It would seem that Cyrano de Bergerac is having a bit of a moment. A year after Alice Wu updated Edmond Rostand’s 1897 play into the brilliant The Half of It (2020), Hollywood’s Period-Piecer-in-Chief Joe Wright unveils Cyrano (2021). However, this time there are songs. Adapted by Erica Schmidt from her 2018 stage musical of the same name and featuring music by “The National,” Cyrano offers an inventive approach to one of the more regularly adapted Neo-Romantic plays. Filmed on location in Sicily, with a cast and crew quarantined together during the height of COVID-19, Cyrano presents a faithful, if deliciously spruced up, adaptation of Rostand’s text. Notably, while the original story fixates on Cyrano’s enormous nose as the one thing stopping him from achieving all he wants, Cyrano refashions the story to fit star Peter Dinklage and the antipathy he faces.
For the uninitiated, the tale follows Cyrano (Peter Dinklage) as he pines for his childhood friend Roxanne (Haley Bennett). While he is regarded as a brilliant wordsmith and swordsman, he represses his love for Roxanne. He fears she will reject him on account of his diminutive height. Complicating everything further, Roxanne falls in “love at first sight” with Christian (Kelvin Harrison Jr.). Christian also happens to be a new recruit to Cyrano’s regiment. Roxanne implores Cyrano to have Christian write her. When Cyrano discovers Christian is a dolt when it comes to words, he agrees to ghost-write love letters to Roxanne on Christian’s behalf. All the while, slimy Duke De Guiche (Ben Mendelsohn) angles to force Roxanne into marrying him. In totality, Cyrano delivers rambunctious and melancholy consideration of love, loss, and yearning.
Peter Dinklage
Dinklage arrives as a disembodied voice. When a famous buffoon of an actor arrives in town to perform, Cyrano confronts him at the theater. He lashes the actor with couplets and turns of phrase about his abysmal acting. It begins off-screen but then Dinklage arrives at the center of the frame. Schmidt’s script maintains some of Rostand’s original prose, but with her adjustments and Dinklage’s heavenly line-readings the sequence sings anew. The sequence has always been one of the great character introductions. Here, it functions to establish each facet of the character and Dinklage’s interpretation of him. He fires off witticisms with winks and aplomb, modulating between a booming baritone and alluring whispers. When Valvert (Joshua James) challenges him to a duel, Dinklage unveils astonishing swordcraft, solidifying his total control.
Cyrano is an unduly complex character. The crushing center of unrequited longing sits within a man consistently the smartest and deadliest person in the room. The emotional jigsawing necessary to credibly hit each note could crush lesser performers. Dinklage bends not for a single beat. While there are any number of reasons for this, I cannot help but come back to the remarkable facial control Dinklage continuously displays. A tick of the eyebrow here, a curled lip there, and the occasional nostril flare, he conveys every micro-emotion possible. Look no further than a devastating bakery sequence. Roxanne comes to make a “confession in private,” one that Cyrano can only dream is her love for him. He first thinks it is true, but then realizes no, it is Christian. Wright smartly keeps the camera tight on Dinklage because it is a clinic in acting craft.
Song and Dance
While he may be the principal part, Dinklage is surrounded by a deep field of gifted performers. That fact especially shines when it comes to musical numbers. Key among them is Bennett’s turn as Roxanne. Faced with a character the audience is fundamentally pre-disposed to be frustrated with, Bennett must navigate presenting Roxanne as caring and intelligent while leaving space for the belief that she could be fooled into taking Cyrano and Christian’s deception at face value. She does so outside of musical scenes, but Schmidt and “The National” deliver her the film’s most show-stopping songs. Chiefly, “I Need More.” Bennett rips into the power ballad, unloading Roxanne’s lifetime of being told to settle for less because it’s easier, defying that maxim to yearn for a fulfilling existence. Here and all over Cyrano, Bennett is shattering in her rawness.
Elsewhere, Harrison Jr. reveals a luscious tenor tone that he applies with equal verve to the sweet “Someone to Say (Reprise)” and heartbreaking “Wherever I Fall.” That combination reflects as well his spirited take on Christian, one that aptly blends boyish immaturity with real heart. He is wonderful in scenes with Dinklage and Bennett alike, all the more enthralling when the three of them interlace on my personal favorite song, “Every Letter.” Plus, as a part of the lightly sprinkled in dance sequences that crop up with a handful of songs, Harrison Jr.’s lithe style promises that casting directors should take note of his multi-faceted talent. He can sing, dance, and absolutely hold his own with Dinklage, one of the most gifted actors on the planet.
Joe Wright
I have an admittedly conflicted relationship with Wright’s filmography. His adaptations of Pride and Prejudice (2005) and Anna Karenina (2012) are glorious affairs, but I may never forgive for massacring my beloved Atonement (2007) or the trudging gloom of Darkest Hour (2017). Nonetheless, putting baggage aside, Cyrano marks a distinct return to top form after nearly a decade of near misses and utter bombs. Wright’s penchant for shooting on location with the goal of juicing every ounce of lushness from the collective work of his costumers and production designers suits Cyrano faultlessly. Wright and regular cinematographer Seamus McGarvey consistently uses the sandy colors of their principal location as a way to make everything else pop. Cyrano’s red guard outfit. Roxanne’s blue gown. The spirited hues of candles and torches. All of it simply sings across the screen.
It also strikes me that Wright is a gifted director in terms of using his frame to its full potential. Too often, directors pick wide lenses and expansive frames only to end up with aesthetically echoey scenes. Emptiness without justification for their vastness. Not here, not with Wright. He marries foreground, background, and performance to sculpt a visual language of fullness. He never overdoes it to slide into cluttered scenes. In turn, this lends the moments of relative emptiness that much more thematic and emotional heft. The starkness of the snowy battleground practically knocks the air out of you after the preceding abundance. In short, Wright’s commitment to utilizing space is incredibly refreshing.
Conclusion
Cyrano has faced a protracted journey to wide release after a triumphant festival run followed by a series of delayed release dates. Finally, though, you can see it this Friday, and I pledge to you that slipping into this sumptuous movie is well worth the price of admission.
Devin McGrath-Conwell holds a B.A. in Film / English from Middlebury College and is currently pursuing an MFA in Screenwriting from Emerson College. His obsessions include all things horror, David Lynch, the darkest of satires, and Billy Joel. Devin’s writing has also appeared in publications such as Filmhounds Magazine, Film Cred, Horror Homeroom, and Cinema Scholars.
