Tramway, Glasgow
Five Stars
Five Stars
When Edwin Morgan’s rollicking Scots verse adaptation of Edmond Rostand’s nineteenth century epic of unrequited love, grand gestures and its eponymous hero’s desperate self-loathing first appeared in 1992, it laid bare the poetic power of love on a universal scale.
A quarter of a century on, Dominic Hill’s revival for the first off-site Citizens Theatre production in its temporary new home at Tramway honours Morgan’s rendering of Rostand’s yarn in vivid and audacious fashion, delivering the entire production with an almighty swagger.
Surrounded
by punk-styled dandies and garishly-clad soldier boys and girls mixing and
matching Pam Hogg’s era-hopping costume design, Brian Ferguson’s Cyrano is a
mercurial street-poet terrier who hides his self-consciousness about his
oversize nose behind a demeanour that is part court jester, part ragamuffin
provocateur. This barely masks a lovesick melancholy and a huge intellect that
finds an outlet in drafting romantic bon-mots on cake shop paper bags.
As his unknowing beloved Roxane in this co-production with the National Theatre of Scotland and the Royal Lyceum, Edinburgh, Jessica Hardwick sashays the battle-lines like a vertiginous wedding cake decoration with a towering bouffant and a motor-mouthed patter straight off a Glasgow dance hall. Keith Fleming makes a venomously foppish De Fuiche, and Scott Mackie is a dim but devoted Christian.
As his unknowing beloved Roxane in this co-production with the National Theatre of Scotland and the Royal Lyceum, Edinburgh, Jessica Hardwick sashays the battle-lines like a vertiginous wedding cake decoration with a towering bouffant and a motor-mouthed patter straight off a Glasgow dance hall. Keith Fleming makes a venomously foppish De Fuiche, and Scott Mackie is a dim but devoted Christian.
With
the audience seated on three sides of the action in Tramway’s main performance
space, Hill’s company of fourteen actors lend depth to the story beyond the
laughs on Tom Piper’s wide-open set. Nikolai Kodjabasha’s live score played by
the cast moves between tender piano sketches and martial bombast. Morgan’s poetry is a perennially
rich concoction, laced with the pains of being artfully alone and brought to
life with furious and heart-breaking relish in a vintage production fired with
breath-taking panache.
The Herald, September 7th 2018
Ends
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