We leave Le Cid with the feeling of having witnessed the most exhilarating thing that theater can produce: a powerful, exhilarating, and profound spectacle. In Denis Podalydès's production for the Comédie-Française, presented at the Théâtre de la Porte Saint-Martin, Corneille's play regains all its vital force. The alexandrine verses are not treated as a mere academic exercise: they flow, strike, and sweep us away. Their poetry runs with beautiful clarity, supported by acting that is both concrete and tragically intense.
An exceptional company brought to life by poetic staging
The production's greatest success lies first and foremost in its performers. Suliane Brahim delivers a first-rate Chimène, proud, tormented, and incandescent without ever succumbing to melodrama. She imbues the character with a painful authority, an inner strength that makes her struggle between love and justice all the more moving. Opposite her, Benjamin Lavernhe is a vibrant Rodrigue, driven by conflicting emotions, perfectly capturing both the youthful energy of the role and its heroic dimension. The duo is utterly captivating, making us feel that in Corneille's work, love softens nothing: on the contrary, it makes choices more agonizing, duties more impossible.
Around them, the company excels. Didier Sandre imbues Don Diègue with a striking, wounded nobility, Bakary Sangaré lends the king a nuanced presence, and the entire cast gives the play its collective energy. We are immersed in the era, not only by the splendor of the set designed by Éric Ruf and the costumes by Christian Lacroix, but also by the acting style itself, which never attempts to artificially modernize the text. Everything combines to draw us into this Spain of theater, palaces, duels, and honor, without the performance ever becoming bogged down in mere historical reconstruction. Time flies: each scene reignites our attention, each line seems to call for the next, and we follow the torments of the two doomed lovers with ever-increasing intensity.
The story of Rodrigo's battle, a highlight of the show
This production also serves as a reminder of how groundbreaking Le Cid was from its very creation in 1637. Corneille recounted the famous story of Rodrigue and Chimène, betrothed to each other before a feud between their fathers transformed their love into torment. The success was immense, but so was the controversy: the play was criticized for its implausibilities, its mixture of tones, and its supposed disregard for the nascent rules of classical theater. As the show's program notes point out, it is precisely this freedom that still constitutes the strength of Le Cid today: a youthful, excessive, luminous, and dark tragicomedy, driven more by passion than constrained by rules.
Denis Podalydès magnificently recaptures that initial energy. His production never treats Corneille as a stuffed, static author, but as a playwright of shock, movement, and dazzling brilliance. And there is, in this interpretation, an unforgettable moment: the account of Rodrigue's battle, with its beating drums. The scene is splendid, almost breathtakingly powerful. Breath catches, the audience is spellbound, and we suddenly experience that rare sensation we seek in the theater: that of a moment greater than ourselves, where words, rhythm, actors, and staging merge in a single surge. It is beautiful, unprecedented in its force, and this alone is enough to make this Cid a great spectacle. But there is much more: an understanding of the text, a faith in the actors, and the undeniable truth, from the first to the last line, that Corneille has lost none of his burning youthfulness.
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