Written by Virginia Gay

Directed by Clare Watson

Review by Marina Funcasta

Traverse Theatre: Tickets

In a queer retelling of Edmond Rostand’s Cyrano de Bergerac, it would be silly to assume anything but a camp assessment of chivalry and honour and, of course, romantic poetry about unrequited love. Toying with a text so old, written more than 130 years ago, and about an even older historical figure, means that Virginia Gay’s script has significant ground to run to prove to her audience that stories like these are still worth telling.

To be sure, the opening provides some hope. Entering with a collision of podiums, completed by David Tarkner and Tessa Wong, the energy of the first act is captivating. Tarkner and Wong bounce off each other like a famous double act, to which Tanvi Virmani inserts herself, forming our chorus. Their role is not solely narratorial or reactive; however, always remaining on stage, they entertain themselves, digressing from the central narrative on long-winded metaphorical rants. Something reminiscent of a Diderot narrator, exhibiting wit and individuality. The construction of character here is interesting: pertaining to the metatheatrical style, we see the personalities of these unnamed figures emerge from the inside out, as the audience has fewer expectations from them. I would say the least pin-downable of the three was played by Virmani, whose foolish archetype, marginalised from the narrative, proves to secure for herself a fate which raises her above her station.

Upon the introduction of Cyrano, I recall turning back to see a gallivanting figure emerge from the audience in a stride akin to those you see online when Oscar nominees are beckoned to the stage. To call Gay’s protagonist imperious would be an understatement. Nevertheless, the immersive quality of this entrance, during which she taunted and complimented audience members, felt almost charismatic as she beckoned us into her story. Despite identifying her pride, neither of these characters falls into caricature, as they display elements of emotive relatability.

What I also felt was necessary, which emerged after the introduction of Roxanne, played with great assurance by Jessica Whitehurst, and her suitor Yann, played with comic reticence by Brandon Grace, is how understated the queerness is to the piece. Although central to the modernisation of the story, Cyrano’s poetic adoration of Roxanne seems genderless. Perhaps this is where the play ran most ground. Repetitively stating her potential to love “anything with that mind”, referring to Cyrano’s, although the queer underpinnings of the phrase were clearly translated to the audience, this was never directly dealt with. In this sense, Whitehurst’s imminent burst of anger also takes on a political resonance.

This engagement with themes of power and control over our narratives, be they literary or romantic or purely social, however, dissolved quickly. The songs and dances, expressions of queer joy in their own right, felt rushed and vapid. This might have been helpful if the play had been shorter, with scenes like the balcony interaction between our three lovers dragging on. Nevertheless, a fun celebration of the mutability of stories and their resonance through time, Gay’s adaptation of Cyrano tantalises more than it triumphs.

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