It’s a story that has influenced art for centuries – the tale of a man who possessed immense poetic talents and a valiant approach to living his adventurous life, but who was always primarily judged for the size of his nose, which brought him just as many jeers as it did cheers over the course of his life. Many have approached the story of Cyrano de Bergerac, especially from the perspective of Edmond Rostand’s iconic verse drama, which was first produced in 1897, and has subsequently been the influence for many later works in numerous ways, both as a direct adaptation, or as a loose source of inspiration for others, which take the story and use its primary narrative in its exploration of a series of additional themes. One of the more prominent adaptations is that by Michael Gordon, who worked with José Ferrer in bringing Rostand’s play to the screen, the first English-language adaptation of the work, and the one that would be seen as the definitive version for nearly half a century, until Gérard Depardieu brought his own interpretation to the screen (and this isn’t even mentioning Roxanne, a modern take on the play, and arguably its most beloved adaptation). This just goes to show that when it comes to Cyrano de Bergerac, countless have been able to draw inspiration from the trials and tribulations of this peculiar but fascinating individual, whose story has served as one of the most gripping tales of valour and romance ever committed to the page – and Gordon brings it to the screen in a way that is utterly unforgettable, and always enthralling, even when it is at its most seemingly pedestrian.

The most appropriate way to view this version of Cyrano de Bergerac is as a comedy – in essence, Rostand originally wrote the play to encompass a broad spectrum of humour, which is reflected in the life of its subject, whose antics make for a profoundly funny series of adventures, which is very likely the result of the original author’s liberal use of artistic freedom to fashion together a rivetting and very simple version of the esteemed poet’s life. By all counts, we don’t know much about Cyrano de Bergerac outside of Rostand’s work, so it only makes sense that we’d conflate reality with the semi-fictional world created by the playwright, whose words have subsequently been appropriated, translated and shifted around depending on the production, and the extent to which it was required for each individual production. In this regard, Gordon’s version of Cyrano de Bergerac is relatively straightforward. It is mainly a direct translation of the play, with a few major changes in terms of dialogue and a few alterations regarding the actual story – but the most important aspects of the original play are kept intact. The musicality of the language is remarkable (a credit to the screenwriting team tasked with translating Rostand’s work and forming it into a solid script – it isn’t surprising that Orson Welles was an uncredited writer on the film), the humour is well-calibrated and the visual splendour is evident, even through the very straightforward black-and-white photography, which manages to capture the majesty of 17th century France with incredible consistency, each frame reflecting the time and place in a way that is incredibly beautiful, especially for a stage-to-screen adaptation, which are often cited as being unattractive and gaudy, which certainly does not apply to this version of the play.

Undeniably, while Gordon may be the credited director, Cyrano de Bergerac was the passion project of José Ferrer, who had previously played the role on Broadway, having spent innumerable evenings on the stage, developing and nurturing this version of the character, to the point where (despite the many other adaptations), Ferrer turns in the definitive version of Cyrano, possessing a gracefulness and ferocious wit that could only come from a lot of time spent carefully pulling the character apart and understanding him through the author’s original words, as well as the paltry credible information one can find about the original poet. Ferrer is magnificent in the role – he was a prolific actor who turned in many fantastic performances over the course of his long career, but it’s this particular character that has always defined him as an actor, his easygoing interpretation of Cyrano being one of the most interesting examples of a character being brought to life on screen. The film surrounding him is quite dramatic and stoic, so its almost entirely the responsibility of Ferrer to not only faithfully portray Rostand’s dashing hero, but incite the humour and earnest heart that is integral to the film, especially since no one else in the film is willing to rise to his level (as much as they try, Mala Powers and William Prince are not nearly as good as Ferrer, despite playing extremely important characters). He delivers, and was justly awarded for his performance, not only in terms of accolades, but by becoming the gold standard for theatrical performances being captured on film, and the embodiment of what a strong actor can do when given a role that is bursting with possibilities, and needs someone who can harness only the most important and interesting of them, and turn them into a memorable screen portrayal.

When it comes to its primary themes, Cyrano de Bergerac is very much on the nose (pun absolutely intended), but that doesn’t matter too much when we consider the story being told. One of the joys of the swashbuckling adventure genre in which this film is one of the most notable entries is that they’re so beautifully simple – there isn’t any real need for complex storylines or exceptionally deep messages, at least not outside of the central premise. Cyrano de Bergerac resonates because not only is the story simple, but it is relevant – a man who is the embodiment of both bravery and intelligence finds himself shunned by the woman he loves based purely on his appearance, and even goes so far as to allow his own beautiful words to become that of another, adoring his beloved Roxane through the eyes and mouth of another. This is a theme that has been consistently explored in a range of forms, but it’s most effective when coming from the source itself. Perhaps the emotional impact is slightly lost in the shuffle of transferring the play to the screen (Gordon adds longer fight scenes, and makes use of the medium to expand the world, sometimes at the expense of the more interesting moments in the story that occur concurrently), but there is still an abundance of heart present throughout the film. The humour breaks the tension and allows us to be at ease throughout, despite an oddly depressing final act, where the joy that pervaded the previous hour and a half is almost entirely missing, in favour of a melodramatic conclusion that may seem jarring, but works perfectly in the context of the film, and the multilayered nature of the story.

This version of Cyrano de Bergerac is a charming and memorable film, and one that pays sufficient tribute to the original source, both in terms of the real-life individual whose experiences inspired the story, and the playwright who captured the spirit of his adventures and turned them into this irreverent and lovable adventure comedy. It is anchored by a very impressive performance by Ferrer, who turns in his most defining work as the titular poet and adventurer, whose role in the literary folklore has always been considered interesting, regardless of the work that is being examined. It may not be the most nuanced or artistically-resonant version of this story, but it is one of the most solid – an entertaining, rivetting historical epic with excellent action sequences and a lot of carefully-constructed humour that makes this a wonderfully entertaining film. It is able to use its time to explore the details of the story thoroughly, but without overstaying its welcome. Overall, its a wonderfully unique and exciting film that keeps the viewer engaged, whether it be through its spirited retelling of this wonderful story, or the excellent visual and creative scope that transports us back to France in the 17th century, the attention to detail being truly impressive and meaningful to a fault, resulting in a film that may not be as widely seen as other period dramas from the time, but is more than deserving of a place in the conversation.