# The Count of Monte Cristo

Francis Steven Mickus

► To cite this version:

Francis Steven Mickus. The Count of Monte Cristo. The Quint, 2024, The Quint, 16 (4), pp.261-267.
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The Count of Monte Cristo: Can Right Be Done?

Alexandre Dumas' classic novel or righteous revenge *The Count of Monte Cristo* was initially published serially in *le Journal de Débat* from 1844 to 1866. The 2014 adaptation is one of its most exciting treatments in film history. No easy task, considering that this is one of the most often produced novels of all time, alongside that other Dumas classic, *The Three Musketeers* (1844). The writing/directing tandem Alexandre de La Patellière et Matthieu Delaporte<fnref n="1" />, after having written the diptych of the latter novel, now bring us this version of the former.

This version is striking in its imagery and its production values, which rival the best that Hollywood can put out. One even wonders if there is not a gentle mocking of such Hollywood blockbusters: the count's (Pierre Niney) house is a disorienting maze of stairways; his makeup room is thoroughly gothic (even architecturally); the prison cells at the Chateau d'If are a little too clean and brightly lit: there are no rats scurrying in the filth (as there is no filth to scurry in). Edmond Dantes, who later becomes the titular count, is locked away in a certain amount of comfort! The Abbé Ferria (Pierfrancesco Favino), the prison mate who crosses his path as he digs his way to freedom, has a cell graced with a table and a cot and seems to have an endless supply of candles to light his path as he digs his tunnels (first alone and then aided by Edmond Dantes) through the walls of the castle. In short, then entire prison sequence stumbles into the Hollywood pitfall of being a bit too lush to be believable.

The film, on the other hand, is also finely observant of the esthetic evolutions over the decades of the film's narrative: clothing styles change, and architecture reflects the various characters' sensibilities. The lawyer Gerard de Villefort (Laurent Laffitte) lives in neo-classical sobriety, whereas the count's mansion is a synthesis of the new architectural styles of the mid-nineteenth century which would eventually become eclectic: an orientalist boudoir, a classical staircase romantic domes in the exterior and of course the gothic basement for his make-up changes. This is a vital part of the film makers' strategy, as one of the advertising stills (which is not taken from the film itself) is a direct quote of Kaspar David Friederich's iconic 1818 painting *The Wanderer Contemplating a Sea of Mist* (now at the Kunsthalle in Hamburg).

What makes the film come alive is how those values are embodied by the actors. Pierre Niney lives the role of Edmond Dantes, pulling all the stops in the various disguises which

<footnote n="1">¹ The two started as a writing team and wrote the stage hit *Le Prénom*, directed by Bernard Murat in 2010. They successfully adapted the play for film in 2012, which they also directed, and continued to work together as a writing team for both stage and film. Their second directorial effort was *Le Meilleur Reste à Venir* in 2019. They wrote the screenplay for the two-part adaptation of the *The Three Musketeers*, directed by Martin Bourboulon in 2023, which lead to *The Count of Monte Cristo* in 2024.</footnote>
become a veritable game of hide-and-seek even with the audience: it takes a few seconds at time to realize that it is the count disguised as an old Italian priest or portly English businessman (in a scene which is a great lampoon of Gérard Depardieu in all his excesses). Niney adds to that a core personality which grows as he shifts as effortlessly from one aspect of his character to the next as from a disguise to the next one, creating a subtle richly layered performance. He goes from the young star-eyed first-mate to a despondent prisoner to the Count in all his glory, with everything being a natural progression in that characterization.

Niney's performance makes it at times difficult for the other actors to keep up, but they do. The best example is Laurent Laffitte, who has already established a film persona of the manipulative, self-centered intellectual, oozing with sophistication—the ultimate villain. He has no personal dislike for Edmond Dantes, but sees him as political threat to his career. This mix of personal detachment and callous inhumanity places him at the head of the group who had plotted to destroy Dantes. Niney's overwhelming performance also plays into the very meaning of the film, and it is the most striking aspect of the relationship this production maintains with its source material. There are complexities about that source material that cannot be explored here. Suffice it to say that alongside the reappraisal of the novel, the number of adaptations generate an film tradition in considering the story of the Count of Monte Cristo that is to a certain degree independent of the original book. Each film takes into account the previous adaptations in considering a new version of the story. Some of the newer versions are more remakes of earlier film versions rather than new reading of the original novel: thus, only a part of that tradition is directly related to the source novel. Dumas' influence in this adaptation is strong, as the writers do seem to infuse in their film aspects of the original which at times disappear in other film adaptations. The film tradition however will also have its say and influence the film makers' narrative choices.

The original novel was a contemporary narrative. Dumas used an over-the-top revenge adventure as a mask to analyze and criticize the era's ambient social, economic and political corruption. There is an eerie similarity between the woes of that world and our own, which are summed up by Anne-Marie Callet-Bianco, when she notes how

*Dumas takes a dry-eyed look at his times and through the prism of Morcef, Danglars and Villefort [the triad who framed Dantes] exposes the failings of the army, finance and justice, the three pillars of a corrupt world. Monte-Cristo the Avenger, who exposes them and triggers a landslide in this microcosm, plays the undeniable role of a recording Angel (15).*
Gérard Gengembre explores the super-hero aspects of Dantes’ characterization, noting how Dumas’ novel influenced Nietzsche in his invention of the concept of the *Übermensch*, or Superman (160).<fnref n="2" /> But the real comparison would be with Batman. Like Batman, Dantes draws his power from his infinite wealth; like the Caped Crusader, he draws his strength from his idealism, one that has a melancholy view of human nature, but that has an unfailing sense that right must be done. While Dantes is the primary victim, he is not the only victim.

Dantes’ role in the film is to overpower his tormentors, by using their own abuses and personality faults against them. The ship Captain-turned-businessman Danglars (Patrick Mille) is tricked into playing the market against the loss of his commercial fleet, and falls into the Count’s hands—who literally ends up owning him. Villefort’s story provides the main thrust of the film’s narrative. Just after having buried his illegitimate infant son alive, the child is saved from the grave. Dantes eventually finds the adolescent and raises him to become his father’s downfall. The film stumbles somewhat on the third story, which is that of Fernand de Morcef (Bastien Bouillon), who is in love with Dantes’ original fiancée Mercedes (Anaïs Desmoustier), as his plot to use his son against him falls through and even the final duel ends in something of a stalemate.

It is by focusing too closely on Dantes’ revenge that the film falls into the trap of the filmic tradition. The great fun of adaptation studies is to quibble about the changes from one medium to the other: simplifications, deletions, expansions: all alter the story. Despite the apparent levity of the attitude and the practice, these variations have their importance in understanding both each work independently as well as the transition from the original to the adaptation. Each viewer is in fact confronted with the tensions between what the author felt was important, what the filmmaker may find important, and what is remembered as important in reading the original novel.

This is why endings are so terribly fragile, as well as terribly problematic, for in changing the ending the filmmaker inevitably changes the original’s intentions and meanings. And it is with the ending that this film tends to conform more to the previous adaptations—which tend to balk when faced with the novel’s end—rather than Dumas’ novel. In the latter, Dantes turns his back on the world, including Mercedes, who, for all her love of Edmond, prefers her comforts and social position and intervenes to save her son. She does so, but at the cost of realizing her feelings. The novel’s revenge is complete. Yet Dumas justifies Dantes’ actions by giving him a “happy” albeit unexpected end. While of course (again like Batman) he

<footnote n="2">² Gengembre quotes in length Antonio Gramaschi for the original idea.</footnote>
will continue to live on the edges of society, he is given a companion worth his salt. The film tradition always feels the need to give Edmond Dantes a comeuppance, as if being imprisoned for fifteen years by three people who have profited from that and continued to exploit and destroy anyone who gets in their way was not enough to allow him to seek revenge personally when society patently fails to do so.

When will right ever be done for Edmond Dantes?

Francis Mickus

## Cited Works

Anselmini, Julie. ""Le Comte de Monte-Cristo', un conte moderne des Mille et une Nuits." *The Conversation*, July 13, 2024. https://theconversation.com/le-comte-de-monte-cristo-un-conte-moderne-des-mille-et-une-nuits-231509. Accessed on August 8, 2024.

Callet-Bianco, Anne-Marie. "De Napoléon à la République: politique et romanesque chez Alexandre Dumas." *Revue Roumaine d'Études Francophone* 3 (2011): 13-22, 15. My translation.

*Le Compte de Monte Cristo*. Directed by Matthieu Delaporte and Alexandre de La Patellière. France/Italy: Pathé/M6 Films/Chapter 2/Fargo Films, 2014.

Gengembre, Gérard. "Le Comte de Monte-Cristo, ou le surhomme, la justice et la loi." *Les Cahiers de la Justice* 1 (2012): 159-69.

## Biographical note

Francis Mickus is completing his doctorate in history at the Université de Paris 1 - Panthéon Sorbonne. His subject is the politics in the imagery of Henry V. He is also a film scholar with an early *maîtrise* on the adaptation of Victor Hugo's *Notre Dame de Paris*, and a Masters on the film representations of Henry V. He has published a number of articles and conference papers on film, film makers, fifteenth century England and Henry V. He has recently edited *A Critical Companion to David Fincher* and is currently editing a volume on William Shakespeare's *The Tempest*.