By the end of Joe Wright’s “Cyrano”, which concludes with the requisite solemn tragedy of its source, I realised that I really had not been very taken with his gentle, thoughtful engagement with the more than century-old play. Yet, despite being long-sceptical of every iteration of the character I’ve encountered, dating all the way back to Edmond Rostand original 1897 play “Cyrano de Bergerac”, I felt a surprising and steady compassion for the gentle fragility of the film, Wright’s first foray into a full-blown musical in a moment when his career seems to be at a crossroads.
Here’s the thing about this new (but also old) approach to the character of Cyrano: for a lot of the running-time, Wright’s “Cyrano” offers a strangely warm, and pleasant candour that although not always completely in lockstep with its many parts, or sometimes even the merits of its own story, feels genuinely audacious for the way it develops, so specifically beholden onto itself and confident in that approach. This gentle (or perhaps, genteel) pleasantness sustains almost enthusiastically throughout, up until the necessary turn to very serious things in the final act, to set the closing bits of drama in motion, that remind me why I tend to have no patience for this story. It also makes me wonder why Wright – so audacious with adaptations – seems to display so much fidelity for this text.
Ten years ago, in 2012, Wright made his vivid and ambitious adaptation of Tolstoy’s “Anna Karenina”, a beguiling, literary adaptation that feels more complex and thoughtful than most period pieces of the last decade. His subsequent work (biopic success with “Darkest Hour”, streaming complications with “The Window”) has been ambitious in ways, although without the savvy of period work with former muse Keira Knightley. Still, “Cyrano” feels more instep with the Joe Wright of the aughts (from “Pride and Prejudice” to “Atonement”). Still even as his period output has been interrupted by forays into contemporary biopics (ill-fated but not altogether unsuccessful “The Soloist”) or exuberant fantasy gambles (the misunderstood “Pan”) – it’s important to recognise that Wright, even when not wholly successful, feels like a director who’s committed to experimenting with his work. There’s never the sense of anything less than full commitment, and a lot of this pays off in “Cyrano” especially in the early stretches where the film invokes a willowy atmosphere of fantastical ornateness that feels seductive.
In the original Rostand tale, Cyrano is a brave, talented cadet in the French army. His wit is as impressive as his skills as a duellist and soldier, but his unusually large nose cripples his confidence in romantic pursuits, specifically the pursuit of the intelligent and beautiful Roxane. The tale of unrequited love becomes complicated when Roxane falls for Christian, a beautiful, but unintelligent, soldier in Cyrano’s fleet. For reasons that always strain credulity, Cyrano agrees to help Christian woo Roxane; with Cyrano’s words, and Christian’s looks they are the perfect man. Things go well, until they don’t and then tragedy comes like any good 19th century play. In its original form, “Cyrano” is never convincing as a romance, a comedy, or anything even vaguely resembling a character study. But my own antipathy to the material is out of sync with the long string of adaptations on film, stage and elsewhere.
In this new iteration, the established ugliness of Cyrano is replaced with another physical complication. As played by Peter Dinklage, Cyrano is charming, impressive and witty, but he is a dwarf, whose height deficiency makes him doubt the possibility of Roxane (now renamed Roxanne) ever loving him. The part offers Dinklage the best role on film for his very specific gifts. Even though he is not the most adept singer, his relationship with the material is confident and an unassailable asset to the film. Yet, his casting only emphasises the peculiarities of this story. Beyond his height, Dinklage’s Cyrano seems so in control of his faculties that the plot’s movement from set-up to complication to resolution feels more unnatural than organic. This is not a problem, at first.
The film opens with Haley Bennett’s Roxanne wandering through her house, mulling on a potential engagement with the tedious Duke De Guiche. As she wanders, the wavy dresses (courtesy of Massimo Cantini Parrini and Jacqueline Durran) flow into the billowing curtains (courtesy of Sarah Greenwood and Katie Spencer’s work on the production design) in a kind of dreamscape fantasy world that feels decidedly not real. For the first half, “Cyrano” retains a consistent mood of unreality; it feels more compelling. The music from the National is not how we might expect these characters to sing in this period, but the juxtaposition of the multi-racial casting, the unusual musical motifs, and this world fit together into a state of unreality that benefits from seeming hazily unserious in its approach to love. And it’s a world that looks beautiful – all soft light, and pastel tones.
But any iteration of this story forever appears limited by its inability to truly modulate the dynamics of this love-triangle that feels invested in any sense of stakes. As the polar opposite to Cyrano, Kelvin Harrison Jr is certainly convincing as the “beauty” of Roxanne’s romantic suitors, but it’s a performance of fits and starts. He commits to a register that’s an impressive showcase of his range. (Harrison is one of the best young actors, with some less than ideal taste in projects but even in mixed stuff like “Waves” or “Luce” it’s intriguing to watch just how wide his range is.) In this way, very much of “Cyrano” feels like an experiment that does not add up to a whole that’s consistently stirring but is at least intriguing in little pockets. But Erica Schmidt’s adaptation is so full of fidelity, it holds none of the audacious daring of Christopher Hampton’s approach to Wright’s “Anna Karenina’’ and by the midpoint – for all the commitment of its actors – “Cyrano” flounders in trying to establish an authentic notion of romance in any version of this romantic triangle, which becomes quadrilateral with Ben Mendelsohn’s impressive scenery chewing as De Guiche.
Can a filmmaker be allowed risks that do not pay off? Perhaps, and perhaps not. “Cyrano” has lingered with me more than I expected it to. I’m not sure that “Cyrano” had anything striking to say, which feels oddly out of sequence with Wright who – especially in his excursions into well-worn stories has always been very specific about having an overarching point to his literary adaptations. Or, perhaps, the softness of the point-of-view in “Cyrano” is so willowy that it seems almost out of place with Wright whose lightest films (his “Pride and Prejudice” adaptation ranks near the top of a successful comedic version of a Jane Austen text) have a robustness that “Cyrano” seems to lack. So that even its moving coda feels oddly restrained and even suppressed. Still, I think “Cyrano” offers something intriguing in its approach to musicals, and to period adaptations that make the awful distribution roll-out for it since its premiere at Telluride last September feel truly atrocious. It’s clear the studio has no confidence in the film, and yet there’s something risky and even rewarding in Wright’s commitment that almost defiantly resists contextualising itself in any kind of real-world necessities. There’s a bauble-like element to much of the film’s cadence, and I really do wish they’d stop adapting this story. But, still, individual elements of “Cyrano” offer more than some of the “better” films of the last few months.
Cyrano opens in theatres later in April and will also be available for streaming on PrimeVideo.
