Review: Cyrano – A Tale of Burning Passion and Celestial Desires – Great

I was lucky enough to catch a screening of National Theatre’s version of Cyrano last year. James McAvoy played the titular character, and he was magnificent. He is so utterly charming, witty, eloquent, but also managed to capture Cyrano’s vulnerability and insecurity. To watch him pine in secret for Roxanne was heart wrenching, and as a viewer, you wish so many times for him to just tell her, yet you know that telling someone you love them while they’re so attached to someone else can never end the way you want it to. It doesn’t help that you also look at yourself as someone unworthy and inferior.

McAvoy was so good I didn’t think anyone could best him in the role. I was wrong, because Peter Dinklage is very good too. He brings something different to the role, and does well in capturing the two sides of Cyrano, the confident posturing and the vulnerable romantic. His first proper scene with Roxanne (Haley Bennett) is an intoxicating watch, for we know she speaks of falling in love with Christian (Kelvin Harrison Jr.), while he blindly hopes that she’s talking about him. It’s almost like he’s holding his breath, unable to believe that what he’s dreamt of for so long is coming true – but of course it isn’t. Roxanne’s affections are not for him, but for another, a man he now needs to befriend on her request.

After the flop that was The Woman in the Window, it’s great to see director Joe Wright back in his wheelhouse again.

The costuming and surroundings in Cyrano are pink hued to reflect the sentiment of romance, with singing and dancing contributing to the vibe and atmosphere of the film. The singing isn’t world class or anything, but it communicates the feelings of these characters well enough. The choreography does a stellar job of conveying the sensuality and passion of words, as the characters sing of their longings through letters exchanged or when the imagery of baking is used to speak of love. It’s beautiful stuff, and if you’ve watched other Wright films like Anna Karenina or Pride and Prejudice, you’ll know it’s a pattern of his to use dance to such an effect.

I love how Roxanne and Christian are supposed to be physically compatible, and yet their scenes together are devoid of chemistry and fire, while Roxanne’s encounters with Cyrano smolders with the raptures of wit. It isn’t enough to merely say I love you; we want true intimacy, we want imagination and awe, we want to burn. In the letters, Roxanne feels seen. She’s always been beautiful, there’s always been men throwing themselves at her, claiming to love her – but in Cyrano’s words, she is more.

Cyrano is a wonderful examination of how we look at love. Is it the instant lightning that Roxanne and Christian experience? Is it found in the banter and familiarity of an old friend? Or is it the waves of hurt you must endure just for someone else’s happiness? Love is all of the above, but most importantly of all, love is about faith – having faith that the one you love will see you for everything that you are. Cyrano’s failing isn’t in his physical imperfection, it’s not trusting that Roxanne would be able to see him the way he sees her. That is the tragedy of this tale, to have had a love of flame and falling stars and yet be forever distant from it.

As conventions of romance have fallen away one by one in modern society – like writing letters and penning love poetry – to witness a celebration of wit like Cyrano makes me so happy. Maybe literature and poetry aren’t dead after all.

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