A brave sailor, Edmond Dantès sees his life turned upside down when vile rivals have him wrongly convicted of treason. With the help of a fellow prisoner who reveals the location of a treasure, Dantès manages to escape after ten years of secret labor. Free and rich, Dantès disappears into the wild before resurfacing a few years later under the name of the Count of Monte Cristo, ready to take revenge on the crooks who had him imprisoned. Buoyed by the success of their two-part adaptation of the novel The Three Musketeersthe same artisans tackled another classic by Alexandre Dumas.
Impressed by their scenarios for The Three Musketeers – D’Artagnan And The Three Musketeers – Miladyproducer Dimitri Rassam not only entrusted Alexandre de La Patellière and Matthieu Delaporte with the mandate to write that of Count of Monte Cristohe also put them in charge of the production. They therefore succeed Martin Bourboulon, whom they do not try to imitate.
So, after great technical bursts in phase with incredible adventures, there is room for a more measured movement, in sync with what Dantès releases and foments. The result is pleasing. As proof, in France, the film has so far accumulated nearly six million admissions.
Once again, de La Patellière and Delaporte were not afraid to prune entire sections of the original story. Characters disappeared, others were merged, or even invented. All in the service of a more cohesive and cinematic narrative, less soap opera-like, a form more suited to the miniseries format.
In this regard, we are grateful to producer Dimitri Rassam for having resisted the temptation to repeat the formula of the diptych favoured, with success, for The Three Musketeers. Making two films out of this latest novel worked well given the choral nature of the story, which features multiple protagonists and missions (or “quests,” to use a screenwriting term 101). The Count of Monte Cristoas the title states, has only one real protagonist. Which protagonist in turn has only one goal: revenge.
In short, treating this story in one film rather than two was the right decision – even if said film lasts nearly three hours. Far from being drawn out, the adaptation manages to captivate from start to finish by skillfully alternating backstage games, plot twists and large-scale sequences.
If the diptych of Three Musketeers was counting on action in order to impress, The Count of Monte Cristo rather develops its epic breath through sustained tension. Where The Three Musketeers willingly deployed outside, The Count of Monte Cristo often confines himself indoors, on purpose, since it is in the privacy of his luxurious lair that the hero (or antihero?) plots his plot.
Same old story for Nicolas Bolduc
In the title role, Pierre Niney proves to be excellent: for the star of Black box and of Masqueradeit is almost a counter-type. Playing with interiority, Niney exudes a dull anger and a chilling determination. In a judicious bias that not everyone would necessarily have assumed in his place, the actor never tries to make Dantès sympathetic. His ultimate awareness is all the more powerful.
It should be noted, however, that Niney is supported in his composition by Quebec director of photography Nicolas Bolduc, also a veteran of Three Musketeers (nominated for the Césars, to boot). At the beginning, Dantès is in full light; a dense, solar light. But as soon as he reappears as Monte Cristo, Bolduc keeps the protagonist in a cold half-light, willingly veiling his face with significant chiaroscuro. In that the mystification elaborated by Dantès is based on dissimulation: the mask he wears permanently is its physical incarnation, while Nicolas Bolduc’s lighting constitutes its symbolic representation.
It should be noted that, in the same way that Alexandre de La Patellière and Matthieu Delaporte distinguish themselves from their predecessor Martin Bourboulon, Nicolas Bolduc does not take up the palette, both earthy and ethereal, of Three Musketeers. On the contrary, this time it is about opulent colors, all shades of blue, turquoise and ochre: it is Guillermo Del Toro’s chromatic playground, and it seduces the eye in every shot (there was a beginning of that in Milady). Hat.
Credible Antagonist
Coming back to the acting, it is overall top-notch, particularly that of Laurent Lafitte, in the role of the prosecutor of Villefort. The character being monstrous, Lafitte does less where others would have done too much. Which gives a credible antagonist, and not a caricature of a villain.
Moreover, the opposition between Dantès and Villefort is one of the most interesting aspects of the film. Indeed, during a reworked prologue, Dantès’ uprightness and nobility of character are reinforced, making his subsequent debasement, in the name of an increasingly dubious personal justice, fascinating.
In short, if Dantès completes his revenge, it will be at the cost of his humanity. And he will then be little better than his enemy. With that in mind, the bittersweet resolution is truly satisfying. As is the rest of the adaptation.