Legendary French romantic Cyrano de Bergerac reportedly had a very long nose, so long that it stretched 250 years beyond his death to inspire the pen of Edmond Rostand, who immortalized him as the titular dueling poet in his epic 1897 play. That famous nose traveled further, all the way to the twenty-first century, adapted and re-imagined countless times along the way until its latest iteration, the musical film ‘Cyrano,’ in which there is nothing particularly remarkable about the titular poet’s nose at all.
Instead, as acclaimed ‘Game of Thrones’ alumnus Peter Dinklage steps into Cyrano’s boots, the root for the character’s public mockery and private struggle with self-doubt and pride is his dwarfism. But despite such a drastic surface-level change, the heart of the story remains the same. Originating as a passion project for Dinklage and his wife, Erica Schmidt, who wrote and directed the original stage production, it returns the tale to its original era and grandiose scope while retaining its focus as a character study of the iconic main character.
For the film adaptation, directing duties are handed off to Joe Wright. Wright made his name with luscious period pieces like ‘Pride and Prejudice,’ so longtime fans of his work should know exactly what to expect from his return to high classical romance. It is an era that lends itself well to the musical format, and, unlike some prestigious directors who have tried to tackle such adaptations without a proper understanding of it, Wright is no such disappointment. Under his direction, each song and dance feels naturally in place in the elaborately designed world of 17th Century France.
The gorgeous sets, makeup and costumes make for a vivid landscape harkening back to the sort of Hollywood epics that are so rarely produced these days. In that, the production finds its central conflict: balancing the needs of a sprawling three-plus hour play with the constraints of a contemporary film industry reluctant to pay for anything over two hours not starring a superhero.
The end result of taking Schmidt’s original, 10-person show and scaling it up to this degree without full creative control is a truncated version of the story, never completely filling the frame it has built for itself. The cast and crew clearly realize this, however, and strive in each fully realized moment we do get to carry the story forward.
Dinklage brings the full force of his dramatic gifts to the lead role, lending a compelling sense of pathos to every line and interaction. Schmidt has discussed her desire to deliver a Cyrano who cannot simply remove the prosthetic that sets him apart once the bows are done. That desire to present a more authentic take on a familiar character comes through clearly, setting the performance apart not just for its lack of a fake nose, but as one of the most compelling versions of all time.
At times, though, Dinklage does feel ill at ease within the unfamiliar trappings of a musical, and his deeply nuanced presence sometimes gets lost amidst the spectacle. Opposing him as his unrequited love, Roxanne, Haley Bennett thrives in the larger moments, and the filmmakers seem to realize this, centering most of the large numbers around her. Ben Mendelsohn shows up to fulfill his role as Hollywood’s new favorite villain and is clearly having a blast as the entitled, slimy Duke De Guiche, whose brief spotlight moment delivers a gripping ‘villain song’ that does its best to relieve the dearth of them from recent musicals. Rounding out the four leads, Kelvin Harrison Jr. fills his place as Christian admirably, but never really finds a way to stand out in a role designed to pale in comparison to Cyrano.
In the end, it is telling that the most convicting number doesn’t feature the leads at all. In ‘Wherever I Fall,’ the film stops to listen to three unnamed soldiers known only as Guard 1, Guard 2 and Guard 3. Poised on the crux of a suicidal battle, the film slows to listen to their final letters home, mailing their loves, regrets, and lost hopes away to those they leave behind. Here, amid all the fast-paced spectacle, the script finally takes time to breathe and captures a beautiful, mournful moment that proves the most memorable of all once the credits roll.
While the visual trappings of the exquisite design and sprawling choreography are worth the price of admission, the scope of the story is tragically bound to never match the production value. Great artists, however, recognize their own constraints. Schmidt and Dinklage both know that when the theater doors open and lights come on, what will matter most is if the small, personal moments have touched their audience. And in that, they have delivered a portrait of a character worth revisiting for years to come.
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