In the early Edo period, a cruel lord stages a tournament of eleven death matches between twenty-two samurai. One of his vassals begs him to let the samurai fight with wooden swords to show their worth, as otherwise the only thing they will get is eleven dead samurai and a floor covered with intestines, but the lord refuses and begins the tournament. The first two combatants are a blind ronin and a one-armed samurai. It turns out that they have a history together, and the rest of the show fills in some of that history.
Technical details: the show looks gorgeous, with photorealistic characters, chiaroscuro galore, and a very limited color palette (mostly black, white, grey, and red) to complement the bleak story. It's by Studio Madhouse, the same one that brought us the also gorgeous Death Note, Paranoia Agent, Claymore, Boogiepop Phantom, and Texhnolyze, so that should give you an idea of the art you'll see. Since this is a very Japanese show about sword technique, I recommend the Japanese dub, since the actors in English are going to bandy around a lot of Japanese terms anyway.
Shigurui: Death Frenzy is a deconstruction of the romantic samurai film. The show deals with the darker side of the samurai way, bringing up the harsher side of things like honor, proving your strength with the sword, succession, marriage, betrayal, apprenticeship, and the consequences of your actions. The hallmark of the Kogan style showcased in the series is giving the opponent a new look, like cutting off an ear or nose. Hardly the type of idyllic lifestyle depicted in Seven Samurai, The Hidden Fortress, or even the also deconstructive, but much more fun to watch, Rurouni Kenshin, where warriors strive to protect the weak (and keep those dojos clean). Shigurui makes you think, "Why would anyone want to become a samurai at all?" The lifestyle is completely devoted to sword fighting, innocent people may die so that the samurai can show the world they got revenge for the death of an apprentice while they look for the real killer, and the Kogan master, who does unseemly things to his daughter, is demented for most of the year and looks like he's a corpse in the third stage of decay. Oh, and then there's the inherent violence.
This show is violent. Violent violent violent violent violent violent violent violent. Perhaps the most violent animation you'll ever see. Or maybe just the most violent thing you'll ever see. In twelve episodes, you'll see a lot of things that you never wanted to see, thing you never realised someone thought up, and things you never realised were even possible. The show doesn't trivialise its excessive gore, however--the violence looks real and has plenty of consequences for all involved. Like Texhnolyze, when someone is sliced with a sword, it matters. The characters feel it, get bloody, and go into shock. The wounds may even alter their lives. The sword fights resemble actual sword fights, which are often over after a few slashes. It's refreshing to see gore actually mean something instead of being there to excite the audience on a base level. While unpleasant to watch, the violence is necessary to fully appreciate the darker side of the samurai. Only watch this show if you've got an iron stomach. You know, the kind of person who can watch Goodfellas while eating spaghetti. Warning: don't eat Cherrios while watching episode 6. Or anything else small and crunchy.
With harshness like this, a story better have some interesting, sympathetic characters so that you'll care when bad things happen to them. But Shigurui doesn't. There is nothing pleasant about any of these people. You know you're in trouble when the only person you can pick out as the "hero" is the person who won't rape a girl when offered the chance. Having only wicked, despicable characters can work--gangster films do it all the time because the characters are fun to be around in some way. That doesn't happen here. There's no one to root for, no one likeable, no one whom you'd invite to a party. Though the show's only twelve episodes long, this lack of sympathetic characters poses a real challenge to sitting all the way through it.
The series also never comes back to its framing device of the death matches, which is odd, considering that the original manga does. Nor do we see how one of the samurai lost his arm. I've read the manga summary, and it looks interesting and quite tragic. Too bad it didn't appear in the series, which could easily have been longer.
Shigurui is worth watching if you want to see the samurai period film broken into tiny pieces, but it does have a few serious flaws that keep it from being the masterpiece it really could have been. I recommend watching these episodes alternating with season one or two of Rurouni Kenshin--Shigurui will be an antidote to Kenshin's shonen-style violence where you can take hit after deadly hit and never even pass out, and Kenshin will cheer you up after Shigurui's bleak bleakness.
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Book Review: "Ashfall"
Ashfall by Mike Mullin depicts the Earth after the supervolcano beneath Yellowstone erupts and turns the world into a dead wasteland. This book is so frightening because it presents an entirely realistic, plausible scenario that could happen at any time and there'd be nothing we could do about it. The book's epigraph says as much. Our civilisation--computers, civilised medicine, clean running water, all of our art, even our species--could vanish instantly, and possibly never return, because of a natural event.
Ashfall never goes into lots of detail about the catastrophe, but the fewer details work in its favor. We never forget that the sun no longer rises or that it is nigh impossible to do something as simple as walking because the ashen rain has the consistency of cement, making each footstep exhausting and time-consuming. Even the action of breathing is deadly, requiring characters to take precautions when venturing outside.
The characters are entirely believable--they make near-deadly mistakes, they have great resourcefulness, they don't give up even when they know the world may never return to what they know as normal. Alex and Darla, the leads, are so well-done that when the obligated love develops between them, it doesn't feel forced. They are careful about their intimacy because Darla can't afford to get pregnant at this time and they can't find pills or condoms. As well, when they say they sleep together, they mean they sleep together--they want to wake up able to reach out and touch the other person to know they both are safe. Another character doesn't understand it, showing how much a euphemism can come to be the only meaning we understand for something. Sleeping together doesn't always mean sex--it can mean "sleeping together." It was a nice variation on the typical teen love story.
The only major pitfall I see in Ashfall is the inclusion of a villain. In stories like these, the protagonists often come across hostile people, but in the capacity of one-shot obstructions, not long-running antagonists, which this book has in the first half. The environment is the "enemy" in this story: the cold, ash, and lack of food. No human can match that intensity. A story like this doesn't need a villain, especially one that does something so incredibly stupid as what he does as his last act in the book. Nobody would do something that idiotic for the sake of vengeance in this new, harsh world. He would want to use everything he came upon and destroy nothing that could be of use to him. Though the one question I always have about some of these apocalyptic scenarios: would people really turn to violent theft and cannibalism so quickly after a wide-spread devastating event?
If you like apocalyptic fiction in the vein of Threads and Swan Song, you should check out Ashfall. It's a quick but painful read. I look forward to the sequel, Ashen Winter.
Ashfall never goes into lots of detail about the catastrophe, but the fewer details work in its favor. We never forget that the sun no longer rises or that it is nigh impossible to do something as simple as walking because the ashen rain has the consistency of cement, making each footstep exhausting and time-consuming. Even the action of breathing is deadly, requiring characters to take precautions when venturing outside.
The characters are entirely believable--they make near-deadly mistakes, they have great resourcefulness, they don't give up even when they know the world may never return to what they know as normal. Alex and Darla, the leads, are so well-done that when the obligated love develops between them, it doesn't feel forced. They are careful about their intimacy because Darla can't afford to get pregnant at this time and they can't find pills or condoms. As well, when they say they sleep together, they mean they sleep together--they want to wake up able to reach out and touch the other person to know they both are safe. Another character doesn't understand it, showing how much a euphemism can come to be the only meaning we understand for something. Sleeping together doesn't always mean sex--it can mean "sleeping together." It was a nice variation on the typical teen love story.
The only major pitfall I see in Ashfall is the inclusion of a villain. In stories like these, the protagonists often come across hostile people, but in the capacity of one-shot obstructions, not long-running antagonists, which this book has in the first half. The environment is the "enemy" in this story: the cold, ash, and lack of food. No human can match that intensity. A story like this doesn't need a villain, especially one that does something so incredibly stupid as what he does as his last act in the book. Nobody would do something that idiotic for the sake of vengeance in this new, harsh world. He would want to use everything he came upon and destroy nothing that could be of use to him. Though the one question I always have about some of these apocalyptic scenarios: would people really turn to violent theft and cannibalism so quickly after a wide-spread devastating event?
If you like apocalyptic fiction in the vein of Threads and Swan Song, you should check out Ashfall. It's a quick but painful read. I look forward to the sequel, Ashen Winter.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Television Censors are Morons
I'm not talking about editing Casino or Goodfellas so that tense scenes become comedy with all the profanity bleeped out ("Freak you Sam Rothstein, freak you!"). I'm talking about content edits that call into question the morality of the censors. I present two exhibits for your approval:
#1: The Godfather on Spike TV. When I watched this film, it was advertised as "unedited." And for the most part, it was: all the violence and profanity was present. Except for one thing. On Michael and Apollonia's wedding night, right as she's taking off her shirt, the TV blurs her breasts out.
So let me tell you what the network has just told us: you can show two men being slowly strangled, a man being shot in the eye, a man being riddled with two hundred bullets, a guy shooting two other guys in the head, many persons being killed in gruesome manners at the same time as a baptism, a man beating his pregnant wife, and a man waking up with a bloody severed horse's head in his bed, but you can't show a woman taking off her shirt in front of her husband. So, are woman's breasts the most evil thing we can see? Gosh, I don't know how they expect 51% of the population to go their whole lives without looking down. It's ridiculous. Everybody's nude sometimes, and it's perfectly harmless and natural, but not everyone partakes in violence, which is damaging for reasons I hope I don't have to lay out. Would they rather people strangled others instead of seeing others nude? I think Spike needs to set its priorities straight.
But even better is #2: Apocalypse Now Redux on Bravo. You know, some films just shouldn't be on cable. I knew it would be butchered like the cow in that film, so I watched parts of it just to see how bad it got. Every single profanity, mild and strong, was gone, as was the nudity. Then, right at the end, Marlon Brando says, "We train young men to drop fire on people, but their commanders won't allow them to write 'fuck' on their airplanes because it's obscene." Of course, Bravo edited out the word you'd think they'd edit out, even though in this context, it's not even swearing: it's merely stating a word. They then proceed to show the rest of the scene uncut--Brando being hacked to death by Martin Sheen, and a real water buffalo being slaughtered by a real tribe for their real ritual. Unstaged violence, real carnage. When it was over, Bravo started it again and showed Martin Sheen punching the mirror unedited. Real blood, people.
Thank you very much, Bravo. You just proved Kurtz's point.
#1: The Godfather on Spike TV. When I watched this film, it was advertised as "unedited." And for the most part, it was: all the violence and profanity was present. Except for one thing. On Michael and Apollonia's wedding night, right as she's taking off her shirt, the TV blurs her breasts out.
So let me tell you what the network has just told us: you can show two men being slowly strangled, a man being shot in the eye, a man being riddled with two hundred bullets, a guy shooting two other guys in the head, many persons being killed in gruesome manners at the same time as a baptism, a man beating his pregnant wife, and a man waking up with a bloody severed horse's head in his bed, but you can't show a woman taking off her shirt in front of her husband. So, are woman's breasts the most evil thing we can see? Gosh, I don't know how they expect 51% of the population to go their whole lives without looking down. It's ridiculous. Everybody's nude sometimes, and it's perfectly harmless and natural, but not everyone partakes in violence, which is damaging for reasons I hope I don't have to lay out. Would they rather people strangled others instead of seeing others nude? I think Spike needs to set its priorities straight.
But even better is #2: Apocalypse Now Redux on Bravo. You know, some films just shouldn't be on cable. I knew it would be butchered like the cow in that film, so I watched parts of it just to see how bad it got. Every single profanity, mild and strong, was gone, as was the nudity. Then, right at the end, Marlon Brando says, "We train young men to drop fire on people, but their commanders won't allow them to write 'fuck' on their airplanes because it's obscene." Of course, Bravo edited out the word you'd think they'd edit out, even though in this context, it's not even swearing: it's merely stating a word. They then proceed to show the rest of the scene uncut--Brando being hacked to death by Martin Sheen, and a real water buffalo being slaughtered by a real tribe for their real ritual. Unstaged violence, real carnage. When it was over, Bravo started it again and showed Martin Sheen punching the mirror unedited. Real blood, people.
Thank you very much, Bravo. You just proved Kurtz's point.
Friday, March 11, 2011
The All-Chicken Channel
Canada will launch the All-Chicken Channel--24 hours a day of chicken roasting. Whoever thought of it, thinking that viewers would want to watch chicken roasting all day, and anyone who would want to watch chicken roasting all day instead of reading, quilting, fishing, dancing, playing music, gardening, target practicing, or just working, seriously needs a new hobby.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Comparing Film and Television Adaptations of "The Count of Monte Cristo"
Going through six film and television versions of the novel, I noticed many similarities between them and consistant differences between the adaptations and the book. Here are some general observations and comparisons I made about the six film and television versions of The Count of Monte Cristo that I saw. Some are inconsequential details while others are essential to the story's success or lack thereof. All movies and series will be referred to by their year, except the 2004-05 series, which I will call the anime. The three films (1934, 1975, 2002) are American productions; the miniseries are French; the anime is Japanese.
Celluloid used:
The Count of Monte Cristo. Dir. Rowland V. Lee. With Robert Donat, Elissa Land, and Sidney Blackmer. Reliance Pictures, 1934. Film
The Count of Monte-Cristo. Dir. David Green. With Richard Chamberlain, Tony Curtis, Louis Jourdan, and Kate Nelligan. 1975. Made-for-TV movie
Le Comte de Monte-Cristo. Dir. Denys de La Patelliere. With Jacques Weber, Manuel Tajeda, and Carla Romanelli. 1980. Miniseries
Le Comte de Monte Cristo. Dir. Josee Dayan. With Gerard Depardieu, Ornella Muti, and Jean Rochefort. Cite Films, 1998. Miniseries
The Count of Monte Cristo. Dir. Kevin Reynolds. With James Caviezel, Guy Pierce, and Dagmara Dominczyk. Spyglass Entertainment, 2002. Film
Gankutsuou. Dir. Mahiro Maeda. Studio Gonzo, 2004-2005. Series
Comparisons between the Versions
The 2002, anime, and possibly 1998 versions make Edmond and Fernand friends instead of two men who met once briefly.
The 1934 and 2002 versions make it quite clear that the Count orchestrated Albert's kidnapping. This is a very acceptable change because planning the kidnapping is something the Count of the book would do, considering his manipulative and all-knowing nature. He would want to make absolutely sure that he could get into the lives of his enemies in a heroic way. Both of these films also make Faria die in a tunnel collapse.
The three series contain all or nearly all of the characters. The film versions cut many characters. That's to be expected with the shorter running times.
Every single version except 1998 includes a sword duel between the Count and Fernand that was not present in the novel. Only the 2002 version has Monte Cristo kill Fernand in said duel.
1934, 1975, 1998, 2002, and anime have the prison inform Mercedes of Edmond's "execution" or "death" shortly after his arrival.
The reason why Fernand doesn't just kill Edmond himself in the book is because Mercedes says that she will kill herself if Edmond dies, and Fernand knows she means it. So, the problem is to get rid of Edmond without killing him, leading him and Danglars to write the letter. Some adaptations remove the element of Mercedes' death promise, but with that gone and no other explanation given, there is no reason why Fernand can't just off Edmond. It's a tiny detail, but an essential one to understanding why Edmond is sent to prison at all instead of having himself an accident. After all, sending him to prison leaves the slight possibility that he will escape or be released one day, a chance Fernand and Danglars wouldn't want to take. The 2002 film has an excuse: the two are friends, though Fernand is intensely jealous of Edmond. Fernand might not want to kill Edmond on account of their friendship. The anime also works, as Fernand actually does come to hate Edmond for loving Mercedes, even though Edmond had thought they were great friends. Fernand hates Edmond so much that he wants him to suffer for all eternity. Creepy.
The 1934, 1998, and 2002 versions have Edmond and Mercedes getting back together. This does not work for the reasons I mentioned in my reviews--it would be an abomination of love, two changed persons trying to live out an old dream of youth. They don't love each other as they are now, and they can't get who they were as youths back.
1934, 1998, and 2002 change the theme from the original "revenge is hollow" to "revenge is sweet and love conquers all."
1980 is the only one where the Count sails off with Haydee, which is how the book ends.
In the 1934 and 2002 versions, Mercedes does not love Fernand. In 1934 she marries him to fulfill her mother's dying wish. In 2002, she does it to conceal being pregnant with her and Edmond's child. She loves Fernand as a brother in the book. 1934 also gives Mercedes a mother. In the novel she is an orphan, which is one of her incentives to marry.
1934, 1975, and 2002 lengthen the proportion of time spent in prison. In the novel, Edmond breaks out 1/7 of the way through. In the films, it's closer to 1/3 or even 1/2. This is a major reason why the revenge plots aren't as slow and deliberate as they should be. The film has to show prison time, but it also has to stay within the 2-2 1/2 hours that filmmakers shoot for.
1980, 1998, and the anime get Fernand's name and history right--he starts out as a poor laborer, Mondego, and becomes Le Comte Fernand de Morcerf. In the American films, he is born an aristocrat and keeps the name Mondego. It is important that Fernand starts out poor because he gets everything he has--his title, fortune, honor, and wife--by screwing over various people: Edmond, Ali Pasha, Haydee, etc. He starts with nothing and gains everything by underhand means, and all is revealed by Haydee, which humiliates him in the public eye. If he starts out as a noble, he would still be a noble. Starting out as a peasant, once it's revealed how he got his noble status, all his friends would shun him, taking away all he achieved. In 1934 and 1998, he commits suicide out of social disgrace, not because Mercedes and Albert left him.
The anime is the only one that omits Faria. However, it adds Gankutsuou, who fulfills the same role.
The Shawshank Redemption is the only one where the character is called "The Count of Monte Crisco."
The anime is the only one that preserves the emerald pillbox. I don't know why I noticed this, but it's interesting that this detail about the Count taking drugs almost never makes it into adaptations.
1975 and 1998 omit the Carnival.
Villefort goes in insane only in 1975 and the anime.
The three films omit the serial poisoning.
Edward dies only in 1980; the only other version to even include him is the anime. Without Edward's death, there is no catalyst for the change in Monte Cristo's view on revenge and he never realises the error of his ways. The anime makes up for it by replacing Edward's death with relationships with Albert and Haydee, which make the Count feel remorse for his actions when his actions hurt them.
The series include Monte Cristo's alter-egoes; the films do not (presumably because of time constraints).
Not one version includes the rain of blood.
Not one version includes transvestite lesbian Eugenie. Only 1980 and anime include Eugenie at all, and only the anime makes her important to the plot.
1934 and 1975 match Valentine with Albert, not Maximilien.
Only the anime preserves the way that Haydee reveals Fernand. In the others, she just shows up or is ordered to speak by the Count. It's important that she comes when the Count is away so "he can't stop her" because it speaks loudly about how the Count can control everything perfectly. He leaves at a crucial time, taking Albert with him (an event represented only in the anime), so that Haydee can do what she likes to satisfy her revenge, and Albert can't support his father at a critical time. She thinks that the Count will disapprove of her actions, so she can only expose Fernand when he is not around to stop her.
The anime is the only version where Edmond dies.
The anime is the only one to explore what happens to the characters in the years after the Count's scheming. It is also the only one to show Haydee's emotional response after getting revenge on Fernand.
1934, 1998, and 2002 change Mercedes' surname to de Rosa, Igualada, and Iguanada. I'm not sure why, since she's given the name Herrera in the novel.
Amount of time book Edmond spends in prison: 14 years.
Amount of time 1934 and anime Edmond spend in prison: 15 years.
Amount of time 1975 Edmond spends in prison: 14 years.
Amount of time 1980 Edmond spends in prison: ?
Amount of time 1998 Edmond spends in prison: 18-20 years.
Amount of time 2002 Edmond spends in prison: 13 years.
An inconsequential detail, but it's odd that most don't match the book.
Now, in conclusion, I sum up and rank order which ones are the best in certain areas.
Most faithful adaptation: Le Comte de Monte-Cristo (1980). Nearly every scene and character is present. With only seven hours, this leads to a rushed feel. Then Gankutsuou, especially in the way of themes and characters--the change of time period is inconsequential. Then the film The Count of Monte-Cristo (1975). 1998 contained many subplots but added too many frivolous ones and changed the title character too much. 1934 strayed too far as well. 2002 stands as the least faithful.
Best Count: Gankutsuou. No contest. A perfect representation of an alluring, intelligent, manipulative, sadistic, and overwhelmingly charismatic man who ultimately learns that the price of revenge is too high. Next, I say Jacques Weber from 1980 because of his charm and ability to flawlessly slip into any persona. Next, Richard Chamberlain. Then Jim Caviezel, who lacks the dark edge but shines in the charisma/originality department. Then Depardieu; his acting is fine, but he missed the character. I'm not sure who he is, but he's not the Count of Monte Cristo. In my mind, Robert Donat is the worst, possessing very little of what makes the Count who he is.
Best overall: Gankutsuou (2004-05)
Le Comte de Monte-Cristo (1980)
The Count of Monte-Cristo (1975)
These three best represent the spirit and themes of the novel. 1975 somewhat lacks point 2, but it still does reasonable service to the book, especially with such a short running time.
These next three I would not recommend:
The Count of Monte Cristo (1934)
Le Comte de Monte Cristo (1998)
The Count of Monte Cristo (2002)
These three changed too many details, especially the theme of the story. 2002 was definitely the poorest of the six, with almost nothing to compare it to the original novel, which is the intent if you're going to name your film after and base it on a novel. However, 1998 was not much better with its atrocious writing. 1934 at least works as a movie, if not an adaptation.
And finally...WiseWolf's pointless awards!
Best Mercedes: 1975
Best Fernand: anime
Best Danglars: 1980
Best Villefort: 1980
Best Caderousse: 1980
Best Albert: anime
Best Franz: anime
Best Eugenie: sort of unfair, since she only appears in two series, but anime
Best Haydee: anime, hands down. She never gets a break in the others.
Best Faria: 1975 and 2002
Best "entourage" (Bertuccio, Ali, Jacopo, Luigi Vampa, Baptistin): anime
Best Andrea: anime
Best Maximilien: 1998
Best Valentine: 1998
Best costumes: 1998 and anime
Best score: anime
Best sets: anime
And now I've finished. I hope you enjoyed this series of articles.
Celluloid used:
The Count of Monte Cristo. Dir. Rowland V. Lee. With Robert Donat, Elissa Land, and Sidney Blackmer. Reliance Pictures, 1934. Film
The Count of Monte-Cristo. Dir. David Green. With Richard Chamberlain, Tony Curtis, Louis Jourdan, and Kate Nelligan. 1975. Made-for-TV movie
Le Comte de Monte-Cristo. Dir. Denys de La Patelliere. With Jacques Weber, Manuel Tajeda, and Carla Romanelli. 1980. Miniseries
Le Comte de Monte Cristo. Dir. Josee Dayan. With Gerard Depardieu, Ornella Muti, and Jean Rochefort. Cite Films, 1998. Miniseries
The Count of Monte Cristo. Dir. Kevin Reynolds. With James Caviezel, Guy Pierce, and Dagmara Dominczyk. Spyglass Entertainment, 2002. Film
Gankutsuou. Dir. Mahiro Maeda. Studio Gonzo, 2004-2005. Series
Comparisons between the Versions
The 2002, anime, and possibly 1998 versions make Edmond and Fernand friends instead of two men who met once briefly.
The 1934 and 2002 versions make it quite clear that the Count orchestrated Albert's kidnapping. This is a very acceptable change because planning the kidnapping is something the Count of the book would do, considering his manipulative and all-knowing nature. He would want to make absolutely sure that he could get into the lives of his enemies in a heroic way. Both of these films also make Faria die in a tunnel collapse.
The three series contain all or nearly all of the characters. The film versions cut many characters. That's to be expected with the shorter running times.
Every single version except 1998 includes a sword duel between the Count and Fernand that was not present in the novel. Only the 2002 version has Monte Cristo kill Fernand in said duel.
1934, 1975, 1998, 2002, and anime have the prison inform Mercedes of Edmond's "execution" or "death" shortly after his arrival.
The reason why Fernand doesn't just kill Edmond himself in the book is because Mercedes says that she will kill herself if Edmond dies, and Fernand knows she means it. So, the problem is to get rid of Edmond without killing him, leading him and Danglars to write the letter. Some adaptations remove the element of Mercedes' death promise, but with that gone and no other explanation given, there is no reason why Fernand can't just off Edmond. It's a tiny detail, but an essential one to understanding why Edmond is sent to prison at all instead of having himself an accident. After all, sending him to prison leaves the slight possibility that he will escape or be released one day, a chance Fernand and Danglars wouldn't want to take. The 2002 film has an excuse: the two are friends, though Fernand is intensely jealous of Edmond. Fernand might not want to kill Edmond on account of their friendship. The anime also works, as Fernand actually does come to hate Edmond for loving Mercedes, even though Edmond had thought they were great friends. Fernand hates Edmond so much that he wants him to suffer for all eternity. Creepy.
The 1934, 1998, and 2002 versions have Edmond and Mercedes getting back together. This does not work for the reasons I mentioned in my reviews--it would be an abomination of love, two changed persons trying to live out an old dream of youth. They don't love each other as they are now, and they can't get who they were as youths back.
1934, 1998, and 2002 change the theme from the original "revenge is hollow" to "revenge is sweet and love conquers all."
1980 is the only one where the Count sails off with Haydee, which is how the book ends.
In the 1934 and 2002 versions, Mercedes does not love Fernand. In 1934 she marries him to fulfill her mother's dying wish. In 2002, she does it to conceal being pregnant with her and Edmond's child. She loves Fernand as a brother in the book. 1934 also gives Mercedes a mother. In the novel she is an orphan, which is one of her incentives to marry.
1934, 1975, and 2002 lengthen the proportion of time spent in prison. In the novel, Edmond breaks out 1/7 of the way through. In the films, it's closer to 1/3 or even 1/2. This is a major reason why the revenge plots aren't as slow and deliberate as they should be. The film has to show prison time, but it also has to stay within the 2-2 1/2 hours that filmmakers shoot for.
1980, 1998, and the anime get Fernand's name and history right--he starts out as a poor laborer, Mondego, and becomes Le Comte Fernand de Morcerf. In the American films, he is born an aristocrat and keeps the name Mondego. It is important that Fernand starts out poor because he gets everything he has--his title, fortune, honor, and wife--by screwing over various people: Edmond, Ali Pasha, Haydee, etc. He starts with nothing and gains everything by underhand means, and all is revealed by Haydee, which humiliates him in the public eye. If he starts out as a noble, he would still be a noble. Starting out as a peasant, once it's revealed how he got his noble status, all his friends would shun him, taking away all he achieved. In 1934 and 1998, he commits suicide out of social disgrace, not because Mercedes and Albert left him.
The anime is the only one that omits Faria. However, it adds Gankutsuou, who fulfills the same role.
The Shawshank Redemption is the only one where the character is called "The Count of Monte Crisco."
The anime is the only one that preserves the emerald pillbox. I don't know why I noticed this, but it's interesting that this detail about the Count taking drugs almost never makes it into adaptations.
1975 and 1998 omit the Carnival.
Villefort goes in insane only in 1975 and the anime.
The three films omit the serial poisoning.
Edward dies only in 1980; the only other version to even include him is the anime. Without Edward's death, there is no catalyst for the change in Monte Cristo's view on revenge and he never realises the error of his ways. The anime makes up for it by replacing Edward's death with relationships with Albert and Haydee, which make the Count feel remorse for his actions when his actions hurt them.
The series include Monte Cristo's alter-egoes; the films do not (presumably because of time constraints).
Not one version includes the rain of blood.
Not one version includes transvestite lesbian Eugenie. Only 1980 and anime include Eugenie at all, and only the anime makes her important to the plot.
1934 and 1975 match Valentine with Albert, not Maximilien.
Only the anime preserves the way that Haydee reveals Fernand. In the others, she just shows up or is ordered to speak by the Count. It's important that she comes when the Count is away so "he can't stop her" because it speaks loudly about how the Count can control everything perfectly. He leaves at a crucial time, taking Albert with him (an event represented only in the anime), so that Haydee can do what she likes to satisfy her revenge, and Albert can't support his father at a critical time. She thinks that the Count will disapprove of her actions, so she can only expose Fernand when he is not around to stop her.
The anime is the only version where Edmond dies.
The anime is the only one to explore what happens to the characters in the years after the Count's scheming. It is also the only one to show Haydee's emotional response after getting revenge on Fernand.
1934, 1998, and 2002 change Mercedes' surname to de Rosa, Igualada, and Iguanada. I'm not sure why, since she's given the name Herrera in the novel.
Amount of time book Edmond spends in prison: 14 years.
Amount of time 1934 and anime Edmond spend in prison: 15 years.
Amount of time 1975 Edmond spends in prison: 14 years.
Amount of time 1980 Edmond spends in prison: ?
Amount of time 1998 Edmond spends in prison: 18-20 years.
Amount of time 2002 Edmond spends in prison: 13 years.
An inconsequential detail, but it's odd that most don't match the book.
Now, in conclusion, I sum up and rank order which ones are the best in certain areas.
Most faithful adaptation: Le Comte de Monte-Cristo (1980). Nearly every scene and character is present. With only seven hours, this leads to a rushed feel. Then Gankutsuou, especially in the way of themes and characters--the change of time period is inconsequential. Then the film The Count of Monte-Cristo (1975). 1998 contained many subplots but added too many frivolous ones and changed the title character too much. 1934 strayed too far as well. 2002 stands as the least faithful.
Best Count: Gankutsuou. No contest. A perfect representation of an alluring, intelligent, manipulative, sadistic, and overwhelmingly charismatic man who ultimately learns that the price of revenge is too high. Next, I say Jacques Weber from 1980 because of his charm and ability to flawlessly slip into any persona. Next, Richard Chamberlain. Then Jim Caviezel, who lacks the dark edge but shines in the charisma/originality department. Then Depardieu; his acting is fine, but he missed the character. I'm not sure who he is, but he's not the Count of Monte Cristo. In my mind, Robert Donat is the worst, possessing very little of what makes the Count who he is.
Best overall: Gankutsuou (2004-05)
Le Comte de Monte-Cristo (1980)
The Count of Monte-Cristo (1975)
These three best represent the spirit and themes of the novel. 1975 somewhat lacks point 2, but it still does reasonable service to the book, especially with such a short running time.
These next three I would not recommend:
The Count of Monte Cristo (1934)
Le Comte de Monte Cristo (1998)
The Count of Monte Cristo (2002)
These three changed too many details, especially the theme of the story. 2002 was definitely the poorest of the six, with almost nothing to compare it to the original novel, which is the intent if you're going to name your film after and base it on a novel. However, 1998 was not much better with its atrocious writing. 1934 at least works as a movie, if not an adaptation.
And finally...WiseWolf's pointless awards!
Best Mercedes: 1975
Best Fernand: anime
Best Danglars: 1980
Best Villefort: 1980
Best Caderousse: 1980
Best Albert: anime
Best Franz: anime
Best Eugenie: sort of unfair, since she only appears in two series, but anime
Best Haydee: anime, hands down. She never gets a break in the others.
Best Faria: 1975 and 2002
Best "entourage" (Bertuccio, Ali, Jacopo, Luigi Vampa, Baptistin): anime
Best Andrea: anime
Best Maximilien: 1998
Best Valentine: 1998
Best costumes: 1998 and anime
Best score: anime
Best sets: anime
And now I've finished. I hope you enjoyed this series of articles.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Count Me In: "Gankutsuou"
Gankutsuou. Dir. Mahiro Maeda. With the voices of Joji Nakata and Jun Fukuyama. Studio Gonzo, 2004-2005. Runtime: 10 hrs.
Gankutsuou: The Count of Monte Cristo is, to put it bluntly, the best adaptation of the Dumas novel that I've ever seen, a great story that is both well-told and a superb adaptation.
This is the series that PBS doesn't have the guts to broadcast.
Gankutsuou is the longest of all the versions of the story that I saw, running ten hours. As this adaptation has some extreme differences from the others, I will give a few plot details that I didn't give for the other versions. It is set in the 51st century, and space travel has become normal. Outer space stands in for many places outside of Paris. Eastern Space is the Orient, Janina is now a planet, Albert and Franz go to the Moon for Carnival instead of Rome, and the Count takes Albert cruising in deep space instead of to Normandy. These are merely shifts in location and do not interfere with the actual story. Nearly all of the story still takes place in Paris and Marseilles in France. We begin at the Carnival on the Moon and follow Albert for the duration of the story instead of the Count, allowing us to see the story from a new perspective. Though many science fiction elements run rampant, like space travel, holograms, aliens, and mechanical horses, some 19th century French aesthetics are preserved, such as arranged marriages, class distinctions, opera, and some clothes. Horse-drawn carriages, 1940s cars, motorcycles, and hovercrafts share the streets. It all meshes convincingly to create a future that is both exotic and familiar. Setting the story in the vast future also alludes to the universality of the story: in the future, human nature will be the same as it ever was and wronged people will still want to make their own justice when the system fails to provide it.
Something fascinating happens when the focus is shifted to Albert. We lose the point-of-view angle on the Count and see him more easily as the villainous man he is. The Count of Monte Cristo is a classic anti-hero. We love him and we hate him. We admire him and are charmed by him, but we are apalled by the things he does to bring justice to those who wronged him a quarter of a century ago. The audience should never completely root for the Count--we may delight in seeing his enemies go down, but we know that he is not in the right. Many adaptations suffer from trying to make the Count too nice and completely right in his quest for vengeance. Not this one. He doesn't care how many innocents get killed, go crazy, or how much he has to play with their emotions or rip their families apart--he wants vengeance and justice and he will use any means necessary to get it, even to the extent of signing away his soul.
Which brings us to the Count himself. Gankutsuou's Count is not charismatic. He is made of charisma. He makes everyone he meets fall in love with him or at least want to be friends with him because of his money and influence. Monte Cristo captures everything that Dumas' Count is. He's an original (carpeting a cave is too tame for this guy--he builds an underground ocean teeming with sharks under the Champs-Elysees), he's sophisticated and charming, he can have barbaric manners to disturb his enemies, he has very strong determination, and he's cooler than ice in dealing with people. He is also very much a villainous anti-hero--we like him and understand his motives, but despise the horrific things he does for the sake of revenge, and he does some vicious things here. This Count is, without a doubt, the best portrayal of the Count of Monte Cristo I've ever seen. The animation and the voice actor, Joji Nakata, whose deep voice is perfect for the Count, combine to make a memorable character that embodies everything that Dumas wrote. In the book, some aristocrats, like the Countess G---, liken the Count to a vampire because of his pale skin, dark hair, sharp teeth, and cold hands. The anime gives him an exotic, vampiric visage with blue skin, blue hair, red and green eyes, pointy ears, and fangs. One can see how people would become instantly attracted to him while at the same time wanting to keep their distance just a little bit. The character designer did well in preserving the alluring looks of the Count while making him look unlike what Dumas describes. The revenge schemes wrought by the Count on each of the three conspirators are complex and very close to what they are in the book, and each man is brought down by his own vices, preserving point #4 on my list. Though the stock market subplot is included, Danglars' eventual fate is altered, but what happens to him is actually quite in line with what Dumas' Count would do. We also get to see Danglars watch his bank plummet rather than being told.
Points #1 and 4 on my criteria for a good adaptation--the preservation of the Count's character and the complex revenge schemes--have been fulfilled. #2--vengeance can't bring happiness-- is too. Much of the remorse from revenge is transfered to Haydee, whose name is spelled in the subtitles as "Haidee." The book never addresses how Haidee feels about having revealed Fernand's treachery. In the series, she is shown afterwards to feel sad and empty; she is sure that she has done the right thing, but still cries and doesn't feel happy. She then wants to save the Count from the emptiness that she feels, deepening her character and giving her more to do than simply be a Chekhov's gunwoman. Haidee finally gets her moment to shine. She goes through the same emotions that the Count does in the book, preserving the theme of "vengeance is a hollow victory" while still showing what happens when vengeance runs unchecked. The Count also does feel remorse, but it's done in more subtle ways than in the novel. After Albert leaves him in episode 15, the Count despairs over what he's about to do, because he's come to care for Albert and doesn't want to ruin his life. Then, in 17, when Mercedes comes to him after he's revealed how he's used Albert and has accepted a duel to the death with him, we can see that the Count has been crying. He might want to give up his revenge, but his deal with Gankutsuou will not allow him to do that. He has to see his revenge through. He even enjoys most of it, though not the parts the involve hurting those he loves (though Gankutsuou sees to it that he doesn't feel pity for them for long). In fact, omitting the death of Edward as the reason for his epiphany strengthens the reality of his feelings and conversion. In the book, he grieves because his revenge causes the death of a small child, albiet one he didn't really know. Here, his revenge causes great pain for several people that he truly cares about, which strikes a deeper chord than the death of a child he hardly knew. The Normandy trip (here a deep space trip) gains more significance as the Count tells Albert his own story while passing it off as something that happened to a friend.
(SPOILER WARNING) In this version, there is no Faria to dig through the walls. Instead, the spirit Gankutsuou appears to Emond in his despair to offer him a way out of prison. The spirit is responsible for the radical change in Edmond's appearance. The deal Edmond makes with Gankutsuou allows Edmond to have Gankutsuou's power and knowledge; in return, Edmond has to sign over his body and soul to the spirit when the revenge is complete. This means that Edmond will not get to live the rest of his life once he has finished dishing out retribution. He will have to live in his body not being able to control it for the rest of his life. Alternately, as Noirtier suggests, his very soul might disappear. That is definitely a fate worse than death--very little to enjoy there. So, in this way, Edmond does get revenge partially for justice, but it's a lot more subtle than in the book. Revenge in the moment is all he will get, and after that, his life is effectively over. No more life of luxury, and certainly not with Haidee. In addition, he partly does all this to avenge his father's death, as one line at a crucial point, right as he's losing his hold on humanity and letting the demon take control of him, tells us that he still knows that his father's death is a catalyst for his behavior. That's point 3 to a degree.
The ending is purely bittersweet. It takes place five years later and shows us how the survivors have gone on with their lives. Those still living have succeeded in various ways, but their families are dead, crazy, and/or scattered. It was also refreshing to see an anime give a series an epilogue episode instead of just ending and rolling the credits while the epilogue plays out underneath them (Romeo x Juliet, I'm looking at you). This series deserves a proper finale and gets one. Life does go on after a disaster. Episode 24 is leisurely after the intensity of 23 but still packs a wallop in its final scenes when someone finds something behind the painting we had been seeing throughout the whole show. The ending doesn't make you feel good like 2002's or 1934's films do--it makes you see the continual impact of betrayal and revenge. And that's point 5.
The music wonderfully matches the story. It combines classical music, like Tchaikovsky's "Manfred Symphony" and Giacomo Meyerbeer's "Robert le Diable," with original compositions. The pre-existing music matches the story, as the characters attend the opera Robert le Diable in the novel, and Monte Cristo is compared to Manfred. A series that is so operatic and epic should have grand music to go along with it, and the score obliges. This is one of those series that I wish had an isolated music track as a special feature on the DVDs. I would gladly sit through this series with only the music and visuals. I guess the original soundtrack and classical music companion CDs will have to do.
... ...
..Don't look at me like that.
There's really only one thing I'll say against the series: the art style. I've seen nothing else like it. The first time I tried to watch it, I cut out after seven minutes, unable to take it anymore. While it is dazzling, it is also very hard on the eyes at first, dizzying, and a little nauseating. It screens in various textures and patterns which remain stationary as the characters move. If you've seen the show Kablam! and remember Tommy's plaid jacket from those "The Offbeats" segments, that is what this show is like for everyone's hair, shirt, pants, scarf, dress, coat, cloak, and various other objects like tables, cups, and guns. A character could turn around and the design that was on the back of the shirt is now on the front. A cape could blow in the wind but appear not to move at all. I think I finally figured out why the art is like this: most of the characters are aristocrats and have detailed clothing, so screening in patterns is the best way to demonstrate that wealth without the company going into bankruptcy trying to hand-draw those patterns. Some patterns are subtle, like Valentine's clothes and Franz's hair, which match their personalities. Others are loud: Danglars' clothes and house boast eye-bleedingly intense patterns and colors to underline his luxurious lifestyle. The color palette of the show also looks like someone threw up Skittles at Acid Disneyland. Nevertheless, once you get used to it, it's very unique and even pleasant at times, and you notice it less. I will never again let an unusual art style be the reason I don't watch hand-drawn animation--I just might miss one of my favorite shows.
I have to make a defence of the use of mecha. I was very surprised when mecha (giant person-piloted robots) showed up in episodes 18 and 23. I actually thought that I'd stumbled into another series. However, by the end of 18, I was sold, and I'm not a mecha fan. It works because the show treats the mecha with respect and sincerity. The combatants use them just like Frenchmen of the past used sabres and pistols. People of the future use mecha to fight duels; there's nothing special about it to them, it's all they know. The drama in the second half is also something special and would never work without the mecha. Kudos to Gankutsuou for making giant robots sophisticated. Episode 18 is also where the story takes a departure from the book with a what-if scenario: What if Mercedes hadn't been able to persuade the Count to spare her son? It allows us to take a look at what happens when revenge runs unchecked while still keeping in line with the spirit and tone of the book. Though there are sword duels, they're not particularly thrilling to watch, but instead horrific and gut-wrenching--you could not imagine Donat taking part in these duels. (There's the rest of point 5.)
The show's pacing and structure are perfect: there is not one single wasted scene, the plot elements are exactly where they need to be for the greatest impact, and the show moves at a fast pace, but not too fast to understand what's happening. Every scene pushes the plot forward in some way, with no long scenes or episodes where the characters sit around talking about their flaws. We see their personalities emerge and develop through their actions and reactions to strange situations, which is the best kind of development to have. Despite the fact that we have a lot of characters and subplots to keep track off, all of them are neatly, but believably, resolved by the end of the series.
Mahiro Maeda seems to be the only director who's latched onto the fact that The Count of Monte Cristo is not a children's book. Funimation effectively gives this series an NC-17 rating by making you confirm that you're 17 in order to watch it on their website. The show has little violence (most of it unseen--the context is what's so disturbing), implied off-screen sex, an attempted rape, and very brief nudity, and that's about it. But the themes of the story are very adult ones: betrayal, murder, manipulating young people, the past, revenge, love, trust, doubt, insanity, loss of identity and innocence. That's what makes this anime mature--not the violence, but the seriousness of the themes and the sophistication of the storytelling.
This series is superb both as an adaptation and as a work on its own. It fulfills the criteria I set down for a successful Count of Monte Cristo adaptation and is a marvelous piece of classy storytelling. It brings something (many things, actually) new to the story while remaining faithful to the spirit and tone of the book, and that's exactly what you need to do if you want to adapt a story that's been adapted dozens of times already. If you haven't seen it, seek it out and enjoy it, whether you normally watch anime or not. You are in for a real treat. If your eyes can handle the static patterns. See it in Japanese; it preserves the French spoken by Gankutsuou, though it takes a few episodes to get used to Albert being called "Aruberu."
Final note: "Gankutsuou" means "king of the cavern" in Japanese. It is the title of the novel in Japan.
Next: I wrap up my series with a list of general observations of and comparisons between the versions.
Gankutsuou: The Count of Monte Cristo is, to put it bluntly, the best adaptation of the Dumas novel that I've ever seen, a great story that is both well-told and a superb adaptation.
This is the series that PBS doesn't have the guts to broadcast.
Gankutsuou is the longest of all the versions of the story that I saw, running ten hours. As this adaptation has some extreme differences from the others, I will give a few plot details that I didn't give for the other versions. It is set in the 51st century, and space travel has become normal. Outer space stands in for many places outside of Paris. Eastern Space is the Orient, Janina is now a planet, Albert and Franz go to the Moon for Carnival instead of Rome, and the Count takes Albert cruising in deep space instead of to Normandy. These are merely shifts in location and do not interfere with the actual story. Nearly all of the story still takes place in Paris and Marseilles in France. We begin at the Carnival on the Moon and follow Albert for the duration of the story instead of the Count, allowing us to see the story from a new perspective. Though many science fiction elements run rampant, like space travel, holograms, aliens, and mechanical horses, some 19th century French aesthetics are preserved, such as arranged marriages, class distinctions, opera, and some clothes. Horse-drawn carriages, 1940s cars, motorcycles, and hovercrafts share the streets. It all meshes convincingly to create a future that is both exotic and familiar. Setting the story in the vast future also alludes to the universality of the story: in the future, human nature will be the same as it ever was and wronged people will still want to make their own justice when the system fails to provide it.
Something fascinating happens when the focus is shifted to Albert. We lose the point-of-view angle on the Count and see him more easily as the villainous man he is. The Count of Monte Cristo is a classic anti-hero. We love him and we hate him. We admire him and are charmed by him, but we are apalled by the things he does to bring justice to those who wronged him a quarter of a century ago. The audience should never completely root for the Count--we may delight in seeing his enemies go down, but we know that he is not in the right. Many adaptations suffer from trying to make the Count too nice and completely right in his quest for vengeance. Not this one. He doesn't care how many innocents get killed, go crazy, or how much he has to play with their emotions or rip their families apart--he wants vengeance and justice and he will use any means necessary to get it, even to the extent of signing away his soul.
Which brings us to the Count himself. Gankutsuou's Count is not charismatic. He is made of charisma. He makes everyone he meets fall in love with him or at least want to be friends with him because of his money and influence. Monte Cristo captures everything that Dumas' Count is. He's an original (carpeting a cave is too tame for this guy--he builds an underground ocean teeming with sharks under the Champs-Elysees), he's sophisticated and charming, he can have barbaric manners to disturb his enemies, he has very strong determination, and he's cooler than ice in dealing with people. He is also very much a villainous anti-hero--we like him and understand his motives, but despise the horrific things he does for the sake of revenge, and he does some vicious things here. This Count is, without a doubt, the best portrayal of the Count of Monte Cristo I've ever seen. The animation and the voice actor, Joji Nakata, whose deep voice is perfect for the Count, combine to make a memorable character that embodies everything that Dumas wrote. In the book, some aristocrats, like the Countess G---, liken the Count to a vampire because of his pale skin, dark hair, sharp teeth, and cold hands. The anime gives him an exotic, vampiric visage with blue skin, blue hair, red and green eyes, pointy ears, and fangs. One can see how people would become instantly attracted to him while at the same time wanting to keep their distance just a little bit. The character designer did well in preserving the alluring looks of the Count while making him look unlike what Dumas describes. The revenge schemes wrought by the Count on each of the three conspirators are complex and very close to what they are in the book, and each man is brought down by his own vices, preserving point #4 on my list. Though the stock market subplot is included, Danglars' eventual fate is altered, but what happens to him is actually quite in line with what Dumas' Count would do. We also get to see Danglars watch his bank plummet rather than being told.
Points #1 and 4 on my criteria for a good adaptation--the preservation of the Count's character and the complex revenge schemes--have been fulfilled. #2--vengeance can't bring happiness-- is too. Much of the remorse from revenge is transfered to Haydee, whose name is spelled in the subtitles as "Haidee." The book never addresses how Haidee feels about having revealed Fernand's treachery. In the series, she is shown afterwards to feel sad and empty; she is sure that she has done the right thing, but still cries and doesn't feel happy. She then wants to save the Count from the emptiness that she feels, deepening her character and giving her more to do than simply be a Chekhov's gunwoman. Haidee finally gets her moment to shine. She goes through the same emotions that the Count does in the book, preserving the theme of "vengeance is a hollow victory" while still showing what happens when vengeance runs unchecked. The Count also does feel remorse, but it's done in more subtle ways than in the novel. After Albert leaves him in episode 15, the Count despairs over what he's about to do, because he's come to care for Albert and doesn't want to ruin his life. Then, in 17, when Mercedes comes to him after he's revealed how he's used Albert and has accepted a duel to the death with him, we can see that the Count has been crying. He might want to give up his revenge, but his deal with Gankutsuou will not allow him to do that. He has to see his revenge through. He even enjoys most of it, though not the parts the involve hurting those he loves (though Gankutsuou sees to it that he doesn't feel pity for them for long). In fact, omitting the death of Edward as the reason for his epiphany strengthens the reality of his feelings and conversion. In the book, he grieves because his revenge causes the death of a small child, albiet one he didn't really know. Here, his revenge causes great pain for several people that he truly cares about, which strikes a deeper chord than the death of a child he hardly knew. The Normandy trip (here a deep space trip) gains more significance as the Count tells Albert his own story while passing it off as something that happened to a friend.
(SPOILER WARNING) In this version, there is no Faria to dig through the walls. Instead, the spirit Gankutsuou appears to Emond in his despair to offer him a way out of prison. The spirit is responsible for the radical change in Edmond's appearance. The deal Edmond makes with Gankutsuou allows Edmond to have Gankutsuou's power and knowledge; in return, Edmond has to sign over his body and soul to the spirit when the revenge is complete. This means that Edmond will not get to live the rest of his life once he has finished dishing out retribution. He will have to live in his body not being able to control it for the rest of his life. Alternately, as Noirtier suggests, his very soul might disappear. That is definitely a fate worse than death--very little to enjoy there. So, in this way, Edmond does get revenge partially for justice, but it's a lot more subtle than in the book. Revenge in the moment is all he will get, and after that, his life is effectively over. No more life of luxury, and certainly not with Haidee. In addition, he partly does all this to avenge his father's death, as one line at a crucial point, right as he's losing his hold on humanity and letting the demon take control of him, tells us that he still knows that his father's death is a catalyst for his behavior. That's point 3 to a degree.
The ending is purely bittersweet. It takes place five years later and shows us how the survivors have gone on with their lives. Those still living have succeeded in various ways, but their families are dead, crazy, and/or scattered. It was also refreshing to see an anime give a series an epilogue episode instead of just ending and rolling the credits while the epilogue plays out underneath them (Romeo x Juliet, I'm looking at you). This series deserves a proper finale and gets one. Life does go on after a disaster. Episode 24 is leisurely after the intensity of 23 but still packs a wallop in its final scenes when someone finds something behind the painting we had been seeing throughout the whole show. The ending doesn't make you feel good like 2002's or 1934's films do--it makes you see the continual impact of betrayal and revenge. And that's point 5.
The music wonderfully matches the story. It combines classical music, like Tchaikovsky's "Manfred Symphony" and Giacomo Meyerbeer's "Robert le Diable," with original compositions. The pre-existing music matches the story, as the characters attend the opera Robert le Diable in the novel, and Monte Cristo is compared to Manfred. A series that is so operatic and epic should have grand music to go along with it, and the score obliges. This is one of those series that I wish had an isolated music track as a special feature on the DVDs. I would gladly sit through this series with only the music and visuals. I guess the original soundtrack and classical music companion CDs will have to do.
... ...
..Don't look at me like that.
There's really only one thing I'll say against the series: the art style. I've seen nothing else like it. The first time I tried to watch it, I cut out after seven minutes, unable to take it anymore. While it is dazzling, it is also very hard on the eyes at first, dizzying, and a little nauseating. It screens in various textures and patterns which remain stationary as the characters move. If you've seen the show Kablam! and remember Tommy's plaid jacket from those "The Offbeats" segments, that is what this show is like for everyone's hair, shirt, pants, scarf, dress, coat, cloak, and various other objects like tables, cups, and guns. A character could turn around and the design that was on the back of the shirt is now on the front. A cape could blow in the wind but appear not to move at all. I think I finally figured out why the art is like this: most of the characters are aristocrats and have detailed clothing, so screening in patterns is the best way to demonstrate that wealth without the company going into bankruptcy trying to hand-draw those patterns. Some patterns are subtle, like Valentine's clothes and Franz's hair, which match their personalities. Others are loud: Danglars' clothes and house boast eye-bleedingly intense patterns and colors to underline his luxurious lifestyle. The color palette of the show also looks like someone threw up Skittles at Acid Disneyland. Nevertheless, once you get used to it, it's very unique and even pleasant at times, and you notice it less. I will never again let an unusual art style be the reason I don't watch hand-drawn animation--I just might miss one of my favorite shows.
I have to make a defence of the use of mecha. I was very surprised when mecha (giant person-piloted robots) showed up in episodes 18 and 23. I actually thought that I'd stumbled into another series. However, by the end of 18, I was sold, and I'm not a mecha fan. It works because the show treats the mecha with respect and sincerity. The combatants use them just like Frenchmen of the past used sabres and pistols. People of the future use mecha to fight duels; there's nothing special about it to them, it's all they know. The drama in the second half is also something special and would never work without the mecha. Kudos to Gankutsuou for making giant robots sophisticated. Episode 18 is also where the story takes a departure from the book with a what-if scenario: What if Mercedes hadn't been able to persuade the Count to spare her son? It allows us to take a look at what happens when revenge runs unchecked while still keeping in line with the spirit and tone of the book. Though there are sword duels, they're not particularly thrilling to watch, but instead horrific and gut-wrenching--you could not imagine Donat taking part in these duels. (There's the rest of point 5.)
The show's pacing and structure are perfect: there is not one single wasted scene, the plot elements are exactly where they need to be for the greatest impact, and the show moves at a fast pace, but not too fast to understand what's happening. Every scene pushes the plot forward in some way, with no long scenes or episodes where the characters sit around talking about their flaws. We see their personalities emerge and develop through their actions and reactions to strange situations, which is the best kind of development to have. Despite the fact that we have a lot of characters and subplots to keep track off, all of them are neatly, but believably, resolved by the end of the series.
Mahiro Maeda seems to be the only director who's latched onto the fact that The Count of Monte Cristo is not a children's book. Funimation effectively gives this series an NC-17 rating by making you confirm that you're 17 in order to watch it on their website. The show has little violence (most of it unseen--the context is what's so disturbing), implied off-screen sex, an attempted rape, and very brief nudity, and that's about it. But the themes of the story are very adult ones: betrayal, murder, manipulating young people, the past, revenge, love, trust, doubt, insanity, loss of identity and innocence. That's what makes this anime mature--not the violence, but the seriousness of the themes and the sophistication of the storytelling.
This series is superb both as an adaptation and as a work on its own. It fulfills the criteria I set down for a successful Count of Monte Cristo adaptation and is a marvelous piece of classy storytelling. It brings something (many things, actually) new to the story while remaining faithful to the spirit and tone of the book, and that's exactly what you need to do if you want to adapt a story that's been adapted dozens of times already. If you haven't seen it, seek it out and enjoy it, whether you normally watch anime or not. You are in for a real treat. If your eyes can handle the static patterns. See it in Japanese; it preserves the French spoken by Gankutsuou, though it takes a few episodes to get used to Albert being called "Aruberu."
Final note: "Gankutsuou" means "king of the cavern" in Japanese. It is the title of the novel in Japan.
Next: I wrap up my series with a list of general observations of and comparisons between the versions.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
"Count"ing Down: 2002's "The Count of Monte Cristo"
The Count of Monte Cristo. Dir. Kevin Reynolds. With James Caviezel, Guy Pierce, and Dagmara Dominczyk, and Luiz Guzman. Spyglass Entertainment, 2002. Runtime: 131 minutes.
I am grateful to this movie for one thing: it led me to the book. If I had not seen this film, I might never have gotten the desire to read such a long, epic novel. So for that, thank you.
And my praise ends there.
Okay, almost.
Once again, we have Edmond Dantes framed for treason by Fernand and Danglars. He goes to prison, meets a priest, escapes, finds a treasure, styles himself a count, and comes back to wreck havoc on his enemies. Oh, and his fiancee has married Fernand.
The similarities just about stop there. It very nearly is The Count of Monte Cristo in name only. Director Kevin Reynolds might have made his own original revenge movie instead, changing the names of the characters.
Edmond and Fernand start out as friends, and Fernand frames him out of jealousy for his happiness and envy of his fiancee Mercedes. Making them friends adds a layer of insidiousness not present in the novel. Fernand in no longer a stranger but a trusted friend whom Edmond thought he could rely on. Edmond then spends the next thirteen years in prison. I liked that the film showed his despair. He tries to hang himself after a few years but only stops when he latches onto the idea that God will give him justice. Later, he will stop believing in God and be out for revenge for himself, not as Providence, failing point 3 (but, this can be forgiven). Then Richard Harris comes along as Faria. He's the true bright spot in this film. He makes everything he touches sparkle. He has a lot of energy and is fun to watch. After Edmond breaks out, he makes friends with Jacopo. It seems like every time someone makes an adaptation, they give Edmond different friends: sometimes it's Bertuccio, sometimes Ali gets in, sometimes Jacopo, sometimes Vampa, rarely Baptistin. There's dissent over whether or not Luis Guzman was right in this movie. He sort of sounds like he doesn't belong with his speech patterns, but I liked him. Edmond meets people from all over the world, so why not someone like Luis Guzman? He's a friend/servant who tries to keep Edmond sane.
In the book, the Count manipulates events so that his enemies do themselves in. Their pasts come back to rob them of everything they achieved by wronging others. In the movie, Fernand would probably have done himself in without Monte Cristo's help. The Janina campaign is gone; instead, Fernand has gambling problems and is an adulterer. Without the Count, he would surely have fallen into debt and ruin. Monte Cristo hardly needs to do anything here. Fernand should have been completely stable and so secure so that only the Count's drudging up of his past could make him fall from glory. The film makes Fernand a wholy loathsome person, a guy with the word "villain" all but stamped on his forehead, who doesn't even seem to love anyone or anything, stripping away his cleverness, cruelty, and love of family that existed in the book. He's so nasty that he hardly even seems like a real person. There is one moment in this sequence, however, that is distinctly Monte Cristo--when Jacopo tells him about the bank debts and loans to Fernand, the Count says, "Make sure we own that bank by tomorrow."
"Jacopo, I need you to go buy a few things. Some milk, a couple of horses, and the bank that Fernand uses. Thanks a lot."
This is totally in line with book Monte Cristo: utter control and the funds to be able to to whatever he wants on a whim. It resembles the incident in the book where he asks his servant Bertuccio to buy Danglars' horses at whatever cost and have them harnessed to his carriage by five...when it's two. And Bertuccio gets it done. That's power. Caviezel's Count is also charming, dresses exotically, and speaks well. He makes his entrance to the people of Paris by going forward in time, bringing back some Cirque du Soliel dancers, and having them bring down his balloon in front of his mansion. He gets out and greets the people with a flat, "Greetings." That's the Count. Originality and a cool demeanor. Yes, I believe that this Count could carpet a cave and talk plainly about it.
Caviezel's Count does have the charisma and exoticism that the part needs. However, he fails on another major point. (SPOILER COMING) The Count exacts revenge and rides off happily into the sunset with Mercedes (and in this case, his biological son as well). His enemies get punished, no innocents are harmed, Monte Cristo has no regrets, and he's thoroughly rewarded for his behavior. While Caviezel displays the charisma and originality of the Count, he fails to show the darker, sadistic side. If the Count were not so diabolical, he would probably never carry out a revenge scheme that must have taken the whole nine years between his escape and arrival at the Rome Carnival to plan. He would buy a villa, retire to Florence, start a hotel, buy an old boat, and going out charter fishing every day. Without the nasty side, he would forgive his enemies and live his life in peace and luxury. This character change is a fault of the writing instead of the acting, however. The writers wrote out the events that come out of the Count's sadistic planning and the pleasure that the Count gets from watching people suffer as he did. Nevertheless, it still fails in criterion #1 on my list. Without all the facets of the Count's character, the story loses some impact, as we don't get to see how vengeance changes him for the worse. He also loses some appeal: he's a good guy and that's it. He doesn't have that villainous streak that makes him appealing and appalling. He claims at one point that he will kill Albert, but he doesn't seem like he would actually do it. Dumas wrote a great character with charm, talents, and demons. There's no need to change him.
The revenge plans are changed beyond all recognition. I read the book after the movie and had not a single part of the vengeance spoiled for me. Villefort's and Danglars' families are omitted, leading the Count to take revenge solely on them. This contributes to the Count's softer character: no innocents have a chance to be harmed, which is part of what causes the audience to dislike the Count as the book goes on. The only innocent who has a chance of being harmed is Albert, as the Count says on the island that he wants revenge on Mercedes as well for marrying Fernand, whereas in the book he forgives her. He doesn't make his enemies suffer enough. Does he make Villefort slowly lose his mind over a series of months from the deaths of his hosehold and then reveal the illegitamate child he had with Mde. Danglars to all Paris? No. Does he mess with the telegraphs and stock market for weeks, then kidnap Danglars and starve his money out of him? No. Does he set up a scandal for Fernand, ruin his name, make his wife and child turn against him, and almost kill the child after setting him up to challenge him to a duel so that he has a legal excuse to murder him in front of his parents? No. That's making them suffer. Life without the things that they gained from betrayal.
I saw the movie several times and I'm still not sure what happens to Danglars. His love of money is what the Count should make work against him, but I think he gets nearly killed and arrested instead. Hmm. So what was the Count's huge scheme against him? Just imprisonment? That's not nasty enough for the Count, nor is it fitting for a banker who could buy himself comfort (good food, blankets, wine, time outside, letters) in prison. Villefort is taken to jail, which seems a fitting punishment for a procureur du roi who unjustly sent a man to prison to save his own pride and position. I'm still a bit miffed that Villefort's family was omitted, because he cared for them just as much as his position when it came down to the wire, and also that greatly shortens the time that Villefort slowly suffers and loses his mind, but since they've been cut out, Villefort's position and freedom are all he has left, and those are stripped from him. His fate gets a pass (though he'd probably be able to buy comfort in prison too).
Fernand's doesn't. His fate is quite sad in the book. He kills himself after losing the last things he loved--his wife and son. When they leave without saying goodbye or looking back, he sobs horribly and shoots himself. The film changes all of this into something far less satisfying and complex. For one, Fernand begins life as a count's son and inherits the title and fortune, omitting all of the backstabbing he had to do in the book to obtain his title, money, prestige, and family. Then, Fernand loses his money and ends up dueling the Count, who reveals himself as Edmond. He actually has a pistol loaded and aimed at Edmond when Mercedes and Albert show up out of nowhere. Fernand then shoots Mercedes because he thinks that it will damage Edmond the most. (For the record, when he said that line, I said, "Shoot him in the head!" Even though a head-shot would have been hard to pull off in those days. Moving along.) Edmond actually wants to show mercy to Fernand before Mercedes is shot and is willing to leave Fernand ruined but alive. Once Fernand shoots Mercedes and prompts Edmond to fight, Edmond is not accountable for killing Fernand. After all, Fernand started the fight. Thus, we get a feel-good ending where the bad guy who doesn't fight fair and was given a chance to start over is killed by the good hero who was willing to show mercy. I think we've seen this cliche enough and it's time to put it in the grave.
(EPIC SPOILER) A major change: Albert is Edmond's son. What. The. Crap. Mercedes and Edmond had sex before marriage; she got pregnant and married Fernand to save face. Albert accepts Edmond as his father with no questions. This change brings up the idea that the biological father is more important than the father who raised the child. I've seen it done many times where a child finds out that its "real father" is not the man who has raised it and suddenly hates that father and goes to find the biological one (coughWarriorCatscough). Fernand might not have been a great father, but he was still there in Albert's life, and Albert must have cared about him somewhat. In fact, he does, as in their final scene together he asks, "Forgive me, Father," for being so stupid not to see the Count's plans earlier. We don't even see most of their lives; maybe Fernand was a great father for several years and only recently declined in his affection. Albert has lived with Fernand for sixteen years. Suddenly he has no problem going to live with a guy whom he hardly knows, who by the way killed the father who raised him? It would have been more interesting if Albert had been appalled by the whole affair and decided to leave France altogether, or at least get away as fast as he possibly can from these weird people who really can't let go of the past. That would inject some reality into the sappy ending.
Yes, this picture does it too: Edmond and Mercedes reunite. I explained why this doesn't work in my earlier reviews, but in a nutshell, the two have changed so much in twenty-four years that they're not the same persons anymore, and living together would only remind them of the happiness they wanted to have but can't now. In this version, they rekindle their love, decide to leave the country together, and even have sex again after Mercedes comes to see Edmond after recognising him at her party. Now, that plot thread may have gone somewhere if Mercedes had told Fernand that she slept with the Count of Monte Cristo; Fernand's cheated on her, now she's cheated on him. He couldn't satisfy her, so she looked to the new, mysterious nobleman. Would Fernand care or not? Would he throw her out of the house...or feel better now that she's had an affair too and can't call him out for his infidelities? Would their marriage have finally split, or would Fernand have decided to try to be a good husband again? The film doesn't even explore this topic. Mercedes just tells him that Edmond is actually Albert's father, and Fernand hardly even cares, like he's guessed it already or was just waiting for an excuse to leave his disappointment of a family and is happy to have one. Gosh, this film doesn't do anything interesting.
A few little mistakes that bugged me: I can believe that the Count has beautiful teeth: he definitely has the money to have dentures made. But how in the world does that cheap string stay on Mercedes' finger for over a decade? How do Edmond and Faria stay alive on one tiny bowl of soup per day? And how does Edmond almost become a ship's captain without being able to read and write? Another tiny one is that none of the characters appear to age. Book Edmond doesn't recognise himself after looking at his reflection fourteen years after the start of his imprisonment, so none of his friends could be expected to recognise him twenty-four years later. This movie has sped up the time to sixteen years, yet still none of them look it. Error in the makeup department, perhaps?
This film very basically follows the book with some plots and characters, but fails to bring alive the spirit of the novel. It should have been altered a little more and made into an original story with a different title and different character names. Omitted from this telling are the rather important characters Haydee and Andrea. They are essential as Chekhov's gunwoman and gunman, so without them the film has to construct a new revenge scheme that doesn't resemble the book's in execution or spirit. I'm upset that this movie is called Alexandre Dumas' The Count of Monte Cristo. This is not Alexandre Dumas' The Count of Monte Cristo. It's something else entirely. It contains none of my criteria for an adaptation that follows the book in theme and spirit and fails to capture even the essence of the classic book.
This book simply does not work as a two-hour movie. Dumas originally published it as a serialised work, the modern equivalent of which is the television series, or more specifically, the miniseries. I have noticed that the series are, generally speaking, more faithful and better adaptations than the films. True, movies should work on their own, but why name your work after someone else's work if yours hardly resembles theirs? Again, make something original inspired by the work if you want to tackle entirely different themes and completely change the characters. I've said it before in this review series and I'll say it again: this story should not be a film. There is nothing wrong with making a fifteen-hour miniseries. There's a great joy and comfort in being able to watch the same story play out over fifteen weeks, the story and suspense building and becoming more intricate all the time, characters coming and going. Do it, BBC or HBO!
Characters omitted: Haydee, Andrea, Bertuccio, Baptistin, Ali, Caderousse, Heloise, Edward, Valentine, Maximilian, Julie, Franz, Debray, Beauchamp, Chateau-Renaud, Hermine, Eugenie, Louise, Major Cavalcanti, Barrois, Countess G---, Teresa, Peppino, and all of Edmond's aliases. Noirtier is also effectively cut; he is renamed Clarion and does not play the part he has in the book. Louis Dantes is also given a different role by committing suicide rather than dying of loneliness and starvation because no one cared for the old man when Edmond left. The cruelty of his death is another thing that gives Edmond the drive to revenge.
Five down, one to go:
from 2004, Gankutsuou.
I made a poem.
I am grateful to this movie for one thing: it led me to the book. If I had not seen this film, I might never have gotten the desire to read such a long, epic novel. So for that, thank you.
And my praise ends there.
Okay, almost.
Once again, we have Edmond Dantes framed for treason by Fernand and Danglars. He goes to prison, meets a priest, escapes, finds a treasure, styles himself a count, and comes back to wreck havoc on his enemies. Oh, and his fiancee has married Fernand.
The similarities just about stop there. It very nearly is The Count of Monte Cristo in name only. Director Kevin Reynolds might have made his own original revenge movie instead, changing the names of the characters.
Edmond and Fernand start out as friends, and Fernand frames him out of jealousy for his happiness and envy of his fiancee Mercedes. Making them friends adds a layer of insidiousness not present in the novel. Fernand in no longer a stranger but a trusted friend whom Edmond thought he could rely on. Edmond then spends the next thirteen years in prison. I liked that the film showed his despair. He tries to hang himself after a few years but only stops when he latches onto the idea that God will give him justice. Later, he will stop believing in God and be out for revenge for himself, not as Providence, failing point 3 (but, this can be forgiven). Then Richard Harris comes along as Faria. He's the true bright spot in this film. He makes everything he touches sparkle. He has a lot of energy and is fun to watch. After Edmond breaks out, he makes friends with Jacopo. It seems like every time someone makes an adaptation, they give Edmond different friends: sometimes it's Bertuccio, sometimes Ali gets in, sometimes Jacopo, sometimes Vampa, rarely Baptistin. There's dissent over whether or not Luis Guzman was right in this movie. He sort of sounds like he doesn't belong with his speech patterns, but I liked him. Edmond meets people from all over the world, so why not someone like Luis Guzman? He's a friend/servant who tries to keep Edmond sane.
In the book, the Count manipulates events so that his enemies do themselves in. Their pasts come back to rob them of everything they achieved by wronging others. In the movie, Fernand would probably have done himself in without Monte Cristo's help. The Janina campaign is gone; instead, Fernand has gambling problems and is an adulterer. Without the Count, he would surely have fallen into debt and ruin. Monte Cristo hardly needs to do anything here. Fernand should have been completely stable and so secure so that only the Count's drudging up of his past could make him fall from glory. The film makes Fernand a wholy loathsome person, a guy with the word "villain" all but stamped on his forehead, who doesn't even seem to love anyone or anything, stripping away his cleverness, cruelty, and love of family that existed in the book. He's so nasty that he hardly even seems like a real person. There is one moment in this sequence, however, that is distinctly Monte Cristo--when Jacopo tells him about the bank debts and loans to Fernand, the Count says, "Make sure we own that bank by tomorrow."
"Jacopo, I need you to go buy a few things. Some milk, a couple of horses, and the bank that Fernand uses. Thanks a lot."
This is totally in line with book Monte Cristo: utter control and the funds to be able to to whatever he wants on a whim. It resembles the incident in the book where he asks his servant Bertuccio to buy Danglars' horses at whatever cost and have them harnessed to his carriage by five...when it's two. And Bertuccio gets it done. That's power. Caviezel's Count is also charming, dresses exotically, and speaks well. He makes his entrance to the people of Paris by going forward in time, bringing back some Cirque du Soliel dancers, and having them bring down his balloon in front of his mansion. He gets out and greets the people with a flat, "Greetings." That's the Count. Originality and a cool demeanor. Yes, I believe that this Count could carpet a cave and talk plainly about it.
Caviezel's Count does have the charisma and exoticism that the part needs. However, he fails on another major point. (SPOILER COMING) The Count exacts revenge and rides off happily into the sunset with Mercedes (and in this case, his biological son as well). His enemies get punished, no innocents are harmed, Monte Cristo has no regrets, and he's thoroughly rewarded for his behavior. While Caviezel displays the charisma and originality of the Count, he fails to show the darker, sadistic side. If the Count were not so diabolical, he would probably never carry out a revenge scheme that must have taken the whole nine years between his escape and arrival at the Rome Carnival to plan. He would buy a villa, retire to Florence, start a hotel, buy an old boat, and going out charter fishing every day. Without the nasty side, he would forgive his enemies and live his life in peace and luxury. This character change is a fault of the writing instead of the acting, however. The writers wrote out the events that come out of the Count's sadistic planning and the pleasure that the Count gets from watching people suffer as he did. Nevertheless, it still fails in criterion #1 on my list. Without all the facets of the Count's character, the story loses some impact, as we don't get to see how vengeance changes him for the worse. He also loses some appeal: he's a good guy and that's it. He doesn't have that villainous streak that makes him appealing and appalling. He claims at one point that he will kill Albert, but he doesn't seem like he would actually do it. Dumas wrote a great character with charm, talents, and demons. There's no need to change him.
The revenge plans are changed beyond all recognition. I read the book after the movie and had not a single part of the vengeance spoiled for me. Villefort's and Danglars' families are omitted, leading the Count to take revenge solely on them. This contributes to the Count's softer character: no innocents have a chance to be harmed, which is part of what causes the audience to dislike the Count as the book goes on. The only innocent who has a chance of being harmed is Albert, as the Count says on the island that he wants revenge on Mercedes as well for marrying Fernand, whereas in the book he forgives her. He doesn't make his enemies suffer enough. Does he make Villefort slowly lose his mind over a series of months from the deaths of his hosehold and then reveal the illegitamate child he had with Mde. Danglars to all Paris? No. Does he mess with the telegraphs and stock market for weeks, then kidnap Danglars and starve his money out of him? No. Does he set up a scandal for Fernand, ruin his name, make his wife and child turn against him, and almost kill the child after setting him up to challenge him to a duel so that he has a legal excuse to murder him in front of his parents? No. That's making them suffer. Life without the things that they gained from betrayal.
I saw the movie several times and I'm still not sure what happens to Danglars. His love of money is what the Count should make work against him, but I think he gets nearly killed and arrested instead. Hmm. So what was the Count's huge scheme against him? Just imprisonment? That's not nasty enough for the Count, nor is it fitting for a banker who could buy himself comfort (good food, blankets, wine, time outside, letters) in prison. Villefort is taken to jail, which seems a fitting punishment for a procureur du roi who unjustly sent a man to prison to save his own pride and position. I'm still a bit miffed that Villefort's family was omitted, because he cared for them just as much as his position when it came down to the wire, and also that greatly shortens the time that Villefort slowly suffers and loses his mind, but since they've been cut out, Villefort's position and freedom are all he has left, and those are stripped from him. His fate gets a pass (though he'd probably be able to buy comfort in prison too).
Fernand's doesn't. His fate is quite sad in the book. He kills himself after losing the last things he loved--his wife and son. When they leave without saying goodbye or looking back, he sobs horribly and shoots himself. The film changes all of this into something far less satisfying and complex. For one, Fernand begins life as a count's son and inherits the title and fortune, omitting all of the backstabbing he had to do in the book to obtain his title, money, prestige, and family. Then, Fernand loses his money and ends up dueling the Count, who reveals himself as Edmond. He actually has a pistol loaded and aimed at Edmond when Mercedes and Albert show up out of nowhere. Fernand then shoots Mercedes because he thinks that it will damage Edmond the most. (For the record, when he said that line, I said, "Shoot him in the head!" Even though a head-shot would have been hard to pull off in those days. Moving along.) Edmond actually wants to show mercy to Fernand before Mercedes is shot and is willing to leave Fernand ruined but alive. Once Fernand shoots Mercedes and prompts Edmond to fight, Edmond is not accountable for killing Fernand. After all, Fernand started the fight. Thus, we get a feel-good ending where the bad guy who doesn't fight fair and was given a chance to start over is killed by the good hero who was willing to show mercy. I think we've seen this cliche enough and it's time to put it in the grave.
(EPIC SPOILER) A major change: Albert is Edmond's son. What. The. Crap. Mercedes and Edmond had sex before marriage; she got pregnant and married Fernand to save face. Albert accepts Edmond as his father with no questions. This change brings up the idea that the biological father is more important than the father who raised the child. I've seen it done many times where a child finds out that its "real father" is not the man who has raised it and suddenly hates that father and goes to find the biological one (coughWarriorCatscough). Fernand might not have been a great father, but he was still there in Albert's life, and Albert must have cared about him somewhat. In fact, he does, as in their final scene together he asks, "Forgive me, Father," for being so stupid not to see the Count's plans earlier. We don't even see most of their lives; maybe Fernand was a great father for several years and only recently declined in his affection. Albert has lived with Fernand for sixteen years. Suddenly he has no problem going to live with a guy whom he hardly knows, who by the way killed the father who raised him? It would have been more interesting if Albert had been appalled by the whole affair and decided to leave France altogether, or at least get away as fast as he possibly can from these weird people who really can't let go of the past. That would inject some reality into the sappy ending.
Yes, this picture does it too: Edmond and Mercedes reunite. I explained why this doesn't work in my earlier reviews, but in a nutshell, the two have changed so much in twenty-four years that they're not the same persons anymore, and living together would only remind them of the happiness they wanted to have but can't now. In this version, they rekindle their love, decide to leave the country together, and even have sex again after Mercedes comes to see Edmond after recognising him at her party. Now, that plot thread may have gone somewhere if Mercedes had told Fernand that she slept with the Count of Monte Cristo; Fernand's cheated on her, now she's cheated on him. He couldn't satisfy her, so she looked to the new, mysterious nobleman. Would Fernand care or not? Would he throw her out of the house...or feel better now that she's had an affair too and can't call him out for his infidelities? Would their marriage have finally split, or would Fernand have decided to try to be a good husband again? The film doesn't even explore this topic. Mercedes just tells him that Edmond is actually Albert's father, and Fernand hardly even cares, like he's guessed it already or was just waiting for an excuse to leave his disappointment of a family and is happy to have one. Gosh, this film doesn't do anything interesting.
A few little mistakes that bugged me: I can believe that the Count has beautiful teeth: he definitely has the money to have dentures made. But how in the world does that cheap string stay on Mercedes' finger for over a decade? How do Edmond and Faria stay alive on one tiny bowl of soup per day? And how does Edmond almost become a ship's captain without being able to read and write? Another tiny one is that none of the characters appear to age. Book Edmond doesn't recognise himself after looking at his reflection fourteen years after the start of his imprisonment, so none of his friends could be expected to recognise him twenty-four years later. This movie has sped up the time to sixteen years, yet still none of them look it. Error in the makeup department, perhaps?
This film very basically follows the book with some plots and characters, but fails to bring alive the spirit of the novel. It should have been altered a little more and made into an original story with a different title and different character names. Omitted from this telling are the rather important characters Haydee and Andrea. They are essential as Chekhov's gunwoman and gunman, so without them the film has to construct a new revenge scheme that doesn't resemble the book's in execution or spirit. I'm upset that this movie is called Alexandre Dumas' The Count of Monte Cristo. This is not Alexandre Dumas' The Count of Monte Cristo. It's something else entirely. It contains none of my criteria for an adaptation that follows the book in theme and spirit and fails to capture even the essence of the classic book.
This book simply does not work as a two-hour movie. Dumas originally published it as a serialised work, the modern equivalent of which is the television series, or more specifically, the miniseries. I have noticed that the series are, generally speaking, more faithful and better adaptations than the films. True, movies should work on their own, but why name your work after someone else's work if yours hardly resembles theirs? Again, make something original inspired by the work if you want to tackle entirely different themes and completely change the characters. I've said it before in this review series and I'll say it again: this story should not be a film. There is nothing wrong with making a fifteen-hour miniseries. There's a great joy and comfort in being able to watch the same story play out over fifteen weeks, the story and suspense building and becoming more intricate all the time, characters coming and going. Do it, BBC or HBO!
Characters omitted: Haydee, Andrea, Bertuccio, Baptistin, Ali, Caderousse, Heloise, Edward, Valentine, Maximilian, Julie, Franz, Debray, Beauchamp, Chateau-Renaud, Hermine, Eugenie, Louise, Major Cavalcanti, Barrois, Countess G---, Teresa, Peppino, and all of Edmond's aliases. Noirtier is also effectively cut; he is renamed Clarion and does not play the part he has in the book. Louis Dantes is also given a different role by committing suicide rather than dying of loneliness and starvation because no one cared for the old man when Edmond left. The cruelty of his death is another thing that gives Edmond the drive to revenge.
Five down, one to go:
from 2004, Gankutsuou.
I made a poem.
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