The Count of Monte Cristo

No film version can substitute for reading the unabridged version of The Count of Monte Cristo. No doubt there is no substitute for reading it in French, but for English-speakers Robin Buss' 1996 English translation reportedly captures the both spirit and letter of Dumas' novel better than previous translations. In my opinion, the 1934 film also captures the spirit of the book, but omits many characters and story lines, and adds or rewrites others. Nevertheless, this film version is fun to watch.

This should be a classic. It is a superb motion picture. It has a brilliant cast. An excellent interpretation of what the author of the book wrote. The director and producer was of the top class.

This briskly paced, attractively packaged version of the Dumas classic continues to stand the test of time, owing in large part to Robert Donat, an actor for the ages, and a supporting cast which includes the able Louis Calhern as Donat's strongest enemy, the florid Raymond Walburn as the weakest, and the aristocratic beauty Elissa Landi as the love interest. The story itself is melodrama at its best, with the hook of an innocent man not only wronged by self-seeking villains but wronged in a spectacularly cold-blooded, inhuman manner: railroaded to a veritable dungeon for a crime he did not commit and left to rot forever, only to be saved by a chance encounter with a noble fellow prisoner who bequeaths to him the location of a hidden treasure which he uncovers after a daring escape from his confinement. And then, using his vast fortune, he plots a great act of justice for his enemies, now prominent personages of great corruption, not by stooping to their level, but by cleverly manipulating them into self-exposure and ultimate destruction.

Delightful film of the classic stage warhorse, a bit creaky and slow starting, but with cumulative power sustained by the subtle yet vivid characterizations. Each principal has a uniquely nuanced personality, brought forth by gesture and language -- something sorely lacking in today's 90 percent trash. NOTE FOR CINASTES: I never fully appreciated the comic outrages of Jame's Whale's use of the Hermit in Bride of Frankenstein until I saw the prototype, created here by the same actor, O. P. Heggie. The Hermit in "Bride" is a gleeful, unabashed parody of Faria, even in the crescendo of music that mimics the "Ave Maria" in the Whale picture. I'm sure Whale wondered if his in-joke would be caught, and by how many. See the picture and you'll understand.

I was lucky enough to obtain a video copy of an excellent black & white print of this movie, as I believe the colourisation of current copies falsifies the viewing experience. The photography and lighting are so exquisite, only the 1930's movie-making artists - it was an art form then - could accomplish it and it has to be appreciated like an antique: old, but immensely valuable for that.

They truly don't make them like this any more, and after having seen some of the subsequent screen versions, I still don't believe this one has ever been surpassed. I have also read Dumas' novel and would say that except for some minor alterations to the plot, the movie is largely true to the book.

Robert Donat is a dashing Dantes, whose ageing in body and spirit during the course of the movie is utterly believable (but he even improved on his ability to portray a physical and mental journey a few years later, when he made "Goodbye Mr. Chips"). Elissa Landi is a sweet and witty heroine, and the villains are so beautifully characterised (notably Sidney Blackmer's Mondego) that it becomes all the more satisfying when Dantes deals with them according to their own villainous traits.

I particularly enjoyed the intelligent flashes of irony with which the grim story is suffused, such as Dantes' double-speak as he flatters his enemies, at the same time telling them truth which they choose to misunderstand. The script is fantastic, the acting luminous. I feel sorry for those who hesitate to watch black & white classics like this one - they miss out on the very essence of what the art of movie-making and acting really used to be about.