The title character in Edmond Rostand’s swashbuckling romance of a play, “Cyrano de Bergerac,” has a big nose. Make that a huge nose.
But don’t mention it to Cyrano, because he’ll cut ya — first with ferocious quips, then with his blade. This guy has a serious chip on his face.
Instead of the usual long, pointy prosthesis — think of Steve Martin in the movie adaptation “Roxanne” — the schnoz that Douglas Hodge sports here is rounded and squat. It looks like a blunt instrument, a quality shared with this new Roundabout revival as a whole.
Indeed, while Jamie Lloyd’s production excels at the comedy, it misses the target when it comes to the play’s somber side. Lackluster supporting turns further undermine the show.
It’s easy to see what drew Hodge, a British star who won a Tony for “La Cage aux Folles,” to this flamboyant role.
Cyrano is a soldier of noble extraction in 17thcentury France, one equally adept at wordplay and swordplay. The part demands an extravagant swagger underlined by crippling insecurity. Kevin Kline achieved that tricky balance in the 2007 revival. Here, Hodge proves to be brilliant at slapstick, but for too much of the show he favors Cyrano’s clownish facade over his fragile soul.
Basically, Cyrano wrecks his own life because, despite his many qualities, he has what a therapist would call low self-esteem.
He certainly can’t imagine the beautiful Roxane (Clémence Poésy) could ever love him. When she falls for his fellow cadet, Christian de Neuvillette (Kyle Soller), the gallant Cyrano volunteers to act as go-between.
And Christian needs help: He’s handsome as heck but readily acknowledges that he’s “quite devoid of wit.” Like a man-size puppet, he voices Cyrano’s love messages to their common flame.
Hodge exerts himself mightily to bring Cyrano to life, and he’s at his finest when lunging and parrying, both physically and verbally — and Ranjit Bolt’s brisk but overly vulgar new translation requires maximum dexterity.
“Our hilts clash with a pleasant ring,” Cyrano says, taunting an opponent. “Drawn to you like a fly to s – – t.” Pardon his French.
Hodge must work hard to sell this and make up for his overly timid counterparts.
Perhaps unwilling to repeat his entertaining excess as the Green Goblin in “Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark,” Patrick Page so underplays Roxane’s nefarious suitor, the foppish Comte de Guiche, that he barely registers.
The lovebirds don’t fare much better. Soller lacks the requisite touch of dash — the guy may be tongue-tied but he should still have some sex appeal — and Poésy is largely ineffective as a particularly girlish Roxane. The one thing the French-born actress brings to the table is a perfect pronunciation — unshared by the rest of the cast — of the characters’ names.
When Hodge finally dials it down at the very end, the emotion lacking in the rest of the show comes flooding in. If only there had been more foreshadowing. By then it’s a lot, too late.