I am a great fan of Alexandre Dumas, and I have seen most of the serious adaptations of this great work, and, in my opinion, the French version with Gerard Depardieu is way out in front. Other reviewers have charged it with three flaws ~ the scandalously abbreviated beginning, the obesity of M. Depardieu, and the frivolous "Walt Disney" ending. These are all quite valid criticisms. The body of Dantes, after 18 years languishing in a dungeon, living upon thin soup, supplemented with the occasional rat with which he might be able to augment his diet, should leave him with a body gaunt and emaciated, a pale ghost freshy risen from a tomb, as Dumas describes him, not the well fed body of a gourmand like Depardieu (who is otherwise a perfectly brilliant Monte Cristo). And of course, the ending is stupid ~ there is no way that Edmond Dantes can live happily ever after with his lost Mercedes.
The disappointingly brief introduction is also regrettable, but, in the effort to bring an epic of this magnitude and depth to life, choices must be made ~ you have to pick your battles. First off, we dismiss all efforts to present this tale for some hour and a half's amusement ~ it can't be done. The 1975 version is perhaps the best of a bad lot, but it ends up somewhere between Cliff's Notes and the Classic Comic of Monte Cristo. The only other serious version to consider for the top spot is the very excellent BBC version of 1964. The BBC version is really good, and it succeeds in presenting the back story of Dantes the sailor, his betrothed Mercedes, the conspirators Mondego, Danglars, and Caderousse, the Chateau d'If, and the Abbe Faria, but I kept wondering how they were going to cover the rest of the story after spending so much of their temporal capital upon this material. The answer, of course, is that the remainder of the plot was woefully abridged and condensed, with many sub-plots entirely omitted.
The directors of the French version of 1998, on the other hand, chose to sacrifice the cinematic potential of the early material in order to focus on the principle plot elements of Monte Cristo's reemergence from his premature grave. In fact, nice as the BBC treatment of the early material was, it didn't substantially affect the later plot elements. The French version, by foreshortening this early material, was able to display a richness of detail and color that none of the other versions could match. For example, the appearances of the Abbe Busoni and Lord Wilmore served essential plot functions, entirely omitted in the other versions. Then there is the amusing character of Bertuccio, always fastidious in the preparation of food, taken directly from the pages of Dumas, who was a famous gourmet and gourmand, author of The Grand Dictionary of Cuisine. And the way Monte Cristo destroys Caderousse by giving him a diamond worth 50,000 crowns is brilliant.
Then there is the cursory treatment of M. Morrel and son in most other versions. Perhaps most viewers (and reviewers) salivate over Monte Cristo as a tale of revenge, which it certainly is, but Dumas was very careful to include the reward of the virtuous as well as the punishment of the wicked. We hear how old Morrel supported the elder Dantes, the father of Edmond, after the natural support of the son was taken away. We even find that when a purse filled with money is miraculously given to Morrel just in time to avert bankruptcy, he recognizes the purse as the one in which he used to send money to old Dantes. This scene never fails to move me to tears.
Then, while Monte Cristo is roasting the wicked de Villefort over the coals with great satisfaction, all his plans are thrown into confusion by the love of the younger Morrel and Valentine de Villefort. He finally relents from his implacable vengeance and blesses their union, as he earlier spared the life of Albert de Morcerf, son of Mercedes and Fernand Mondego.
To understand why The Count of Monte Cristo is widely considered one of the greatest novels in all of literature, it is necessary, of course, to read the book. No brief adaptation for the screen could possible do justice to the genius of Alexandre Dumas, but this French version of 1998 is easily the best attempt. If anyone wishes to improve upon it, they had better be prepared to devote about sixteen hours of screen time to the effort.
The disappointingly brief introduction is also regrettable, but, in the effort to bring an epic of this magnitude and depth to life, choices must be made ~ you have to pick your battles. First off, we dismiss all efforts to present this tale for some hour and a half's amusement ~ it can't be done. The 1975 version is perhaps the best of a bad lot, but it ends up somewhere between Cliff's Notes and the Classic Comic of Monte Cristo. The only other serious version to consider for the top spot is the very excellent BBC version of 1964. The BBC version is really good, and it succeeds in presenting the back story of Dantes the sailor, his betrothed Mercedes, the conspirators Mondego, Danglars, and Caderousse, the Chateau d'If, and the Abbe Faria, but I kept wondering how they were going to cover the rest of the story after spending so much of their temporal capital upon this material. The answer, of course, is that the remainder of the plot was woefully abridged and condensed, with many sub-plots entirely omitted.
The directors of the French version of 1998, on the other hand, chose to sacrifice the cinematic potential of the early material in order to focus on the principle plot elements of Monte Cristo's reemergence from his premature grave. In fact, nice as the BBC treatment of the early material was, it didn't substantially affect the later plot elements. The French version, by foreshortening this early material, was able to display a richness of detail and color that none of the other versions could match. For example, the appearances of the Abbe Busoni and Lord Wilmore served essential plot functions, entirely omitted in the other versions. Then there is the amusing character of Bertuccio, always fastidious in the preparation of food, taken directly from the pages of Dumas, who was a famous gourmet and gourmand, author of The Grand Dictionary of Cuisine. And the way Monte Cristo destroys Caderousse by giving him a diamond worth 50,000 crowns is brilliant.
Then there is the cursory treatment of M. Morrel and son in most other versions. Perhaps most viewers (and reviewers) salivate over Monte Cristo as a tale of revenge, which it certainly is, but Dumas was very careful to include the reward of the virtuous as well as the punishment of the wicked. We hear how old Morrel supported the elder Dantes, the father of Edmond, after the natural support of the son was taken away. We even find that when a purse filled with money is miraculously given to Morrel just in time to avert bankruptcy, he recognizes the purse as the one in which he used to send money to old Dantes. This scene never fails to move me to tears.
Then, while Monte Cristo is roasting the wicked de Villefort over the coals with great satisfaction, all his plans are thrown into confusion by the love of the younger Morrel and Valentine de Villefort. He finally relents from his implacable vengeance and blesses their union, as he earlier spared the life of Albert de Morcerf, son of Mercedes and Fernand Mondego.
To understand why The Count of Monte Cristo is widely considered one of the greatest novels in all of literature, it is necessary, of course, to read the book. No brief adaptation for the screen could possible do justice to the genius of Alexandre Dumas, but this French version of 1998 is easily the best attempt. If anyone wishes to improve upon it, they had better be prepared to devote about sixteen hours of screen time to the effort.
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