Down for the Count: 1998's "Le Comte de Monte Cristo"

Le Comte de Monte Cristo.  Dir. Josee Dayan.  With Gerard Depardieu, Ornella Muti, and Jean Rochefort.  Cite Films, 1998.  Runtime: 7  hrs.

This is the second of three television series I'll review and the second and last French version.  Gerard Depardieu is the title character, wrongly imprisoned for years before he busts out and discovers a treasure that he can use to get revenge on his enemies.  In some ways, it would seem like this is the perfect adaptation.  However, in all the essential areas, and even in looking at the film narrative on its own, this translation is sorely lacking.

This one begins many years in Dantes' imprisonment, which is an interesting choice.  For some reason, he has groomed hair.  In regards to the prison time, this series actually has the opposite problem of film adaptations.  In shorter versions, the tendency is to take up 1/3 to 1/2 of the film, or about 45 minutes, with prison.  In a seven-hour miniseries, 45 minutes would be the perfect amount of time to spend in prison, as we still have six more hours to spend on the real meat of the story and prison would be in the right proportion to the rest of the story.  Edmond breaks out about 15 minutes into the series.  No joke.  In the one format where prison time could be extended, it's severely shortened, and the show suffers for it.  We see no relationship with Faria, no teachings, no real digging, and little despair.  Oddly, I don't remember learning exactly why Danglars betrayed him.

Probably the biggest flaw of this series is the title character and Depardieu's portrayal of him.  There's nothing wrong with his acting.  The problem is that he doesn't act the part of the Count of Monte Cristo.  He does not fit into his disguises very well, either physically or in character.  When Jacques Weber does it in 1980's series, he completely disappears into every persona, Busoni being completely unrecognizable as the Count, Sinbad, or Wilmore in looks, voice, and personality.  Depardieu uses more or less the same voice and personality for every persona.  His Busoni is just as forceful as his Count.  He is shown trying out various disguises and voices, but that's the only point in his favor.  He's serviceable in his alter-egos, not amazing, and I'm surprised that nobody noticed that Busoni and the Count looked alike.  Weber pulls it off; Depardieu doesn't.

But all of that could be pushed aside if it weren't for the bigger problem: I could not see him as the Count.  When I was making my notes, it didn't feel right to call him Monte Cristo or to think of him as Monte Cristo because he is so far off the mark from the character.  He seems too warm, happy, down-to-earth, and too much like a normal person.  But the Count is not normal, and he's almost not even human.  When he attends an execution in Rome in the book, he smiles in satisfaction, finding the whole idea of human punishment fascinating, and tells Albert and Franz about different methods around the world.  Here, he finds the whole idea vile and smiles when the prisoner is released.  He's also supposed to be so sophisticated that he's above society.  The series shows Bertuccio teaching the Count fine manners.  I liked the idea--no version so far has shown us exactly what Edmond did in the years between escape and revenge to create his persona as the Count, and to have it shown would be an interesting sequence.  However, the teachings come after the Count has come back to society.  They are presented almost as a crash-course in etiquette before he goes off to meet Albert in Paris.  So, Edmond has come back for revenge without having set himself up as a cultured nobleman or studied manners and culture for years.  Considering that the Count is manipulative and seeks to control all events, that doesn't seem right.  He should be aloof and cold, not warm and in-your-face as he is presented here.  Much of his wardrobe also seems out of place, with blonde hair and pastel colors that brighten him up too much.  Clothes and colors are important, and these give us a pleasant view of a man who should be an anti-hero we grow to dislike.  He gets points for exoticism in employing servants from Africa and Asia and keeping them in their native garb, but that's it.  He is not the Count, one of the most fascinating characters in stories.  Cave-carpeter or not, I cannot give him a pass for point 1 (preserving the Count's character).  You can cut subplots in adaptations, but don't mess with the engaging characters that we liked from the book.

This miniseries also makes a grave misstep by giving us a brand-new character: Camille, a poor widow whom Bertuccio finds so that the Count will have someone to go somewhere with.  Unlike the 2004 version that neatly inserts a new supporting character (or rather, a building on a minor character from the book) into the periphery and fits him/her into the the fabric of the story, Camille is thrust into the foreground and events are altered around her.  She lives at Auteuil, she makes Mercedes feel jealous of Edmond's attention, she doesn't like Haydee's arrival, etc.  The Count says that he wants a women to been seen with at the opera and about town.  But he already had a woman to be seen with--Haydee, who doesn't even show up here until 3/4 of the way through.  Not only was Haydee a woman, she was a Greek princess who propped up the Count's love of the exotic.  He calls her a slave that he purchased in Constantinople, but of course she isn't really; he frees her in France, but he puts up the appearance of a mistress so that he'll have an excuse not to get involved with women.  What we get with Camille is a love triangle that detracts from the overall experience by adding romance where none was ever needed.  Superfluous characters who exist only to add a romance angle have no business in a story about revenge and its all-encompassing effects.  The original novel has a lot going on in it.  A fluffy love story dilutes the effects of the original themes and turns the story from "how does revenge affect the soul" to a simpler "which woman will he end up with?"

Camille brings up a point I've never seen an adaptation do: question what the Count of Monte Cristo's first name is.  He must have one, but in the aristocracy, first name use is rare.  She decides to give him a name to use in private.  Guess what it is.  Go on, guess.  What would be the sappiest, most ironic name for her to give him?  That's right: Edmond.  How silly.  Mercedes also gives him the same name while they're out rowing on a river.  At least hers is excusable because she's thinking of the man she really loved, but it's too cloyingly sentimental for two women to give him the name that is also his own.  Had Depardieu played closer to the character, he would have refused to let them address him by a first name at all: he would insist on the continued use of "M. le Comte."  That would allow for a great deal more distance from everybody, as book Count keeps his distance from his own humanity to accomplish his goals.

Camille isn't the only character to give the story problems.  The writers also make this translation problematic with their version of the princess Haydee.  Haydee...oh my gosh, what do they keep doing to you?  You never seem to catch a break in films.  She appears in two scenes: the scene where she's brought to Paris (and hidden until the trial!), and the trial.  In the book, she at first appears to be a wall hanging but turns out to be instrumental to bringing down Fernand.  She also loves Monte Cristo, refuses to leave him when he frees her, and gives him a reason to live at the end of the story.  He feels that he has nothing left to live for, but she tells him of her love and he thinks that maybe they could have a happy life together.  No guarantees, just a possibility.  He tells everyone in Paris that he doesn't need a mistress--he has something better, a slave he bought in Constantinople.  Of course, she isn't a slave, but it's the act they put on.  She's in plain sight all the time and is free to do whatever she wants but holds the key to his revenge. She's a much better person for the story than the fluffy Camille.

Now comes maybe the worst part of Haydee's inclusion: in a scene near the end, the Count tells Camille that Franz and Haydee have fallen in love and are planning marriage.

Writer 1: "Hm, we have this character who was important in the novel, but we cut her out most of her part so we could add Camille.  What should we do with her?"
Writer 2: "I know!  Let's match her with another character whose part also got trimmed down to two scenes!  The Count and Mercedes get matched up, why not these two other characters?"
Writer 1: "Great idea!  And we'll do it off-screen, too, so we don't have to waste any more time on it!"

It was completely irresponsible of the writers to match up two characters just for the sake of matching up two characters.  Neither one of them have much to do in this version of the story; all Haydee does is reveal Fernand.  Franz is talked about for two episodes, finally appears, and refuses to marry Valentine after hearing the truth about his father's death.  Matching them together off-screen does absolutely nothing for the story.  It's degrading to do this to two characters who never meet for no story reason, and smacks of poor writing.  Will poor Haydee ever get a chance to shine?

The Max/Valentine subplot is given free reign here.  They meet in secret, Villefort disapproves, the poisoning happens, and they eventually get to meet at the Count's house, where Max expects to commit suicide.  I felt very little emotionally during the entire seven hours, but when I saw the scene where Max comes into the room where he expects to die and sees Valentine instead, I felt genuinely happy for the two of them.  Unlike in the novel, however, where the success of their relationship is directly tied to the Count regaining his humanity, Depardieu says he will help Max because "I like Max, he likes Valentine, therefore I like Valentine."  This is present in the book, where there is also the added idea of the Count helping them and giving them his fortune to try to atone for the sins he's committed in playing God.  Still, the series brings their conflict to life vividly.

On the other hand, Andrea gets completely sidelined.  A modified version of him appears who is called Toussaint.  It's revealed early that Villefort is his father.  There is no Andrea Cavalcanti/Benedetto character or subplot.  Monte Cristo tells his guests the story at Auteuil about the baby who was born and buried alive, but that baby, Andrea, never appears and gets into the fabric of society.  He never gets found out and doesn't expose Villefort, which was the whole point of putting Andrea in the story in the first place.  If the creators had planned on not having Andrea reveal Villefort publicly, they should have cut him out.  They could keep the new character they created, but should limit his role to killing Caderousse, and then take out all references to the child altogether.  What we get with Toussaint is a lot of setup but no payoff.  He just vanishes from the story and Mme. Danglars is left wondering whatever happened to her son after she reveals to her husband that it's probably his fault they never had children (sorry, Eugenie--I guess the scriptwriters didn't care about you either).  Introducing a character, setting up his subplot for a revelation, and then neglecting to show that revelation is a prime example of poor writing.

This series does a great disservice to the story by integrating more romance and giving it a happy ending.  There is a possibility that the Count and Haydee will have a happy life together after the end of the book, but it's only a chance, not a certainty.  This series devotes too much time to giving the Count a love life or the appearance of a love life that was never there before.  TCoMC is not a love story.  In the last scene, Edmond writes on a note, "Edmond Dantes has returned."  However, the point in the novel was that Edmond could not return.  The good parts of him died in prison.  He has changed beyond recognition into a cynical, bitter man.  Edmond then meets Mercedes on a beach; they smile, run into the water, and kiss (blech).  They both also say they've given away their money to live simpler lives, and now they can live the poor, happy life they always wanted to have.  That's just precious.  But that's not the theme of the novel.  The novel's got a lot of things to say about revenge, but learning to love isn't one of them.  Betrayal tore them apart in such ways that they both irrevocably changed.  They can't get their old selves back, and that's what strikes a chord with the audience.  There are everlasting, extensive effects to betrayal and revenge.  He can't love her because she didn't wait for him and he's become cynical; she can't love him because she married someone else and he discredited her husband.  This series damages itself by tossing out these ideas and replacing them with a scene where Mercedes suddenly is happy to see Edmond again and they resolve to live together, with no transition scenes in between to explain the change: Camille just tells him to go to Mercedes and love her.  If you want to make a story where a hero gets revenge and gradually comes to appreciate his old love, then do it, but don't pass it off as The Count of Monte Cristo.

In this version, nothing stops him from feeling good about his revenge.  Nothing terrible happens to show him that he should never have assumed the role of God.  Once he gets his revenge, he tells Danglars that he will be merciful in letting him go, but "I feel mercy is less fulfilling than vengeance."  This is the exact opposite of what the novel conveys.  I always got the feeling that the Count intended to starve Danglars out of all of his money before releasing him (or letting him die of starvation if he were so pig-headed that he wouldn't pay for food to save his life).  After Edward's death, he revises his plan a little and lets him keep 50,000 francs.  Here, nothing stops him from complete and total revenge, and he learns nothing.  He comes to the conclusion that revenge is more satisfying than forgiveness, which contradicts the novel's main theme and lessens the impact of the story.  The Count of Monte Cristo as a book lasts in part because of what it has to say about revenge: it's hollow and won't fix what you've lost.  This 1998 series says the opposite, and fails utterly as an adaptation.  Edmond learns nothing but how good revenge feels.  In one scene, he breaks into a church and tells the priest that he intends to replace God (in dishing out justice).  That's a proud claim, one that is shattered in the novel but held as sacred here.  It turns into another revenge tale about a hero who justly punishes the wicked with no consequences.

The odd thing about it is that his revenge is too merciful, even though he claims to not like mercy.  He's much more of a hero than an anti-hero.  He's not ruthless enough in dishing out retribution.  (SPOILERS) He offs Villefort's family without caring, but doesn't drudge up Andrea to complete the deal, and seeing how the Andrea character was basically present, there is no excuse for not including this payoff.  He doesn't make Danglars feel how peasants feel: people charging you outrageous sums of money for small things--he just imprisons him, tells him that food will cost money, then immediately takes all him money and lets him go.  Villefort's is even less acceptable.  He tells his wife to kill herself to save face.  That's all fine.  He then makes her do it in his presence.  That's too macabre for his character.  1980 does it right: Villefort comes home, after realising that he does care about his family and that he's told his wife to kill herself, to stop her; she waits until he enters the room, then swallows the poison in front of him and falls down dead.  Having lost the rest of his family, his pride, and position as procureur du roi, this hits him hard.  1998's Villefort doesn't seem upset when Valentine dies.  He says he would never let his daughter be executed, but he doesn't act that way when she dies.  In short, it doesn't seem like the Count punished him that much, stopping at giving him the appearance that his daughter is dead.  Sorry, that's not good enough.  It is his actions towards Villefort that ultimately make him see the wrongs he's committed in taking justice into his own hands.  This Count also does not let his enemies guess who he is before he reveals himself.  In each of the cases, he merely tells them at the offset that he was Edmond Dantes, obliterating any suspense.  He doesn't play with them or give them clues to make them guess who he is.  They've forgotten him and he wants to make them feel worse about it by making them guess his true identity before he finally reveals it.  Yes, this Count is too kind.

Do I have anything else good to say?  Well, the costumes are good.  The plots against the three men are also represented very well (except for Villefort), coinciding with point 4.  Edmond repays the good before going on a "rampage of revenge."  So rarely do screen versions include this phase of his life that it was refreshing to see it.  Most adaptations focus solely on revenge and forget that the Count, in taking Providence's stead, also rewards the good.  The Count does indeed disguise himself as Wilmore and, as Julie has been omitted, has an old woman whom he met in Marseilles give Maximilien the money just before Morrel tries to kill himself.  And in this version, Wilmore comes in for the debts instead of buying them out, so he gets to witness firsthand the happiness he's brought.  So much happiness, in fact, that it kills poor Morrel.  This subplot is the only place where I'd say this series improves upon the 1980 miniseries.  The bankruptcy subplot takes two scenes, but they are long scenes separated by other scenes, creating suspense, which I felt 1980 lacked.

The costumes are good, some of the acting is good, and the subplots involving anyone named "Morrel" were done well, but this series isn't good, not even judged on its own.  The writing is very poor, the pacing was off, and the characters were mostly badly done for the most part.  The themes and characters are changed too much, and those things are what make the novel so memorable.

Next up: James Caviezel in the most recent American film production, 2002's The Count of Monte Cristo.