The Count of Monte Cristo
Yet another telling of the 1844 Alexandre Dumas swashbuckler too often feels convoluted and melodramatic to totally satisfy a new generation.
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Of the forty-one novels written between 1841 and 1850 by the 19th-century author Alexandre Dumas, two in particular appear to have acquired everlasting life. The passage of time brings with it huge changes of taste, not least in the sphere of works that have achieved popular success. Nevertheless, both The Three Musketeers and The Count of Monte Cristo retain an appeal which appears to render them impervious to that threat. Even so, that popularity which can readily be measured by considering the number of adaptations of each which have appeared as cinema films or television treatments – around thirty for both The Three Musketeers and for The Count of Monte Cristo – is in each case of a distinctive and individual kind. The former, published in 1844, is the quintessence of the adventure tale of men who form a band of brothers (“one for all and all for one ") while the latter, appearing shortly afterwards, is the story of a man who suffers years in prison as a victim of injustice and then escapes intent on revenging himself on those responsible. As that suggests it contains elements that make it a much darker work than its predecessor.
With Dumas being French it is hardly surprising that the general reader in that country has embraced these works generation by generation, yet the same appears to apply internationally. Nevertheless, the latest film versions of each are indeed French. First we had 2023’s The Three Musketeers made in two parts (D’Artagnan and Milady) by Martin Bourboulan and now there is this brand-new epic treatment of The Count of Monte Cristo by Matthieu Delporte and Alexandre de La Patallière directing from their own screenplay. Some intellectuals may be eager to distain Dumas, choosing to criticise rather than to admire his ability to capture public appeal to this degree, but this latest adaptation of his work has already been a smash hit in France.
The Count of Monte Cristo opens with a betrayal so rank that it attracts extreme empathy with the victim. 19-year-old Edmond Dantès (Pierre Niney) is arrested unjustly on his wedding day accused of treason and condemned to life imprisonment in the island fortress known as the Château d’If. For fourteen years he is in solitary confinement. Nevertheless, he acquires a secret contact with another prisoner intent on tunnelling his way out – that's the Abbé Faria (Pierfrancesco Favino) - and this proves to be a bond which saves his sanity. In the event it takes Faria’s death and an alternative escape plan for Dantès to get away from his prison but his belated good fortune extends to Faria having made Edmond his heir and thus the owner of a fortune buried on the island of Monte Cristo.
It's no wonder that the opening segment of this vast novel is the most vividly remembered. It leads into a complex tale in which total sympathy is felt for Dantès as he seeks revenge on the three key conspirators who brought about his downfall: Fernand Mondego later Count de Mercef (Bastien Bouillon), Danglars (Patrick Mille) and Gérard de Villefort (Laurent Lafitte). Fernand is the man determined to get Dantès banished due to the fact that he has plans (ultimately successful) to marry the woman who was to have been Edmond’s bride, Mercédès (Anaïs Demoustier). Danglars is presented here as the captain of a ship who loses out to Edmond, its first mate, who has been promoted in his place and then finds a ploy to frame Dantès as a Bonapartist (this is 1815 and the Emperor has returned from Elba in one last bid to regain power). Villefort is the unscrupulous magistrate prepared to bring the weight of the law to bear leading to Edmond being sentenced.
When Edmond Dantès returns to public life he names himself the Count of Monte Cristo and the exceptional wealth that is now his makes him a figure in high society. It also enables him to go all out for revenge even if he prefers to call it by another name, justice, which he will enact himself since God has failed to do so (all three of his enemies have prospered during the years that he was in the Château d’If with Danglars becoming a banker and Villefort a royal persecutor). His plan to destroy them involves twisting the knife in complex ways by exposing disgraceful secrets in their own lives and affecting the fate of the next generation as represented by Albert de Morcef (Vassili Schneider), the son of Fernand and Mercédès, and by Andrea (Julien De Saint Jean), Villefort’s illegitimate son by his mistress who is the wife of Danglars (Julie De Bona).
Considered as a revenge drama this is theoretically potent stuff and it is certainly not ineffective even if it loses out somewhat due to the complexity of the plotting (the narrative surrounding all three targets is interwoven and also involves the Count taking up play-acting by disguising himself to act out roles that will further his plans). It means too that the tale feels increasingly melodramatic although on the printed page the quality of the prose somewhat helps to play that down. On film, as shown in this version by Delaporte and La Patellière, the various elements involved more obviously clash. Melodrama is all very well but it's a style that makes it difficult to achieve a real emotional response. Nevertheless, Mercédès, who alone recognises the Count as being Edmond Dantès, is portrayed here as the love of his life and she as his, but it is no fault of either Niney or Demoustier that as a love story the film leaves us unmoved.
The latter stages of the story also fail to blend together in another way. The revenge tale is such that we are encouraged to relish it when Dantès punishes those who betrayed him but when it becomes clear that his retribution will also affect a second innocent generation his actions come into question. Here we find the story turning into some kind of morality tale, but this film is all too ready to turn away from that to focus primarily on a big-scale sword fight. Suddenly we are back in the world of the standard swashbuckling adventure tale but to stress that as this film does fails to do justice to the emotional heart of the story and to the sense of revenge being taken too far.
These weaknesses leave us with a film that is competently acted but which never causes us to feel greatly for the characters, but perhaps that is to quibble. The fine production values and the film’s ability to hold the viewer for virtually three hours without any longueurs makes for an entertaining evening out at the cinema. That's not an easy thing to do but The Count of Monte Cristo certainly achieves it.
Original title: Le comte de Monte Cristo.
MANSEL STIMPSON
Cast: Pierre Niney, Bastien Bouillon, Anaïs Demoustier, Anamaria Vartelomei, Laurent Lafitte, Patrick Mille, Pierfrancesco Favino, Vassili Schneider, Julien De Saint Jean, Julie De Bona, Adèle Simphal, Stéphane Varupenne, Marie Narbonne, Bruno Raffaelli, Bernard Blancan, Lily Dupont, Abde Maziane.
Dir Matthieu Delaporte and Alexandre de La Patallière, Pro Dimitri Rassam, Screenplay Matthieu Delaporte and Alexandre de la Patallière, from the novel by Alexandre Dumas, Ph Nicolas Bolduc, Pro Des Stéphane Taillasson, Ed Célia Lafitedupont, Music Jérôme Rebotier, Costumes Thierry Delettre.
Chapter 2/Pathé/Films/M6 Films/Fargo Films/Logical Content Ventures/Ciné+/Umedia/Canal+-Entertainment Film Distributors.
178 mins. France. 2024. UK Rel: 30 August 2024. Cert. 12A.
