Burning

"Burning" is a modern adaptation of Edmond Rostand's romantic melodrama "Cyrano de Bergerac," set in small town America. It's also a social expos� about a blogger investigating military corruption. Each of these is an interesting story, but jumbling them together weakens them both.

How do you do "Cyrano" without a schnozz? If you aren't familiar with this 1897 historic melodrama by name, you might remember Cyrano as the guy with the prominent nose.

Though this noble man is a gifted duelist, a fine poet and a musician, it's his nose that makes him famous. As a soldier and as a patron of the theatre, he's talented, brash and strong-willed, but he's wracked with self-doubt because of his extremely large proboscis. Though he's desperately in love with a woman named Roxane, he feels, because of his appendage, he'll never be "loved by even an ugly woman."

"Burning" follows lesbian ex-Army officer Cy (Mal Malme), also in love with a woman and unable to communicate her feelings. Her Roxane is called Rose (Jessica Web).

Rose, however, is attracted to an absolutely beautiful male soldier, Cole (Ian Michaels). It's mutual, but Cole is incapable of forming the sentences necessary to express his feelings. So Cy puts her words into Cole's mouth and secretly professes her true feelings to the woman they both love.

If you don't recognize this scenario from the Steve Martin movie "Roxanne," then surely you recognize it as one of the most popular sitcom tropes on television -- unattractive and intellectually superior hero helps his fetching rival seduce the object of both of their affection.

Still, in this telling of the story -- at least, as the production has been cast -- Cy is not unattractive. She's an extremely handsome woman. So the only reason she fears confessing her feelings is the fear that Rose may not reciprocate because she's heterosexual.

Due to the fact that Rose is attracted to Cy's words and Cole's body, this situation brings up all kinds of interesting ideas. Can love and sexuality transcend physical attraction and gender? Can you love someone exclusively for her personality? Is it actually Cy's soul Rose loves, or Cy's words? Can a person love language and art more than a hot body? Or is it actually the flattery that Rose is in love with, the desire to be desired?

None of these issues is fully explored, because the play also tries to make a social comment on "Don't Ask Don't Tell" and sexual assault in the military.
As noted in the press release, "A female soldier in combat zones is more likely to be raped by a fellow soldier than killed by enemy fire. The Department of Defense estimates there were a staggering 19,300 service members sexually assaulted in 2010 alone."
This epidemic of rape within the U.S. military would make a fascinating and hard-hitting play, if we weren't in the middle of a funny and charming romance.
Now, there are wonderful elements in "Burning." This show is made up of some of the finest ingredients: Smart, funny dialogue, charming characters and compelling developments. When following the "Cyrano" framework, it's an apt adaptation.

Ginger Lazarus has proven her immense talent as a playwright to Boston audiences. Last year's strange, dark comedy "The Embryos" (produced by Fresh Ink) still has audiences talking.

Also, the nuanced performances of this production make this show particularly interesting. Malme as the protagonist Cy is strong, charismatic and droll. But she's given a character that isn't dynamic because external forces (the military) upstage the complexity of her internal barriers (her insecurity).

Nevertheless, Malme creates internal drama by making the military a character in and of itself, and forming a love/hate relationship with the institution. Even though she despises the patriarchy there is something within this establishment that represents and defines some of her most ingrained emotions like faith, honor and patriotism.

Malme swells with a kind of stinging pride when Cole (Michaels) honors her by addressing her with her military title in spite of the fact she was dishonorably discharged (they said "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" and she told).

Michaels is completely sympathetic, but there's something ominous lurking beneath the surface, a propensity toward violence that follows all things military in this show. His character is dopey, though, and we feel for him, especially in the end when he realizes that he's being used. Unlike Cy, Cole's conflict is directly with another character on stage, rather than an institution, so his actions are compelling.

When Stephen Barkhimer (Dulac) enters the stage in his army fatigues, a chill fills the air - there has been so much buildup about the corrupt fraternity that he represents. In spite of this, Barkhimer is so charismatic and seductive in his arguments that he begs the character to have more time on stage.

Finally, the foe has a face. Barkhimer's subtext shows us how these unseen aggressors are able to get away with so much malfeasance. But a play can't rely on a good actor. The character needs to be better developed.

In this play, we are told about wrongdoing within the military, but these stories aren't an integral part of the action. Based on Barkhimer's dimensional performance, Dulac could prove to be a compelling vehicle for some of this missing action.

The ending happens suddenly and melodramatically, which is fine for a Rostand romance but works less well in theatre for social change -- especially if we are meant to believe the allegations the play sets forth.

In "Cyrano," the man with the nose dies in the most random manner; a rival drops a log on his head. "Burning" holds true to that haphazard view of fate, but as informative theatre the ending seems arbitrary.

The play ends with an explicitly stated theme, something along the lines of "always tell the truth." There we have it, pure and simple.

The problem is, Cy has been fighting injustice and telling the truth since the play began. Her only lies revolve around the romantic construct of putting her words into another person's mouth -- hardly a deep moral quandary.

"Burning" could be a very interesting play, but it needs to decide if it's a romance or a rallying cry. Consider another play, written by a gay playwright, which opened two years before "Cyrano de Bergerac": "The Importance of Being Earnest" is full of profound and lasting insights, but it never professes to be anything more than a romantic comedy.

In that play we hear, "The truth is rarely pure and never simple." "Burning" could benefit from that insight.

"Burning" runs through Oct. 20 at the Boston Playwrights' Odyssey Theatre, 949 Commonwealth Ave., Boston, MA