Joe Wright’s Cyrano opens on a beautifully framed image of a marionette. After his mishandled attempt at noir-y thriller The Woman In The Window, the director, whose parents ran a puppet theatre, has returned to more solid, fruitful ground, ironically by embracing his more experimental side: a musical adaptation of Edmond Rostand’s 1897 play Cyrano de Bergerac, based on Erica Schmidt’s 2018 stage show, scored by The National and shot during the pandemic in Sicily. It might be more eccentric than engaging and it can’t escape the yarn’s well-worn contours, but it’s regularly inventive, lush-as-anything, and grounded by a charismatic Peter Dinklage performance.
Dinklage originated this incarnation on stage (he is married to creator Schmidt) and the reinvention is a masterstroke, his physical difference feeling instantly more convincing and poignant that the character’s traditional over-sized hooter. His loquacious Cyrano is a skilled swordsman with the courage to effortlessly take down ten assailants — the fights are beautifully staged by Wright — but lacking the bravery to declare his feelings for his childhood friend Roxanne (The Girl On The Train’s Haley Bennett). But when Roxanne falls fast and deep for ridiculously handsome soldier Christian (Waves’ Kelvin Harrison Jr), Cyrano sees an opportunity to share his ardour in a safe way by writing love-letters for the inarticulate military man. “I will make you eloquent,” he suggests, “while you will make me handsome.”
If Cyrano has a precedent in Wright’s back catalogue, it is his adaptation of Anna Karenina, lending another revered classic a mixture of playfulness and high style. courtesy of luscious costumes, theatrical production design and immaculately orchestrated camera moves. If sometimes his MO feels needlessly ornate, other times he gets it exactly right: the way he stages the story’s infamous balcony scene — where Cyrano has to speak Christian’s words — is both believable and magical.
Even if his singing isn’t the strongest, this is Dinklage's movie.
The songs, composed by The National’s Bryce and Aaron Dessner — with lead singer Matt Berninger and Carin Besser providing the lyrics — smack of the band’s bruised romanticism. It’s a mixed bag of tunes but the more memorable songs lie beyond the central duo: Roxanne’s suitor, the detestable Duke De Guiche (a too broad Ben Mendelsohn, rocking a cape like Krennic), gets a strong this-is-my-evil-plan number and the most memorable song is sung by soldiers writing letters home on the eve of a big battle, the combat evocatively mounted by Wright against the white of Mount Etna.
Bennett is engaging as Roxanne — her performance and Erica Schmidt’s writing mitigate the story’s sexist undertow where the character is lumbered with the double-whammy of being dumb and shallow — and Harrison Jr does enough with Christian to complicate the love triangle. But this is Dinklage’s movie. Even if his singing isn’t the strongest, his limitations add to Cyrano’s vulnerability, and he can convey deep wells of intelligence, anger, yearning and regret with the slightest of facial infections. Etching a thoughtful, proud man hamstrung by doubt, he grounds Wright’s footloose and fancy-free aesthetic and makes the final moments surprisingly affecting.
