TO NOSE OR NOT TO NOSE. THE SPACE IN BETWEEN.

By Alex Burns.

In 2019, when Martin Crimp’s new translation of Rostand’s Cyrano de Bergerac premiered on London’s West End, the headlines were dominated not by the star turn of its celebrity leading man James McAvoy, but instead on director Jamie Lloyd’s decision to present his Cyrano without a nose. If you have never heard of Jamie Lloyd Productions, check out the reviews of his 2023 A Doll’s House with Jessica Chastain or his current Broadway hit, Nicole Scherzinger as Norma Desmond in Sunset Boulevard. So powerful was the impression that Jamie Lloyd made, that as Crimp’s Cyrano adaptation is staged across the country, Crimp’s original stage directions are continuously disregarded for Lloyd’s signature aesthetic of a monochrome barren stage, microphones, and for Cyrano… no nose.

At heart, Martin Crimp is a provocateur. His original plays Attempts On Her Life, and In the Republic of Happiness remain two of the most visceral and thrilling evenings I have ever spent in the theatre. The later play had audience members literally cursing at the stage and storming out of the Royal Court, a space celebrated for its cutting-edge contemporary theatre. But he is also one of the English language’s greatest living dramatic poets, and his contemporary prose, as sharp as an Aaron Sorkin teleplay, transcends into heightened poetry like Keats or Ted Hughes.

I have been on a personal artistic journey with Crimp. The first play I professionally produced and directed after college was Crimp’s translation of Genet’s The Maids, and at Quintessence I have directed his translations of Molière’s The Misanthrope and Ionesco’s The Chairs. I seek out Crimp’s plays whenever they premiere as he remains at the forefront of the English language theatre. And in spite of his cerebral edge, it is the heat and complex passions of his characters manifest through language that attract me most to his theatre.

While working on Sartre’s No Exit with J Hernandez last season, he asked me if I had seen the Lloyd/Crimp/McAvoy production, noting how thrilling, humorous and accessible the Crimp text was, and if it was something I would be interested in producing at Quintessence. I said that I had, and that I was, and inquired if he would be interested in playing Cyrano if I was to restore the swashbuckling and the nose. Fortunately, he said “yes!”

For me, this project, from J’s inquiry through to the opening night was quintessentially Quintessence. Over the summer I sat in front of Rostand’s original French text, three or four celebrated English translations (Burgess, Thomas & Guillemard, Morgan) and Crimp. The thrill in this scholarship was to investigate the power of translation and adaptation, discovering exactly what phrases Crimp translated directly, or the difference between a literal translation of the French and what Crimp wrote or added or threw out altogether. In all seriousness, how could the godfather of the In-Yer-Face theatre movement’s adaptation of Cyrano end with Roxane in a convent?

From all reports Rostand was the Lin-Manuel Miranda of 1890s Paris, retelling the historical tale of a 1640s Gascon cadet who stood up against the authoritarian forces of Louis XIII and Cardinal Richelieu, and creating a Hamilton for his time. As beholden to historical facts as Miranda, Rostand created a new mythology around the philosopher poet with the long nose, and while many writers of his day were driving towards realism (Strindberg, Ibsen, Chekov), the neo-romantic Rostand was leaning back into theatricality, melodrama and panache. Rostand’s artistic mission is very similar to the impulse which guides our vision at Quintessence, and he was almost as out of step with the popular culture of his day, as some perceive Quintessence’s commitment to the classics is today.

My role as director was to discover as much as possible about Cyrano de Bergerac’s 1640s, then imagine the original genius that guided Rostand in 1890, juxtaposed through Crimp’s 2019 British adaptation, before setting it with J Hernandez and our ensemble in Philadelphia today. It is in the space between these different worlds, times and perspectives that I have the most fun creating.

And it is in this vast unknown, with a series of vivid tableaus and a musical playlist, I entered the first rehearsal of Cyrano.

The rules I had set for myself: We are in a theatre and this is a play.   This play is a celebration of panache, panache is both an action and a state of being, and all demonstrations of panache must be exploited and realized on stage whenever possible.   Language must remain the primary focus of the production at all times, and though in broken verse, all of Crimp’s rhythms and rhyming couplets will be celebrated and enjoyed.   The text must establish the world and objects of the play, and only objects that are absolutely necessary should exist. Embrace melodrama, all emotions should be externalized and shared with the audience for their pleasure. Embrace epic theatre, by acknowledging theatrical artifice, and the power of the ten actors to tell an epic tale.

Be it Shakespeare, Shaw, Wilson or Rostand, the purpose of the classic theatre is to revisit. This is unlike a favorite film which you can go back and watch over and over, never changing. In classical theatre, it is checking in with a play over and over again, to experience the change, to see how a new and different group of artists, actors and bodies unlock a play, to see how we ourselves have changed since our last visit. My favorite part of attending a classic play is that giddy cerebral space that exists when you are returning to something known, like a lifelong lover whose body you return to over and over. The memory of the first time, of the returning visits, the last time, acute awareness of the passing of time, wanting to return to the past, to repeat, but profound awareness of the present, and of what is different or new. It is in that space between the memory and knowledge from your past, and what you are experiencing in the present that discovery is made. And while the last time may have been preferred, or the difference disorienting, the experience of revisiting, or meeting again, or becoming aware of the change is the gift, is essential and is full of possibility for revelation.

The events of the world and working on Cyrano de Bergerac have made me reflect upon the nature of existence, beauty and the public self. When the majority of communication takes place through text and images on devices or through social media, what is the authentic self? What is an outsider, and can a public individual survive outside of the dictates of public perception and opinion? Have we evolved or is romance still largely predicated on presentation and aesthetics? What is authorship and the authentic voice in the age of AI and grammar check?

I am grateful to J Hernandez for creating his nosed Cyrano with me, and for Erica as Roxanne and Daniel as Christian for joining us as our triumvirate of lovers. The entire ensemble’s trust to enter into an empty space with me, and to explore the theatricality and melodrama of 19th century theatre through a contemporary adaptation has been a profound privilege. The incendiary passions they ignite at each performance are Cyrano’s, are Rostand’s, are Crimp’s and very much each their own. It is in doing this work, and exploring the spaces in between time, place, and person, that my life’s passion is ignited, and the purpose of Quintessence and producing the classics for today is most clear and necessary.