Goodman, Page Photo by Craig Schwartz

Ah, pride.  Such a perilous attitude, and so dichotomous, too.  Signifying arrogance and self-importance, pride is a prelude to personal disaster.  But what if it's virtuous pride, associated with self-respect and honor?

Two worthy productions at San Diego's Old Globe Theatre address that philosophical conundrum, exploring number one of the Seven Deadly Sins and its effects on the lives of the plays' two title characters.  Ably directed (with three irritating exceptions) by Resident Artistic Director Darko Tresnjak, both dramas boast leading men more than up to the demands of the roles they play and exceptional casts that light up the Festival Theatre's outdoor stage.

Patrick Page is simply extraordinary as Cyrano de Burgerac, the conceited, somewhat pompous poet, swashbuckler and French army cadet with a nose rivaling that puppet who lied. (Cyrano lies, too, but we could color his distortions white, since the deception supposedly intends to benefit his fellow soldier, Christian, and Roxanne, the woman they both love.) Page is a master of vocal control (his whispers projected clearly, even to the rear of the theatre), with the physical agility to walk along railings and the stamina to perform at maximum intensity throughout the 3-hour-plus performance.  (Why, oh, why didn't Tresnjak tidy up that final melodramatic scene instead of embellishing it with odd effects?)

Based on a real life romance writer and set in 1640 Paris, Edmond Rostand's story twines the fates of the three principals with Cyrano's love poems, ghost-written to the lovely Roxane (an enticing and engaging Dana Green) on behalf of the smitten Christian (adeptly portrayed by Brendan Griffin).  Robbing him of confidence, Cyrano's large nose has kept him from approaching Roxanne on his own behalf, and it has also made him the object of jokes and derision.

Compensating for the latter cruelties, Cyrano has become as skilled with the sword as with the pen, and he is not shy about humiliating, maiming or killing those who make fun of his schnozzle.  Ironically, it is not the arrogance of his physical combat, but the pride in his letters that is his, and Christian's, undoing. Realizing he cannot seduce Roxane with his presence, he vows to have her through his verse and uses the love-struck Christian as his willing, but unwitting go-between.  In trying to fulfill his own fantasy, Cyrano degrades the dreams of another.

Derelian, Griffin Photo by Craig Schwartz

It is a similar fantasy-to-reality relationship that ends in disaster for William Shakespeare's boastful hero in Coriolanus.  Tresnjak has cleverly set this production in post WWI Europe, showcasing the timelessness of war's and politics' personal influences and made more effective with Christopher R. Walker's frightening, Nazi-esque sound design.

The bard's final, seldom performed, tragedy focuses on a prideful war hero and his equally proud mother, Volumnia (an impressive Celeste Ciulla), who has grand ambitions for her son. Envisioning herself the grand matriarch of the Senate aristocracy, Volumnia goads and guilt-trips her boy through battles that produce an impressive array of scars and a final, catastrophic confrontation.

Manipulated, but not innocent, Coriolanus has the emotional immaturity of an adolescent, seeing himself as the center of all to the point where even mom, exasperated by his stubbornness, shouts, "You are too absolute!"  Grandly and aggressively portrayed by Greg Derelian, who has the stature of a heroic figure and plays it to perfect advantage, Coriolanus has the arrogance to be sarcastic. His skillful, smirking use of that brand of humor infuses the play and this production with some wonderful shots of comedy.  (As opposed to the comic absurdity of the huge doll representing Coriolanus' son that Virgilia --a stoic Brooke Novak--carries about in the final few scenes.  What was Tresnjak thinking?)

The play's voice and manner of reason belong to Menenius Agrippa, friend and mentor to Coriolanus, who tries to balance the passions of the plebeians and moderate the arrogance of the aristocracy, as well as to counsel his hot-headed colleague.  It is all to no avail, however, as his calm efficiency and plain good sense is no match for Volumnia's thirst for power and her strong influence.  Actor Charles Janasz teases every tidbit from Menenius, including the famous belly speech, which could become tedious or moralizing in less capable hands.

This play is also about the discrepancies of class, the impossibilities of aristocratic and plebian mutual understanding and the politics of treachery - all sub-themes of the pitfalls of pride. Shrewdly represented in the characters of Sicinius Velutus (Grant Goodman) and Junius Brutus (James Newcomb) both tribunes of the people, the politics of power play out to ruinous results.  The treacherous tribunes manipulate the ignorant Roman plebeians to turn on the war hero who saved their city from the Volscians, and Coriolanus is banished.

Vengeance is his, he thinks, and he joins with the enemy's leader and his former nemesis, Tullus Aufidius (an insightful Brendan Griffin), to sack the city that rejected him. Coriolanus refuses Menenius, but Volumnia's pleas prevail on him and he returns to Rome.  Yet, all is not well with the people who, seeing him as dangerous and forgetting his past heroic acts, set upon and kill him.  Too late, Volumnia realizes that her influence has destroyed her pride and joy. The final tableau shows her horror, as the people cheer her for saving their city.

In juxtaposing Coriolanus' violent execution with his mother's appalling epiphany, director Tresnjak has created an ending that shocks. But, concluding with Coriolanus' death makes an abrupt departure from Shakespeare's script, wherein Tullus Aufidius pays homage to a respected opponent.

As in Cyrano's melodramatic final scene, the stagey effects of Coriolanus' last moments play out as ends in themselves (the former too long and the latter too short), smothering the afterglow.

Yet, despite a few directorial flaws, these two productions are expertly staged and acted, worthy of their respective authors and reminders that pride in all its manifestations is not just a modern phenomenon.

****

Cyrano de Bergerac and Coriolanus play in repertory, with Shakespeare's Twelfth Night, on San Diego's Old Globe Theatre outdoor Festival Stage in Balboa Park through September 27.

Curtain is at 8 pm, Tues-Sun.

Tickets are $29-$68, with discounts for students, seniors and active military.

Reservations: www.TheOldGlobe.org or (619) 23-GLOBE.