Text taken from bookhub.ro / author: Nona Rapotan

A Horse Walks into a Bar by David Grossman and Plato and the Platypus Walks into a Bar… A Little Treatise on Philosdotics by Thomas Cathcart and Daniel Klein, they were the ones that came to mind when I heard the first line from the final moment, the one in which Cyrano, with everyone around him, says bluntly “A man walks into a bar…”. And what an exit from the stage followed after this line. Yes, after all, a man walks into a bar for many reasons, but especially out of an acute need for stories. Cyrano is the embodiment of the story, he is still a story, he is its most resistant fiber, which has brilliantly passed the test of time. The entire show, recently entered the repertoire of the Regina Maria Theater in Oradea, is conceived in this vein. But to get to "A Man Walks Into a Bar..." you go through personal wars and those of the contemporary world, you go over infidelities, indecisions and rudeness of human nature, you go through the trenches of the soul besieged from all sides by rudeness, false elitism and imposture. And this series of passages turns into a party, in other words into a show, because what other reason do you need to come to the theater in the year of grace 2023?

Cyrano de Bergerac was a real character, if we can say so; a precursor of the Enlightenment, Cyrano played with words and put this play at the service of the exchange of ideas; his essays and plays were well received at the time, since he himself became a character. Possessor of a nose of an unusual shape and size, he aroused not only curiosity, but hilarity and other -isms. Cyrano entered French folklore as a character, one much better than any other character created by his mind. Edmond Rostand wrote the play of the same name in 1897, consecrating him definitively, ensuring him a place in the pantheon of universal culture. Martin Crimp adapts Rostand's text and does it quite well, because he keeps the rhymes, in other words, the essence of the character remains the same, but he dresses him in clothes that are as contemporary as possible. Cyrano is a soldier, he is part of a band that has to go to war, and his love for Roxane remains as beautiful as in the original version. In other words, Crimp uses Cyrano the character to bring to the forefront the idea that, after all, we are human and we have the same needs as always: to love and be loved and the need – deep, deeper than we like to believe – for a story, for a well-written one. Theatrical convention is still respected, Cyrano retains all his character attributes, only they become the attributes of contemporary man. A misfit intellectual, who tries not to get lost in the sea of amateurism that surrounds him, which pierces the thick wall of rudeness, conceit and noise. His retreat to a corner of the stage in at least two moments of the show is not at all accidental; he does not leave the stage, but remains a spectator, witnessing the entire fun of the contemporary world, without feeling the need to intervene, to become part of this game of shadows and fleeting needs.

Cyrano (Richard Balint) becomes the voice of Cristian (Răzvan Vicoveanu), thus both reaching Roxana's heart, but without her realizing who she is actually falling in love with. Horia Suru, the director of the show, plays with the voices of the three characters as if they were part of a reality show, one whose ingredients and recipe we all know: everything in plain sight, nothing hidden, everything predictable. From this point of view, the show turns into a pamphlet; the shows we have been exposed to in recent years are the surrogates of what used to be a good or very good show. Hence the note of falsehood that dominates the entire show. The characters seem corseted, they never move freely, they seem to be waiting for the others to move all the time, the relationships are not assumed, but reproduced ad litteram, as if someone keeps whispering into their headphones "not now, stay put, wait for the other person's reply". The set design perfectly complements Horia Suru's idea: a setting reminiscent of variety shows from the 1980s; the scenes with the tables in Leyla's café-confectionery reminded me of the New Year's Eve shows recorded for Romanian Television for years in a row; the dim lights also encourage the manifestation of nostalgia, although all the while the viewer's degree of discomfort also increases, especially for those over a certain age - who would really want to relive those moments? But Cyrano remains the key character, so the scenes in Leyla's café are much less numerous than the others. The story is an urban one, of an ordinary city - it is not very well located geographically - but we know for sure that young people enlist and go to war. A war as contemporary as possible, fought with the weapons of the present, even if swords are not missing from the costumes of the main characters. The duel scene is excellently constructed, as is the one of the trench battle, the latter being a true show of lights, sounds and movements, all thought out to the millimeter and integrated into a show itself, which has and has no connection with the show of which they are part. In other words, the two moments become sources of meditation for the viewer, because the wars (personal or not) are more present than ever. Andrei Dominte is the one who worked on the fencing scenes with the actors, and the moment with the "sword dance" is of rare accuracy, no accidental crossing, no wrong step, no sign that their hands are shaking.

The most telling moment in the entire show remains the moment with the suspended house. The photograph itself, which remains in the viewer's memory associated with the window of a luxury store, from which people are missing, but not teddy bears, Roxana's room is raised on pillars, so that suddenly the registers of the story are all written, at the same time, under the eyes of the viewers. Cyrano helps Cristian to be spontaneous, he reaches Roxana's heart, what more could you want? In fact, the whole moment arouses reverie, even a beginning of melancholy, the neighbor of a deep meditative state. How false we have become in communication, how much we want to reach the heart and soul of the other, are we still capable of loving deeply, with all our hearts, but are we still capable of recognizing true love? The Cyrano-Cristian-Roxana trio should have been the basic trio of the show, it should have been, in reality it turned out to be a duet, because Cyrano had no equal in Cristian, but at most a prankster, a cheat.

As Horia Suru thought of the show, a trained troupe was needed, with a desire to play. Unfortunately, what we saw was a troupe that needed a breath of youth. Richard Balint and Alina Leonte were in top form, they fully assumed their roles, they didn't cough and they didn't have any "come on, finish it quickly, because we want to go home" moments. But much less theatricality would have been desirable in Răzvan Vicoveanu (after all, he's a UNITER award winner, why shouldn't he show what he can do?), I would have liked a better command of rhymes in Elvira Râmbu, who says her lines hesitantly, a sign that at times she doesn't know (yet) in what key she should play Leila, she doesn't feel comfortable in the role yet. Very good idea to bring young actors into the cast, I've seen a few of them play before, believe me, they've got something to show.

A man walks into a bar and starts telling a story. He's Cyrano and there's no mention of his nose. Is that how it should be?