Eryn Jean Norvill as Cyrano. Virginia Gay’s Cyrano is a sapphic adaptation of Edmond Rostand’s 129-year-old play.Dahlia Katz/Supplied
- Title: Cyrano
- Written by: Virginia Gay, after Edmond Rostand
- Director: Clare Watson
- Performed by: Eryn Jean Norvill, Madeline Charlemagne, George Ioannides, Mona Goodwin, David Tarkenter, Mackenzie Gilbert
- Company: Roast Productions, presented by David and Hannah Mirvish
- Venue: CAA Theatre
- City: Toronto
- Year: Runs to April 5
If you were to survey an average theatre in Canada – for argument’s sake, let’s say you’re completing this experiment in Toronto, with a full audience on opening night – how many people do you think would recall intimately the plot of Cyrano de Bergerac?
A handful of showoffs might know the 1897 play, about the 17th-century poet with the big nose and unrequited crush, by heart. A few more might only remember the sniffer, or that the play explores the risks of catfishing. It’s possible, as well, that some might have seen it at the Stratford Festival in 1962, 1963, 1994 or 2009.
But in Canada, the play is nowhere near as ubiquitous as, say, Hamlet, or The Cherry Orchard. Which makes the North American premiere of Virginia Gay’s Cyrano, a sapphic adaptation of Edmond Rostand’s 129-year-old play, a bit of a tough sell, made tougher by the fact that Gay’s script oscillates between unspecific references to the original – mostly nose jokes – and clumsy summaries of the plot that approach being funny, but which never seem to land with an audience largely unfamiliar with the source material.
Madeline Charlemagne, left, as Roxanne and Eryn Jean Norvill as Cyrano.Dahlia Katz/Supplied
“It starts in a theatre,” the show begins, making clear from the jump that Gay’s Cyrano isn’t just the story of the poet and his schnoz, but a treatise on what it means to consume and create a play.
From there, a three-person chorus (Mona Goodwin, David Tarkenter and Mackenzie Gilbert) debates how Cyrano ought to unfold, in an opening sequence that drags on far too long. The Woman in Black, which played the CAA Theatre in December, had a similar problem: Both shows bookend their stories with lengthy pontifications about how they should start, and, later, how they should end.
Cyrano’s ending is particularly clichéd: Wondering aloud onstage how a play should end hardly ever absolves a playwright from picking an ending. Gay’s far from the first writer to embrace such a meta style of a conclusion, but her frame narrative regularly keeps Cyrano – and the bits of brilliance embedded within – from sparkling.
When we meet Cyrano (a warm Eryn Jean Norvill, dressed in punky lace-up boots and a black muscle tank), it’s not immediately clear why the sweet-talking poet’s pursuit of Roxanne (an engaging Madeline Charlemagne) is so doomed – until it is. Gay soon makes clear that Cyrano’s affliction here isn’t a nose or some other physical imperfection, but her gender. The ache becomes sharper when Roxanne falls for Yan (George Ioannides), a bumbling adonis whose muscular beauty equals Cyrano’s vast intellect. Cyrano can’t possibly compete with that – or, with Yan’s help, could she?
Eryn Jean Norvill as Cyrano and George Ioannides as Yan.Dahlia Katz/Supplied
It’s an interesting idea that ought to work – Cyrano and its themes of self-othering easily translate to a queer interpretation of the story.
But Gay and director Clare Watson regularly bring Cyrano back to that fabled nose, a confusing choice even for those familiar with the original play. While she laments her lovesickness, Norvill mimes some sort of Pinocchio-esque appendage on her face, blaming the phantom snout for her troubles. It’s mildly amusing the first time she does it but downright grating by the end of the play – it’s as if Cyrano is somehow afraid to lean into its own concept, which, as mentioned, ought to be a slam-dunk.
A few gorgeous moments help elevate things: Gay wraps up the choked romance between Cyrano and Roxanne with a festive fête with the audience (complete with party hats), and Norvill and Charlemagne possess palpable, yearning chemistry. Charlemagne, in particular, is among Cyrano’s highlights – she has some of the best-written monologues in the script, and delivers them with grounded aplomb.
From left to right: George Ioannides as Yan, Mackenzie Gilbert as No. 3, Madeline Charlemagne as Roxanne, Mona Goodwin as No. 1 and David Tarkenter as No. 2.Dahlia Katz/Supplied
But on the whole, Cyrano feels like a misfire, confusing in both its intention and execution. Amanda Stoodley’s set, for instance, suggests the exposed-brick back wall of a theatre – why not use the exposed-brick back wall of the CAA Theatre? It takes close to 40 minutes for Cyrano’s story to really take off – why not nix the frame narrative, especially when the show’s stronger material rests in its back half?
It’s a shame Cyrano doesn’t work better. A lesbian rework of Rostand’s play sounds like a great idea, and in truth, it’s one I’ve been looking forward to seeing for months. And at times, the team seems to understand the central questions they’re trying to ask – Cyrano’s pre-show playlist includes Boygenius’ Not Strong Enough, whose rousing bridge repeats “always an angel, never a god” on loop, a line a certain de Bergerac might relate to with every fibre of her being.
But this Cyrano’s not an angel, either. It has its moments, but in the end, we’re left feeling like that lovesick word-wielder, aching to feel something just out of reach.