming from Adrian Lester’s mouth
Generously, Cyrano agrees to write Christian’s love letters to Roxane for him, and the balcony scene – where Cyrano mouths Christian’s lines to him as he struggles to chat up Roxane in person – is very well executed. If you’re worried it all sounds a bit catfishy, you’re not wrong. But it’s done with such gentleness and genuine feelings on behalf of both men, it basically gets away with it.
Sometimes, productions lose a touch of their magic when transposed from their OG venue to a West End playhouse, but this Cyrano really fits its new mould. Capitalising on the fact its opening scene is in a theatre, musicians pop up in the boxes and characters wander through the auditorium. There’s a tiny bit of audience participation too – just to make sure we’re all mentally as well as physically present.
The first half is all japes, and features some of the most impressive sword fighting you’re likely to see on stage. The second is more sombre by design – with Cyrano, Christian and the other men sent off to war. But their separation from Roxane justifies the big, fuck-it-I’m-probably-about-to-
Is its final scene a tad twee and drawn out? Yes, but it’s forgiven because this Cyrano, oozing with bittersweet longing, is stirring down to its last jot.
