Love or hate him, Joe Wright takes big swings as a filmmaker. Even in broadly commercial affairs like 2017’s Darkest Hour, the British director likes to make grand, elegant pictures filled with bold displays of love and emotionality, never afraid to showcase his sincerity for the sake of theatricality.
The results, rather expectedly, vary. Atonement is a sweeping success and Pan is a befuddling misfire. Hanna is a hell of a good time, but The Soloist is a melodramatic, middlebrow affair. The Woman in the Window is an overcooked boilerplate thriller, while Anna Karenina is, at its best, some of the most lavish storybook storytelling in recent memory. You never know which way the wind will blow with Wright. But there’s no doubt about it: Wright will put his all into every one of his films.
Cyrano is no exception. This extravagant, vehemently, openly earnest musical adaptation of Edmond Rostand’s 1897 play, Cyrano de Bergerac, which is also based on screenwriter Erica Schmidt’s 2018 stage musical of the same name, is expectedly lavish and unabashedly exuberant in its approach. It favors big, bold declarations of love, heavy-handed showmanship, and open-hearted displays of affection. Though not without humor, thankfully provided by Schmidt’s witty script, there’s a grandeur to the production that’s both gratifying and exhausting in equal measure.
It’s an old-fashioned tragic romance, one that’s as respectful as it is oddly chaste, and Cyrano pays little-to-no mind to how samey and repetitive the musical numbers can be. These issues prevent the film from reaching the heights of its grandest ambitions, but its story is told with such craft, such passion, such shameless sensibility that you can’t help but be taken by its charming ballet.
Judged through the prism of Wright’s ever-shifting filmography, Cyrano is quite extravagant in its mission but only modest in its success. His formalistic approach plays to Cyrano’s benefit and detriment. He’s too accomplished as a visual storyteller to produce outright mediocrity, yet his inability to breathe a genuine sense of vibrancy and spontaneity prevents this stage show from being what it’s belting to be.
And yet, that same theater-kid energy is the movie’s best asset. Especially when it comes to its accomplished cast. As a showcase for Peter Dinklage’s overdue time in the spotlight, it’s a vulnerable, impassioned showcase, filled with great depth, explorative sensitivity, and even stammering pathos. Even when the material can’t quite find the right balance between storybook traditionalism and modern-age reinvention, Cyrano does find its footing—if not always its tune—through the voracious eagerness and charisma that Dinklage brings to the lead character. It justifies this latest retelling, even when Wright doesn’t quite land every sharp swing of sword and words.
Much like the original text, based loosely on a real man, Cyrano follows our hapless romantic lead who’s gifted with a voluminous vocabulary, an elegant tongue, a fast wit, a soldier’s heart, and a brilliant sword hand. But due to his short stature, Cyrano pines for but never vocalizes his love for the dear Roxanne (Haley Bennett, Wright’s wife in real life), a socialite looking for her Prince Charming, despite her family’s desire for her to marry into wealth.
Cyrano’s long held a friendship with Roxanne but can’t find the strength to express his true love for her. And his feelings become even more unsteady as he learns that Roxanne harbors a crush on the handsome Christian (Kelvin Harrison Jr.), a sweet-natured, if not always witty, young suitor who quickly takes Roxanne’s heart. Through Christian’s handsome looks and Cyrano’s way with words combined, these two hopeless romantics try their best to win over the affections of this fair lady. But with war raging on, what will prevail: love or tragedy?
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Similar to the appealing tunes provided by The National’s Aaron and Bryce Desser, Cyrano is always competent but never quite dynamic enough to diversify itself on a scene-by-scene basis. Every sequence carries great craftsmanship and the well-versed talents of its talented ensemble. It also helps that Schmidt’s Broadway-friendly screenplay remains appealingly clever in its cutting, snappy dialogue. Yet as it hums along, Cyrano falls into a comfortably monotonous rhythm, and it misses something as stunning as Atonement’s single-shot Dunkirk beach sequence to pull the viewer back into its good graces. Thus, Wright’s film doesn’t pop as often as it ultimately should. That’s not to say that it plays it safe, just that it’s missing a certain zeal it’s clearly going for.
What Cyrano lacks in spontaneity and spunk, it almost makes up for in terms of sheer sincerity on the part of everyone involved. It’s clear that the whole cast and crew are committed to making a timeless classic. They want to put together a movie that’s worthy of the tale’s long-storied legacy, while also being singular enough to be more than just another adaptation.
They achieve a captivating loveliness, which can often make you appreciate a movie this unabashedly willing to be so unabashedly lovey-dovey. Even if it’s amorous to an arguable, bizarre fault, Cyrano’s winsome sweetness is refreshing at a time when such heartfelt effort can be perceived as a cinematically lethal sin. It’s a laborious effort, but also clearly a labor of love.
The film’s old-fashioned enthusiasm is only undermined by Wright’s inability to step away from the source material’s rigid story. Supporting characters come off as a bit stock, and musical numbers can be somewhat stiff in their staging. But as an emotional effort to win moviegoers over with an old, reliable classic, with some clear changes made to justify itself in its newest revision, Cyrano is nearly a return to form for Wright, providing him with something comfortably in his wheelhouse, while also seeing him explore a brand new genre. And with enough gumption to woo even the most cynical audiences.
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Cyrano opened in wide release in the United States starting February 25. Watch the trailer here.
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