By Melissa Rose Bernardo
Updated November 27, 2007 at 05:00 AM EST

Jennifer Garner’s cheekbones are a thing of beauty. They’re exceptional. The way they reflect light — it’s as if they were sculpted by Cellini. I kept getting distracted by them…which, come to think of it, was rather fitting for this beautifully dressed, otherwise lifeless production. Director David Leveaux stages a show beautifully. If only he spent less time obsessing over curtains and trees, and more time connecting with his actors, most of whom appear to be in their own individual productions of Cyrano de Bergerac. Kevin Kline, as Rostand’s poetry-spouting, sword-wielding large-nosed hero, underplays. Daniel Sunjata, as his blank but beautiful romantic rival, overplays. And stage neophyte Garner, as their shared objet d’amour, falls somewhere in between. She has the chops; she just needs some focus. Incidentally, no one is aided by Anthony Burgess’ clunky part-verse, part-prose, stuffily classic yet inappropriately-modern-at-times adaptation. Um, did I mention the cheekbones? (Tickets: 212-307-4100 or C