Let Me Count the Chamberlains: "The Count of Monte Cristo"

The Count of Monte-Cristo.  Dir. David Green.  With Richard Chamberlain, Tony Curtis, Louis Jourdan, and Kate Nelligan.  1975.

I told you there'd be bad puns.

This is the shortest of all the versions I watched at 104 minutes.  The story has been super-condensed, but the movie still ends up being a reasonably faithful translation of the book.

The first part of the novel--the arrival at Marseilles to finding the treasure--is represented perfectly.  In fact, a little too perfectly.  Edmond finds the treasure halfway through the film, which leaves little time for seeing what punishments Edmond crafts against the men for doing this to him.  Nevertheless, Edmond's early life, his time in prison and relationship with Faria, and finding the treasure were great to watch, bringing the novel alive.  I loved the detail about Faria hiding the treasure map in his cross, as well as his line, "Spend this fortune, which God has been hording for you, in good and holy ways."  He knows what Edmond's thinking and tries to deter it by telling Edmond how lucky he is to be receiving this treasure that has been hidden for centuries.  It must by God's will that he have this treasure, so use it for good things!  Edmond's probably thinking instead,  "If God's been hording it for me, then why should I not act as God and punish the wicked?

The first major change comes with the omission of the carnival at Rome.  This change actually does nothing to the narrative fabric of the film.  The Count simply shows up at Danglars' bank to open an account after a scene in which Danglars talks about the new nobleman, giving us a buildup to his first appearance.  With no Carnival at Rome, Monte Cristo walks into Paris by himself instead of being invited after a "coincidence
led him into the life of Albert.  He comes with a purpose instead of accidentally geiting involved in Parisian life after just happening to be around to rescue Albert from bandits, meaning that the conspirators could never suspect that he came to Paris for a reason other than because Albert invited him.  It lessens his control, but on the other hand, it condenses the story in an acceptable way and clear way.

So, how does Chamberlain measure up as the Count?  His transformation from sailor Edmond to wealthy Monte Cristo is impeccable.  He doesn't talk much, has fine manners, knows art, and keeps a chilling silence, which puts Danglars on edge when he comes to open an account.  And we learn all this in one short scene.  His bribing of the telegraph operator keeps in line to his personality: he offers the money and the note, and then says nothing more, letting the man decide while the Count holds out five years' worth of pay.  We don't get to see much of his real allure, but the film grants us less than an hour post-prison escape to get to know him.  We hear more than see the exotic around him.  He is classy, cold, quiet, and has very good aim with a pistol.  He has a fascination with the macabre in talking to Villefort about "an eye for an eye" that lets us know that he's very thirsty for the justice he describes.  His voice is good for a nobleman, and his clothes--black shirt, opera cape, hat--fit his personality and rank.  He reminds me a lot of Kenneth Branagh in Hamlet: they both wear black and have platinum blonde hair.  Edmond has black hair in the book, but white casts the same impression as black here (white also being a color of death and mourning in some parts of the world)--a cold figure who dresses in stark colors and keeps himself aloof.  I give him a definite pass for point 1, though I would have liked to have seen much more of what he did with his money--I'm not quite sure if this guy would carpet a cave, though if he did, you can expect he'd be humble about it.

On a shallow note, I liked how cool he looked when he rode his horse on the surf in his opera cape and hat.

Too many characters are introduced who don't go anywhere.  The Count meets Noirtier, and then the old man is never seen again, the Villefort family subplot having been severely cut back and changed.  Valentine (her personality severely altered) appears in two scenes, but never gets much to do.  This version, like 1934, makes her Albert's girlfriend and she exists here solely as someone for Andrea to court as a way to get into Villefort's family instead of having her own plot thread intertwined with Monte Cristo's.  I don't mind Noirtier's appearance, I only wish that he had appeared again.  The same goes for Valentine.  Andrea tries to court Valentine and take her away from Albert, but this is the last we see of her, never knowing if, in this translation, she ever finds happiness with Albert.  We're just told that Andrea wants to marry Valentine, and the latter's father is appalled to find out that Andrea is not real nobility.  The shorter running time has a lot to do with this.  With more time, this problem would have been solved.

In fact, hardly anyone has many scenes in this cut.  Even the Count himself has little screen time, but what we see of him makes a good impression.  The story is streamlined and heavily condensed, yet still makes sense.  We know who everybody is, whom they're related to, who's insulted by whom, etc.  It's not hard to follow.  It just goes by too quickly, not giving us enough time to appreciate all the trouble the Count had to go to in order to set up this scheme or the agony his enemies go through, nor do we notice tiny events that have huge significance later.  That's one of the joys of reading the long novel: everything takes so long to unfold that we don't realise just what is happening until the end, and upon re-reads, we can follow the plots closely.  Here instead, he does a thing and the payoff is immediate.  This film works as an escapist story, but not as a full experience and exploration of humanity.

The schemes themselves are effective, with the Count humiliating each man appropriately.  Andrea's mother is no longer Hermine Danglars, but another woman who died in childbirth.  With Danglars apparently unmarried for time constraints, this is the best way to further demonstrate Villefort's cruelty: not only did he have an affair, he killed the result of it after the mother died, leaving no trace of what she died to produce on the earth.  What a horrible jerk.  Fernand's final fate is probably just what book Monte Cristo would have wanted to happen had not Fernand taken matters into his own hands.  Once again, the only problem is that there is a scene of setup, then the payoff--hardly enough time to take in the plan and appreciate/despise the man responsible.

The best scenes by far are the ones between the Count and Mercedes, and even though they have only two real scenes together, they convey the sorrowful tone of the book perfectly.  The first is the one that begins with "Edmond, you will not murder my son."  This scene contains much dialogue from the book and is better for it.  He tells her that she is forgiven for marrying Fernand, and that Fernand is forgiven for taking fourteen years of his life, but Fernand is not forgiven for leading Louis Dantes to die of starvation.  True, book Count never forgave Fernand for the prison years, but it's just as effective to say here that his prison time meant nothing so long as his father was taken care of, and the death of his father is a sin he will not forgive.  In having the Count say this, the film does what most adaptations don't.  Edmond is out for revenge, yes, but also for justice as the Avenging Angel.  The duel with Albert happens, which unfolds wonderfully as Monte Cristo is prepared to die as he shoots away from Albert, who also shoots away, knowing that the Count had every right to expose Fernand to the papers.  After the duel, Monte Cristo, like his book counterpart, sees this incident as proof that he should continue in his quest for vengeance, not for only himself, but for his dead dad.  Point 3 fulfilled.

Sadly, point 2 is somewhat missing.  A theme doesn't really seem to be present here.  It's more of a swashbuckling tale of a man's quest for vengeance in the guise of the Avenging Angel.  What nearly makes up for it is the final scene where Mercedes leaves France to go to Africa to support her son.  She rejects Monte Cristo's offer to accompany her to provide support.  Monte Cristo then acknowledges that they were once in love as young people but now cannot be together because of what they've done.  Mercedes agrees and even remarks that Edmond is dead.  And I promptly rejoiced.  The meeting is solemn and full of melancholy.  She wishes him happiness, but not with her.  And how could they live together?  His actions have forced her son into the army to regain his good name, and she feels guilty about marrying and not staying faithful to his memory.  Every note they strike rings true; nothing is sentimental or forced.  This confrontation has come naturally from their experience, providing a fitting conclusion to a story that began with young Edmond and Mercedes hugging on the pier, believing they were in for an innocent marriage.  They end up separated with the knowledge that their correspondence is likely at an end.  This adaptation probably handles the Edmond/Mercedes relationship better than any other.

It is here that the Count admits that his revenge brought him no joy, but we never see it.  What we really needed was a scene or two of the Count in despair over what happened.  When the book's Count realises he's gone too far, he hopes that he can stop the rest and that nothing else that he didn't intend will happen.  Things get out of hand, innocents die, and we lose sympathy for the Count.  We think, "Is this right?  Is it okay for him to tear apart these families, kill people indirectly, and destroy the finances of those who banked with Danglars?"  But here, we root for the Count completely, never doubting that he is right.  Even the threat of killing Albert is off because Albert challenges the Count and is of age.  However, the melancholy of the ending helps atone for this omission.  Revenge on the people who screwed you over still cannot bring back what they screwed out of you.  The two were torn apart by betrayal, but even though they actually could get together legally at the end, emotionally, they are incompatible.  So, even though we see none of what the Count's vengeance has done to him personally, this last scene, with its heart-breaking reality, and wanting to avenge his father more than himself, makes up for it and passes for the novel's theme of revenge bringing a hollow victory. 

With the story being shortened to film-length, we don't get the take the time to see just what lengths the Count will go to for revenge and appreciate how long it took him to set this up and see it paid off, nor do we see the story explore its themes properly.  Maybe this story shouldn't be film-length.  While some subplots could be excised, too many are necessary to the framework and themes, and time itself is what we need to show how manipulative and patient he is.  However, Chamberlain's version works well as an introduction to the book and is good enough on its own to recommend.

Next: 1980's French miniseries Le Comte de Monte-Cristo.

An Ac"count" of Donat: "The Count of Monte Cristo"

The Count of Monte Cristo.  Dir. Rowland V. Lee.  With Robert Donat, Elissa Land, and Sidney Blackmer.  Reliance Pictures, 1934.  Runtime: 110 minutes.

There were several silent versions of Dumas' book before this movie, but this is the first well-known adaptation of the tale.  Many reviewers say that this is the best and most faithful adaptation of the Dumas book.

Having seen six versions, I can't say that I agree on either count.  It's a decent adventure movie that makes sense, but doesn't follow the book at all.

The logic within the film works.  We go from scene to scene knowing exactly who everyone is and what's happening.  The plots, while greatly simplified and altered from the novel, still follow the general principal of Monte Cristo wanting the pasts to catch up to the men.  Fernand's treacherous actions are put in display as a pageant in front of the upper crust of Paris, and he is shamed.  Danglars plays the stock market, not knowing that the Count is controlling it.  Villefort is put on trial for his false imprisonment of Edmond.  Other subplots are also condensed reasonably well.  The time in Rome and Albert's kidnapping are portrayed in about two minutes, if that, and are very clear.  Edmond's time in prison and learnings from Faria are also displayed well, with a montage representing the years spent tunneling and learning.  Other subplots are omitted altogether.  While condensed more than I'd like, the film's story would still make sense to anyone who had never read the book.

(SPOILER WARNING) One thing that really puzzled me was Fernand's suicide.  In the book, he is exposed for the Ali Pasha affair and is disgraced.  He loses his social status and honor.  But, he still has two things left he loves: his wife and son, Mercedes and Albert.  When he comes home and hears that they no longer see his house as their home, and then sees them leaving without looking back, he kills himself out of despair.  The only reason he framed Edmond was so he could marry Mercedes, and her leaving him is the last straw.  Without her, he has no reason to live, as she is the primary reason he did everything he did.  This film has Fernand killing himself the morning after a newspaper article runs the Ali Pasha scandal story.  Thus, the film makes the reason he commits suicide be over losing honor instead of losing Mercedes, which makes him a more shallow person.  The film also does not portray a love between the two.  Fernand makes his false accusation out of love, but we see none of the love he has for her.  The film changes Mercedes from liking Fernand as a brother to marrying him only as a dying wish to her mother.  So, we see no love develop for him from her, but nor do we see him love her or even a deterioration of love between them.  More scenes between the two would have cleared up the status of their relationship.  As it is, Fernand's demise does not have the impact that it should have: a feeling that the Count has triumphed while making us feel sorry for Fernand.

Donat does not make a good Count.  He has the charm and sophistication to entrance the denizens of Paris.  He lacks the youth and naivete that he possessed as Edmond and makes the transition from sailor to aristocrat well.  However, he lacks the darker, icy edge that the Count needs, which is crucial to the theme of the story.  He doesn't seem cruel enough to actually want to carry all this out.  He becomes too loud and accusatory during the courtroom scene (an original to the film).  Dumas' Count would not have acted the way Donat does in that scene--he's too cool and calculating.  I attribute this acting to the acting style of the time, which favored theatrically of this nature (which does not mesh with the 1840s world).  The loud, grand acting also partially messes with the examination scene, where Danglars and Fernand are present to incrimminate Edmond, making their parts too obvious to the audience and to Edmond.  We also miss the exoticism and originality, which is a large part of why the Parisians talk about him so much.  It's not his name or his title, which they know he bought, that catch their attention--it's his wealth and what he does with it, and book Monte Cristo does amazing things with his money.  Donat's Count is shown to carry one million francs on him at all times, but he never spends anything.  We do not see mansions (plural intended) decorated in Turkish style, a Greek princess at his side, or him buying the opera box that belonged to a long-dead royal figure.  I do not believe that Donat's Count carpeted a cave.  He does not revel in the luxury that is characteristic of the Count of Monte Cristo.  Without this show of wealth, it seems less likely that the Parisians would be so taken with him.  He has the charm, but not the sadistic streak or originality, and fails point 1 of my criteria.

Sometimes gut reactions are the best indicators of a thing's quality. (ENDING SPOILER)  When the movie was over, I said aloud, "That wasn't seriously the ending, was it?"  I even looked back at V for Vendetta to verify it, and the same ending was shown there.  Monte Cristo and Mercedes get back together, last shown sitting in a tree lovingly in each others' arms.  Not only does this fly in the face of the novel where the two acknowledge that they have changed so much that they couldn't live together as they might have, but the film does nothing to show us that they are growing towards each other again, which would be the only way to accept that they reunite for the ending.  What could they have in common now?  Monte Cristo has changed from an optimistic sailor to a melancholy count who cares only for avenging himself; Mercedes is stifled by a marriage she didn't want.  They went from saying they would only address each other in the impartial, meaningless etiquette assigned to their classes to sitting together in a tree without anything in between.  The soppiness of it makes me want to vomit.  It's a happy ending for the sake of a happy ending, which doesn't work in any story, much less in a tale of bittersweet revenge.

Which brings me to the next point.  The biggest problem in this film is that it changes the entire theme of Dumas' work from "revenge is hollow and can't ultimately bring you happiness" to "revenge is sweet."  While we may enjoy watching Monte Cristo's enemies get what they have coming, we also know that he's going too far when innocents get dragged into his scheme.  While vengeance is satisfying while it's being carried out, the price paid is too high and the Count is left with remorse for trying to play God.  He sees that there is nothing right about what he's done, pulling up weeds will also pull up wheat, and hate only begets more hate.  His saving Valentine is his way to atone for the sins he has committed.  The movie throws out this theme, changing the story from being about the inability of revenge to provide emotional fulfillment into a simple revenge tale in which the hero triumphs with no regrets.  The complexities of emotion and motivation are gone, replaced with a "revenge is good" message that Dumas did not convey.  Without this essential theme, it is not The Count of Monte Cristo.  It fails the second point of my criteria for a successful Count of Monte Cristo adaptation.

Continuity issues don't always bother me (i.e. a glass moves on a table from shot to shot), but differences in name pronunciation do unless a character purposefully mispronounces a name (like Schillinger from Oz).  The script renders the name Dantes as [dæn-tiz] by nearly everybody.  However, Villefort calls him by the more-or-less correct French pronunciation of [dan-tes].  The incorrect pronunciation bothered me, but at least it could have been consistent.  Why does this bother me and not Japanese-rendered versions of French names?  The Japanese linguistic system is not set up to handle French syllables, and even lacks some French sounds, so alterations must be made, but English has nearly all the sounds and combinations that French has, and English speakers are more than capable of pronouncing the French name "Dantès."  In fact, the Japanese pronunciation of Dantes is much closer to the French than the English one used in this film.

The Count of Monte Cristo from 1934 does work as an adventure story on its own.  It condenses many storylines in an effective way that doesn't make you feel like you got to point C from point A without going through point B.  As an adaptation, however, it's far off the mark, mainly because it alters the characters and reverses the theme.  As well, the makers tried to cram a 1500 page novel into two hours.  This story simply needs more time than allotted to a typical film.

Characters omitted: Andrea Cavalcanti (aka Benedetto), Caderousse, Major Cavalcanti, Eugenie and Hermine Danglars, Heloise and Edward de Villefort, Maximilian Morrel, Bertuccio, Baptistin, Franz, Countess G---, Barrois, Peppino, and all of Edmond's aliases.  It also makes Valentine Albert's girlfriend and greatly minimises Haydee's and Noirtier's roles.

Next time: Richard Chamberlain in the 1975 made-for-TV movie The Count of Monte-Cristo.

Count on Reviews...and a Lot of Bad Puns

One of my favorite novels is The Count of Monte Cristo.  The story has received many adaptations over the years, from silents, to talking motion pictures, to sequels, to television series, to anime, to Wishbone.  After seeing two versions which had varying degrees of faithfulness, I decided to seek out whatever others I could find to see which ones best represent the story, themes, and spirit of the novel.  What follows will be a seven part series on six film and television versions plus a summary of general observations about the adaptations.  I will keep comparisons of film versions to each other to a minimum, except in the final article.  Each film will be reviewed based on its own characteristics and merits, and, more importantly in this set of reviews, its resemblance to the novel in spirit.  I will be publishing the reviews in chronological order of the release date.  Spoilers will abound, mostly unmarked.

When adapting a work of literature, writers can take some liberties.  Some scenes can be cut or combined, characters likewise, and occasionally subplots can also be cut.  The entire time period and setting can be changed, which alludes to the universality of the story--Olivier's, Zeffirelli's, Branagh's, and Almereyda's film versions of that other great revenge story, Hamlet, all take place in different centuries and the story still makes sense.  However, certain characteristics must be retained if the adaptation is to preserve the essence of the book.  The theme of the work is often the major reason why a writer writes a story in the first place.  If certain traits are changed, what made the story unique is gone, and the creators should change the title and names along with the alterations and say "inspired by" instead of "based on."

I believe that the following criteria are necessary to any adaptation of The Count of Monte Cristo, and that film versions should have these traits to some degree for the work to succeed as an adaptation:

1. The Count must be incredibly charismatic, alluring, intelligent, manipulative, and have an sadistic streak.  He is an anti-hero of the highest order.  We have to love him and hate him.  We sympathise with his plight and desire for revenge, but our sympathy stops the moment he drags the innocent children of his enemies into his schemes.  He has the wealth, power, and will to carry out his plans.  He also is an original--he does exotic things that other Parisians don't, and then claims it's nothing. (I.e. he buys several mansions, throws flowers down to a diva on stage, and creates his own hashish/opium pills.  Oh, and he carpeted a cave.)  This flaunting of wealth and exoticism is an important part of his charisma and why Parisians are so attracted to him.
2. Vengeance is bitter, hollow, and ultimately unfulfilling.  Revenge is not sweet.  He punishes his enemies but cannot get back what they stole from him.
3. The Count seeks justice, not simply revenge.  He is the Avenging Angel who repays the evil of Edmond's imprisonment, Louis' death, Haydee's slavery, and the evil that happened to the other people who have been exploited so that Fernand, Danglars, and Villefort could succeed.  He acts as Providence's tool, which makes him also reward the good.
4. The revenge schemes must be based on the vices and pasts of each of the three conspirators.  Each one does himself in when his past comes back to bite him.
5. This is not a feel-good swashbuckling adventure tale.  It is a bittersweet revenge Romance.  However, this does not mean that you can't add a well-placed sword duel.

Points 1 and 2 are the most important to represent the spirit and theme of the novel.  The others can have more leeway, but 1 and 2 should be intact.  I will refer back to these in my reviews.

Enjoy.