Early March 2020, I saw Jamie Lloyd’s Cyrano on live stream at the cinema. We were then plunged into lockdown. The production sat with me, particularly given that we could not see anything in person. The verbal swordplay and stark light-driven design resonated through my mind.
In March 2022, I got the chance to see the same production, now remounted in London’s West End ahead of its much delayed transfer to Brooklyn. Anticipation was high, as of course, this production had lived on in my mind. Edited, re-shaped. Seeing it live, strangely, gave a heightened awareness of the technical nature of the production, which seeing it digitally had glossed and smoothed over. This isn’t a bad thing, necessarily, but in part because I knew the conceit, it removed me from the moment slightly.
I was, however, much more aware of time in the live experience; keenly aware of the pace of the production when it sped up and more importantly, when it slowed for effect. James McAvoy’s “I want you” monologue had the entirety of the theatre holding their collective breath.
It further meant that I was aware of the shortcomings of the dramaturgy. Did the show need to be as long as it was? Could cleaner and tighter choices have been made? Absolutely. But what is fascinating is that these shortcomings were completely missed in my viewing of the streamed production. Why was I willing to accept unnecessary length and less clear dramaturgy in a “film” style experience, but less forgiving in the “live”?
What is different in the way our minds process time and information across these two mediums?