“I spent much of the epilogue with tears running down my face”
Before seeing Cyrano de Bergerac, my knowledge of the play was largely assembled from cultural osmosis. I knew Cyrano had a spectacular nose, I knew he possessed an even more spectacular command of language, and I’d even often claimed I’d played the role of a Cyrano myself. Not through dazzling poetry or impossible romantic sacrifice, mind you. More by convincing 5’11” econ-bros that my friend was secretly an expert in Marvel lore so she could secure an extremely underwhelming first date… Alas, writes Leo Dunlop.
But Simon Evans and Debris Stevenson’s adaptation wastes no time making it clear that this isn’t a museum piece. Christian Patterson’s warm, affable Ragueneau welcomes us directly into the world of the play, dissolving any barrier between audience and stage almost immediately. It sets the tone for an evening that reminds us theatre is a shared event and not something to observe politely from a distance.
At the centre is Adrian Lester, delivering a magnificent Cyrano full of swagger, wit, and vulnerability. His swordplay is thrilling, but it’s his command of the script’s muscular, playful language that truly captivated me. Levi Brown gives Christian exactly the youthful optimism and naïveté the role demands, while Susannah Fielding’s Roxane avoids becoming the passive object of everyone’s affection. She brings intelligence, humour, and emotional clarity to a character who could have so easily become overshadowed by the men surrounding her.
The production’s greatest innovation, however, is its relationship with music. Debris Stevenson has spoken about discovering language through rhythm before words themselves, and that philosophy runs through the entire production. Alex Baranowski’s score never simply accompanies the action; it extends it. With the band performing live on stage, the music becomes another character altogether, filling the spaces between words and expressing emotions that dialogue alone cannot. The result is a production that feels constantly alive, responding to the rhythms of the performance in real time. There’s a palpable sense of enjoyment, too, as the musicians and actors interact with one another, making the music feel less like accompaniment and more like another performer sharing the stage.
Stevenson’s modern adaptation manages to use a more contemporary language without ever feeling forced. The first half revels in puns and insults, embracing every opportunity for verbal gymnastics and innuendo. Yet that same language quietly transforms as the evening progresses. The jokes remain, but the words begin to carry greater emotional weight until even the simple phrase “I love you” feels entirely redefined.
What surprised me most was how profoundly moving the second half became. The appearance of the tree in the final act could easily have felt like a clunking theatrical symbol that had been airdropped from the rafters, but instead it becomes an anchor for the drama, a place where memory, regret, and love collide and the performances echo off of. Needless to say, I spent much of the epilogue with tears running down my face.
The production earns that emotion because it patiently reveals new dimensions to characters who initially seem almost cartoonish. Scott Handy’s Comte de Guiche begins as a wonderfully vain and self-serving antagonist, willing to sacrifice everyone except himself in pursuit of Roxane. Yet his later reflections carry genuine sorrow and unexpected humanity, deepening rather than undermining everything we’ve seen before.
This Cyrano de Bergerac never feels interested in making a classic “relevant”. Instead, it trusts that the story already is. The modern language, live music, and direct audience address simply remove the barriers that might otherwise stop contemporary audiences from recognising themselves within it.
I came away with an entirely new understanding of both Cyrano and the play itself. I can’t remember the last time I cried this much in a theatre. It’s funny, inventive, technically slick, and emotionally overwhelming, a production that invites audiences to laugh loudly before quietly breaking their hearts. I’ll be recommending it to everyone I know.
Noël Coward Theatre, 85-88 St Martin’s Lane, London, WC2N 4AU until 5th September.
Booking and full details: www.CyranoWestEnd.co.uk
