Review: A NOSE, A HEART, AND A THOUSAND WORDS

CYRANO SAVINIEN-HERCULE DE BERGERAC FINDS NEW LIFE IN A DAZZLINGLY MODERN REVIVAL THAT PRESERVES THE POETRY OF ROSTAND WHILE MAKING IT FEEL ENTIRELY ITS OWN.

★★★★★

There are some classics that resist reinvention. Edmond Rostand’s Cyrano de Bergerac is not one of them. Its poetry, romance, swagger, and melancholy have survived countless adaptations, translations, and reinterpretations. Yet Simon Evans and Debris Stevenson’s new adaptation, following its sold-out, critically acclaimed run at the RSC last year, manages something remarkably difficult: it makes Cyrano feel both beautifully familiar and thrillingly new.

The secret is in the language. Evans and Stevenson retain the original text’s glorious rhyming couplets while weaving in contemporary English, creating a dialogue between centuries that never feels forced. The result preserves the elegance and musicality of Rostand without allowing the language to become a barrier. It is, quite simply, one of the most intelligent and exhilarating adaptations of this classic tale I have encountered.

Evans, who also directs, approaches the material with class, confidence, and visionary integrity. He understands that Cyrano does not need to be reinvented for its own sake. Instead, it needs to be understood. His production finds the beating heart beneath all the poetry, swordplay, and theatrical bravado: this is a story about a man who possesses almost everything except the one thing he desperately wants — to be loved exactly as he is.

And what a man he is.

Cyrano is a poet, soldier, swordsman, and magnificent show-off, armed with words sharp enough to wound and beautiful enough to make an audience fall in love. His physical appearance, however, is the source of his deepest insecurity. His nose is, in his own words, “f***ing huge.” Yet the joke gradually gives way to something much sadder. Cyrano has convinced himself that nobody could ever love the man beneath it.

Adrian Lester is extraordinary in the title role. Indeed, this may well be the performance of his career. He gives Cyrano a seemingly limitless confidence that slowly reveals itself as armor. Every flourish, every joke and every beautifully constructed sentence carries the weight of a man desperately trying to distract the world — and perhaps himself — from his own vulnerability. Lester makes Cyrano simultaneously hilarious, heroic, heartbreaking and achingly human.

Then there is Roxanne, played with remarkable emotional force by Susannah Fielding. Their chemistry is extraordinary precisely because so much of it is left unspoken. Cyrano loves her. Roxanne loves Christian. And Cyrano, believing himself incapable of being loved in return, does the most selfless and devastating thing imaginable: he helps the man she loves win her heart.

Enter Christian, played by Levi Brown. His knowledge of verse is practically nonexistent, leaving Cyrano to supply the words that Christian cannot find. What begins as a comic arrangement gradually becomes something far more painful. Cyrano is effectively writing the love letters he wishes he could send himself.

When Cyrano and Christian are sent to war, those letters become the emotional engine of the production. Cyrano continues writing to Roxanne on Christian’s behalf, pouring his own heart into every sentence. The letters are so poetic, so intimate and so moving that Roxanne is eventually “literally summoned” to the front lines.

It is a wonderfully theatrical moment, but the romance comes with an unbearable cost.

Christian is severely wounded and dies in Cyrano’s arms. Cyrano remains silent about the truth, allowing Christian’s identity to remain attached to the words that were always his own. It is a devastating act of love — and one that makes the final revelation years later all the more crushing.

When Roxanne finally discovers that the letters she treasured came from Cyrano, the production finds its emotional centre. There is no grand melodramatic trick here. Instead, the revelation lands with the quiet force of something that has been inevitable all along.

Even age cannot diminish Cyrano. Neither can the stab wound that ultimately brings his life to its close. Lester plays his final moments with extraordinary restraint. The fierce poet who once seemed capable of conquering anything finally allows himself to say the words he has spent a lifetime withholding.

He loves Roxanne.

And then he dies in her arms.

What follows is perhaps the most beautiful theatrical image of the evening. Cyrano crosses to the other side accompanied by the spirit of his younger self, a simple gesture that somehow feels both intimate and enormous. Evans does not overplay the moment. He trusts the actors, the writing and the audience. The simplicity makes it all the more powerful.

I was in tears.

That may be the greatest achievement of this Cyrano. Beneath its wit, spectacle, and dazzling language is an extraordinarily tender story about self-worth, sacrifice, and the terrifying vulnerability of allowing somebody to see who you really are.

Lester is magnificent, Fielding is equally powerful, and Brown brings a touching sincerity to Christian. Around them, an accomplished ensemble — including several performers with RSC experience — provides the production with the theatrical muscle and versatility this sweeping story demands.

There have been many Cyranos. There will be many more. But this one feels special.

By preserving Rostand’s rhyming poetry while embracing the immediacy of modern English, Evans and Stevenson have not merely translated Cyrano de Bergerac. They have opened it up. The result is a production that respects the past without becoming trapped by it, and one that speaks with startling clarity to the present.

For a man whose greatest gift was his ability to find the perfect words, Cyrano spends his life unable to say the one thing that matters most.

This production finds those words.

And then breaks your heart with them.


Cyrano de Bergerac - Noël Coward Theatre, 

Attended on 17 August 2026