The Count Of Monte Cristo

Taking on the classics is never easy, let alone adapting a book that’s already been translated to the big screen at least 21 times. Indeed, the book itself has been subject to multiple revisions and restructurings, and there’s so much of it that no film could realistically take on the whole thing. Matthieu Delaporte and Alexandre de La Patellière’s version trims down the story substantially, reworks elements that have aged badly and keeps the central themes intact. Though some of its predecessors are impressive, it is perhaps the most impressive version to date.

The film premièred at Cannes and went on to make several high profile festival appearances, as well as becoming the second biggest hit of the year in France. Its combined promise of adventure, romance and costume drama gives it wide appeal, and it manages to deliver at that level without sacrificing artistic depth. This is due in part to excellent casting, but also to the diligence with which Delaporte and de La Patellière have approached every aspect of the production.

The stall is set in the opening scene which sees the young Edmond Dantès (Pierre Niney) plunge into a stormy sea to save a drowning woman. She’s a stranger to him, but in his innocence he’s naturally inclined to heroism. She is not an innocent, however, and his actions make him vulnerable in ways he couldn’t have anticipated. Although he enjoys a surge of good fortune, with improved career prospects and the chance to marry Mercédèes (Anaïs Demoustier), the woman he loves, all this will be taken away from him. Falsely accused and imprisoned in an oubliette (one of several points at which the story intersects with Batman lore), he endures years of torment. When he emerges, he is a very different man, a more powerful but more troubled man, about to embark on an elaborate plan which could deliver justice or the mutually assured destruction of revenge.

The numerous intrigues of the novel are trimmed down here to leave him with just there companions: Jacopo (Abde Maziane), who does nothing but stalk around and scowl; Andrea (Julien de Saint Jean), a young man whose own desire for revenge grows stronger under Dantès’ influence; and Haydée (Anamaria Vartolomei), here no longer a slave but a collaborator, as well as a source of moral challenge. This narrower focus allows Andrea and Haydée more room for character development as the group becomes immersed in multiple forms of intrigue. Seduction, disguise, financial manipulation, political scheming and trading in secrets all have a role to play, but the precision with which Dantès plays his games is complicated by the raw emotions still tearing at his heart.

It all looks beautiful, with magnificent settings, exquisite costume design and great effects work backing up the notion of Dantès as a skilled shapeshifter. Cinematographer Nicolas Balduc is as confident in the shadows of a secret tunnel as the garden of a chateau; his camera captures the bright eyes of young lovers as deftly as the bright flash of a sword. The drama is interspersed with spectacular action set pieces which combine present day technical advantages with the spirit of Forties matinees, and Jérôme Rebotier’s music brings it all together in one flowing melody. This may be an old fashioned kind of cinema, but in the hands of Delaporte and de La Patellière it feels wonderfully alive.