In Cyrano, My Love (2018), director Alexis Michalik crafts a vibrant ode to the creative process, weaving a fictionalized origin story of Edmond Rostand’s Cyrano de Bergerac with a theatrical pulse that feels both timeless and immediate. The film’s greatest strength lies in its screenplay, a deft tapestry of wit and pathos that mirrors Rostand’s own struggle to birth a masterpiece. Michalik, adapting his own stage play, infuses the dialogue with a rhythmic cadence, allowing characters to spar verbally in a way that feels like a love letter to language itself. The narrative dances between comedy and melancholy, capturing the chaotic alchemy of artistic creation without romanticizing it to the point of caricature. Thomas Solivérès as Rostand is a revelation, his wide-eyed earnestness tempered by a quiet desperation that grounds the film’s more theatrical flourishes. His performance, particularly in scenes of writerly anguish, conveys the weight of creation as both a personal and communal act.

Yet, the film’s ambition occasionally outpaces its execution. The cinematography, while lush and evocative of Belle Époque Paris, sometimes leans too heavily on golden-hued nostalgia, risking visual monotony in its effort to charm. Certain shots linger on period details gaslit theaters, ink-stained desks at the expense of dynamic storytelling. Similarly, the score, though elegant, lacks the emotional specificity to elevate key moments, often fading into the background rather than amplifying the drama. These missteps, while noticeable, don’t overshadow the film’s heart: its celebration of art as a collaborative, imperfect endeavor.

The ensemble cast, particularly Olivier Gourmet as the gruff yet tender Constant Coquelin, breathes life into the theatrical world, making every rehearsal scene crackle with urgency. Michalik’s direction shines in these moments, using the stage as a metaphor for the blurred lines between life and performance. The film’s Parisian setting is not just a backdrop but a character, its cobblestone streets and smoky cafés pulsing with the energy of a city on the cusp of modernity. Cyrano, My Love succeeds not by reinventing the historical drama but by reminding us that great art, like love, is born from vulnerability and persistence. It’s a film that invites us to revel in the messiness of creation, flaws and all, and leaves us humming its cadences long after the credits roll.