Park Theatre
Playing until 11th January 2025
Photo credit: Craig Sugden
Review {AD-PR Gifted}
What would happen if you placed the soul of a woman in the body of a Greek God? In Virginia Gay’s bold reimagining of Edmond Rostand’s classic Cyrano de Bergerac, female wit is at the heart of the story. Staying true to the grandiose tone of the original, the production gallantly tackles themes of love, poetry, and identity, with the contemporary additions of gender and self-image.
Gay is a revelation as Cyrano, infusing the character with smooth charisma, subtle swagger, and quiet confidence. The gender swap adds an entirely new layer of complexity to Cyrano's role, transforming her into an even more tragic figure. Gay’s portrayal is distinctly different from male renditions of the character: there’s a grace and poise that shifts Cyrano's tragedy from a mere commentary on physical appearance to a deeper critique of societal norms and expectations. Her performance is nuanced, bringing a quiet yet powerful depth to the role. Textually, I was missing some of Cyrano's deep insecurity that manifests in volatility, anger and self-inflicted isolation as they project their issues onto those around them, contributing to their own demise. This is particularly important to warrant the fear the character instils in the hearts of those around them.
One of the production's most effective twist comes in the form of Joseph Evans’ portrayal of Yan, the object of Roxanne’s affections. As a GI Joe-esque foil to Cyrano, Evans’ performance is marked by his subtlety and precise comedic timing, creating a deliberate contrast to Gay’s refined Cyrano, emphasising the physical and emotional distance between the characters. Clare Watson’s direction shines here, as the interplay between Yan and Cyrano brings a fresh, layered dimension to the love triangle, seeped in queer subtext. The characters’ obsession with Yan's muscular, stoic presence that veers into objectification raises questions on the limitations of heteronormativity. The outcast status of Cyrano, no longer a mere matter of appearance, is now compounded by the character’s queerness in a world where heterosexuality has (historically) always won.
One of the most fascinating elements of the production is how it explores the tragic role Cyrano plays as the intermediary of love—especially in a queer context. The intimacy scenes between Yan and Roxanne (Jessica Whitehurst), choreographed by Ana Beatriz Meireles, are sensual and elegantly staged. The physicality of the two characters, juxtaposed with Cyrano’s longing, highlights the emotional weight of the unrequited love and the tension between the female and male forms. We witness Cyrano fighting both societal norms and heteronormative expectations, adding a poignant layer to the narrative that deeply resonates with the queer experience.
The production isn’t without its flaws. From the very first moments, the show announces its meta-theatrical intentions, pulling apart the fourth wall with a knowing (though dare I say slightly cringe-inducing) wink to the audience. This causes the script to at times feel overly self-referential. The chorus, who frequently break the fourth wall, often distract from the emotional core of the play with their antics. It is clear that their intended purpose is one of societal commentary; however, the attempt feels too on-the-nose (if you pardon the pun). This is most clearly seen in the decision for David Tarkenter’s ‘2’ to randomly defend traditionalism in opposition to the modern feminism of Tessa Wong’s ‘1’ and Tanvi Virmani’s ‘3’, which feels a little too simplistic.
Gay and Watson have also made the character of Roxanne disappointingly difficult to connect with. Despite her frequent protestations of being “fully realised,” Roxanne comes across as somewhat two-dimensional, particularly in the condensed format of the show. Her wish to be ugly in order to have her intellect appreciated by the public feels privileged and removed, making it difficult to fully empathise with her character. Though Jessica Whitehurst plays her with unrelenting passion, there is an opportunity here to delve deeper into Roxanne's own insecurities and desires, but the script doesn’t quite give her the space to be as multifaceted as she needs to be. Instead, she resembles the ‘manic pixie dream girl’ trope.
The ending, too, feels rushed as the intensity of Roxanne and Cyrano’s relationship escalates far too quickly. Without being too cynical, the additional gimmick of inviting the audience to join in the final party—complete with hats and streamers—feels more style over substance.
Despite these issues, there’s no denying the heart of this production. It is so refreshing to see female queer stories take centre stage in a way that feels both authentic, moving and wonderfully funny. The gender-swapped Cyrano is a brilliant idea that lends new dimensions to a classic tale, and the performance, particularly from Gay and Evans, elevates the material. While it occasionally gets bogged down by self-referential moments and clunky structural choices, the show offers a bold and heartfelt exploration of love, identity, and the complexities of being an outsider.
Ultimately, this Cyrano is a beautiful, if sometimes imperfect, celebration of queer love and the power of seeing beyond the surface. And in a world that often demands queerness be made palatable, this production does an admirable job of unapologetically embracing its identity—flaws and all.
Creatives
Writer: Virginia Gay
Director: Clare Watson
Musical Director: Paul Herbert
Set and Costume Design: Amanda Stoodley
Lighting Design: Andy Purves
Sound Design: Toby Young
Intimacy Coordinator: Naomi Downham
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