With another adaptation of Rostand's 1897 play comes the question: is it warranted? Emily Warner examines the pros and cons of Joe Wright's 2022 production.
Image Credit: MGM
If you thought that the creative industry had exhausted Edmund Rostand’s 1897 play Cyrano de Bergerac for new imaginings, you’d be wrong. Joe Wright’s film Cyrano, combining drama, music and romance is a fresh interpretation. Casting Peter Dinklage as Cyrano de Bergerac was Wright’s first successful decision. What the Game of Thrones star lacks in musical talent he more than compensates for in acting ability; with the raising of an eyebrow, Dinklage skillfully shifts the entire mood of a scene from comic to devastating, or from romantic to tragic. His expressive role in this film is essential to its impact.
From the opening scene, Wright plunges his audience into 17th century Italy and ‘minimalist’ is not a word that can be applied to this menagerie of stimulation. Women disappear beneath meringue-like layers of tulle and lace whilst men are comparably slathered in enough white face paint, to rival Dracula’s complexion. The streets are bustling with market sellers and couples for whom strolling hand in hand isn’t enough, they must be performing an elaborate ballet routine or frantically fluttering their fans. Through this frenzy sails Roxanne, masterfully played by Haley Bennet, in her carriage. She is seated alongside the Duke de Guiche (a deliciously villainous caricature) on her way to see a play. Evidently, Wright couldn't resist an allusion to the stage musical, written by Erica Schmidt, which the film is based on. Here the viewer is pleasantly assaulted by yet more sensory layers, with a stage setting that offers ample opportunity to flaunt elaborate sets and costumes (take, for example, a series of dancers dressed as sheep, who tiptoe around in their candy floss attire, wobbling comically to the beat).
Amidst the chaos enters Kelvin Harrison Jr. as Christian de Neuvillette. A moment of eye contact between the young soldier and Roxanne results in instantaneous silence, conjuring up the age-old trope of love at first sight. A version of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet refigured in film; ‘Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight / For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.’ All of this occurs before the dramatic entrance of Cyrano, whose lack of stage presence in the opening moments represents his concealment behind the handsome Christian throughout the film. Even his actual entrance is preceded by a speech delivered offstage. This untethered voice is all that Cyrano is, estranged from the body which impedes him and symbolic of the film's tragic twist; he is eloquent without beauty. As Cyrano expresses, ‘my sole purpose on this earth is to love Roxanne’ and yet devastatingly, in a world where appearance dominates, he is doomed to do so from the side-wings. The opening of the film, therefore, constructs an intricate metaphor for Cyrano’s role throughout, as someone heard but not seen.
Interestingly, in the traditional story of Cyrano de Bergerac, the reason for Cyrano’s insecurity is his abnormally large nose – a detail which was farcical and phallic, almost laughably so. In this version, however, the focus has shifted from Cyrano’s nose to his height, incorporating modern issues surrounding our approach to disability and dwarfism. In doing so, the narrative is more relatable and Cyrano’s struggle engenders pathos more sincere than an articulate but large-nosed man would. Roxanne’s character is also modernised, by expressing feminist sentiments of independence and aspiring to a love between equals, rather than marriage for financial support. These ideas are most potently realised in the song ‘I Need More’ (arguably the most passionate performance in a series of disappointingly lacklustre songs). Here, Roxanne asserts her right for ‘more’, without realising that the ‘more’ she aspires to is Cyrano, highlighting her feminism whilst also exposing her obliviousness.
Despite these deviations from the traditional story, the focus on words remains central. Initially, these are exchanged between Roxanne and Christian (Cyrano writing on his behalf). This occurs during the song ‘Every Letter’, and the process of reading these letters is highly sexualised, and fraught with tension. Roxanne is seen dragging the letters across her skin and writhing around in bed clutching them - her relationship with the words therefore becomes almost sexual, problematising who she actually loves. The balcony scene follows (a homage to the famous Romeo and Juliet scene) in which Cyrano feeds words to the faltering Christian from behind an archway. Some commentary is hidden here about the merits of high and low art, with Cyrano representing the supposedly superior poetic mode and Christian the lesser common speak. I mention this without having room to unpack its implications, but the subtext just demonstrates the many complex layers to this film.
When Christian and Cyrano are sent to war, all sense of humour vanishes, and a bleak scene is painted. Within this hostile environment one thing prevails; the written word. The significance here extends from the personal to the universal, as various soldiers contribute their own voice to the story, expressing the importance of writing home. Words become more than a way of verbalising thoughts and reach directly into the souls of those around us engendering a deep form of connection. A subtle touch which Wright adds to the film is the tucking of letters into the left-hand side of characters' clothing, next to their heart. Although simple, this act holds within it all the love, heartbreak, grief and conflict which permeates the film.
By the final scene, the opening extravagance is gone, replaced by an empty, white setting. The final sequence of dialogue between Roxanne and Cyrano, then, is starkly unornamented. Cyrano even notes that the light shining on them is ‘enough beauty’ in itself so the whole scene resembles an empty stage, with a single spotlight placed on Cyrano (directly contrasting his off-stage role at the beginning). Finally, his speech stands alone, without the need for exaggerated appearances, and in these last moments, all deceit is stripped away. Words simply become a vessel for true feeling.
Editor’s Note: this film was screened at City Screen York