Cyrano review: James McAvoy brings sex appeal and spoken-word acrobatics to modern stage telling

We must address the elephant in the room at the BAM Harvey Theater in Brooklyn, N.Y. — or, rather, the elephant not in the room. James McAvoy, playing the titular Cyrano de Bergerac in the modern telling of Cyrano, doesn't wear any kind of fake nose.

The obscenely large appendage has come to define the character since he was conceived by French playwright Edmond Rostand in the 1800s: a cadet with a gift for poetry is so convinced of his ugliness that he can't express his love for his distant cousin Roxane, leading to a situation where he must then coach a handsomer military man in the art of language to garner her affections. It's a clear choice not to incorporate the nose, especially with someone as buff and swoon-worthy as the film star of X-Men and Split. Then you get to a scene in Cyrano where all the soldiers pal around with their shirts off and director Jamie Lloyd confirms he knows exactly what he is doing by not marking McAvoy's face.

Cyrano, with a more contemporary script from scribe Martin Crimp, isn't about the nose at all, even if it's still referenced in the context of the play. Yes, there are certain implications its absence presents. For instance, if there isn't some clear psychical anomaly to the man, there must have been a more psychological reason why someone with the body of McAvoy has convinced himself he's not only hideous but not worthy of love. And the actor does a tremendous job leaning into that deep-seeded depression. This version of the play, instead, is more about Cyrano de Bergerac's first love: language.

Whenever Cyrano feels like an outcast, he returns to the written and spoken word for solace. It's his escape, his entertainment, and his chief weapon, using rhythm and rhyme to wound or soothe as needed. And God help the prideful actor who would dare butcher the work of William Shakespeare in front of him. Everything about Cyrano is a tribute to this first love. "I love words. That's all," a troupe member paints on the back wall as Cyrano and Christian lay out the main plot of the play. But like any love story, the line between romance and obsession can run thin.

As a nod to the original Cyrano de Bergerac, which was written entirely in poetic verse, rhyming couplets, and the like, Crimp updates the language to incorporate more modern poetry, creating a spoken-word rendition set in 1640 that plays with current pop-culture references. (The Emily Dickinson "Because I Could Not Stop for Death" quote and the reference to Steve Martin's 1987 film Roxanne wouldn't be found in the original.) It's much more Hamilton than 19th century bard.

At times, the writing feels too dense, becoming so wrapped up in its own love affair with language that it loses focus. Like Roxane, played here by a superb Evelyn Miller, the play itself sometimes loses sight of what's in front of it and becomes overly infatuated with the words — as if to recite a monologue for the sake of how cool it sounds. Still, the cast, led by a commanding McAvoy, leave the audience feeling impressed, as if they just witnessed a daring audible feat. You can't help it. The leading man masterfully wields such hefty dialogue, filled with complex rhythms that demand pointed and precise articulation. He's the soloist flaunting his prowess on stage and his cast members, with standout moments from Miller, Eben Figueiredo (Christian), and Michele Austin (Leila Ragueneau), are his orchestra.

Crimp and Lloyd brought the play overseas after runs in London and Scotland to the BAM Harvey Theater, which is an intimate setting for this stripped-down production. The crew maintain the bare essentials and remove everything else. Set and costume designer Soutra Gilmour taps only a few chairs, a single mirror, and a movable stage, while keeping the cast in modern streetwear. Microphones, a few on stands and the others freely held by actors, evoke the instrument of contemporary spoken-word artists while symbolically doubling as props, from swords to even some of Cyrano's love notes. Lightning lead Jon Clark weaves together shifting tones and the hint of environments with minimal but expertly placed hues.

Cyrano, then, becomes all about the words. With so little on stage, everything is exposed and everyone must be on point. The cast revel in this challenge, all working in concert to create the illusion of what isn't there. Again, the only illusion that isn't believable? "It's bad enough to be ugly," McAvoy's Cyrano says. Um, sir? Your abs are right there! Grade: B

Cyrano opens April 14 at the BAM Harvey Theater and runs through May 22.

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