Over the past century, Alexandre Dumas’ classic adventure novel The Count of Monte Cristo has undergone literally dozens of film and television adaptations, finding a multitude of filmmakers clamoring to take a bite of the very fruitful apple. And it’s really no surprise, as the appeal of the story is self-evident, spinning an elaborate yarn of betrayal, prison break, revenge, and swordplay across decades in the life of its protagonist, French sailor-turned-aristocratic Angel of Vengeance Edmond Dantès. The most recent feature-length offering, a 2002 version directed by Kevin Reynolds (Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves) and starring Jim Caviezel and Guy Pearce, is arguably the most well-known and celebrated iteration, scoring critical and commercial success 22 years ago. But unwilling to let this valuable IP go to waste, the French film industry has seemingly pulled out all the stops to deliver this year’s The Count of Monte-Cristo, an epically scaled project that remains very faithful to the source material.
As directed by Matthieu Delaporte and Alexandre de La Patellière — who also co-wrote the screenplay together, having also been most recently responsible for scripting another pair of Dumas adaptations, in this case last year’s The Three Musketeers: D’Artagnan and The Three Musketeers: Milady — the film is characteristically stately and lavish, sparing no expense as it stands tall as a true feat of period costuming and production design, nicely matched by a cast of performers ably suited to their respective roles. Which is to say, technically speaking, The Count of Monte-Cristo hits its baseline competently and commits no egregious sins, but as a retelling of the Edmond Dantès’ saga, the film is in execution a colossal bore, failing to deliver much in the way of excitement or thrills as the runtime distends to three interminable hours. First-timers to the story, however few, will likely find plenty to enjoy in the narrative’s numerous twists and revelations, but those sporting any passing familiarity with Dumas’ novel may find themselves checking their watches long before the film ends.
Quickly, for those who don’t know the story: the setting is (initially) Marseille, 1815, where Edmond (Pierre Niney) is a deckhand on a ship run by the fearsome Captain Danglars (Patrick Mille). While initially getting into some hot water for rescuing the shipwrecked Angèle (Adèle Simphal), a woman carrying a letter from the exiled Napoleon Bonaparte, Edmond is soon promoted for his bravery, sharing the joyous news with fiancée Mercédès (Anaïs Demoustier) and her cousin, Fernand de Morcerf (Bastien Bouillon). On his wedding day, Edmond is arrested under suspicion of harboring allegiances to the Bonapartists — think hardcore followers of Napoleon looking to restore his mode of rule — and faces the wrath of prosecutor Gérard de Villefort (Laurent Lafitte). So far, so bad, and yet, despite Edmond’s innocence, Villefort colludes with Danglars and Fernand to have him imprisoned in the Château d’If, an inhospitable prison island offshore of the mainland. Just when all is seemingly lost, Edmond happens upon Abbé Faria (Pierfrancesco Favino) after the latter inadvertently tunnels into his cell, the product of many years of work. Striking a fast friendship, Edmond and Abbé plot their escape, with the seasoned prisoner educating the younger man on how to pass the time. After successfully escaping, a decade and a half later, Edmond rechristens himself as the Count of Monte Cristo and sets out to get revenge on the three men who ruined his life, soon accompanied by Andrea (Julien de Saint Jean), the illegitimate son of Angèle and Villefort.
As comprehensive as the above synopsis is, keep in mind that it only covers less than one-third of the film’s entire runtime. Everything is in its place and carefully meted out, but Delaporte and de La Patellière feel content here to merely go through the motions, eliminating the need for anything in the way of character, charm, or innovation. The Count of Monte Cristo is not exactly rocket science, but the overall effect is disheartening when sequences like Edmond’s prison break, unmistakably a narrative highlight and a riveting series of events on paper, are rendered largely inert onscreen, tossed away as if the pair of directors were only ticking off boxes on a checklist rather than chasing any inspiration. Those problems also extend to the Count’s machinations behind screwing over his nemeses, leaving everything in the latter two-thirds of the film to fall flat as they become painfully and dully prolonged. Performances are generally capable, but while Niney convinces during the meeker half of Edmond’s life, he struggles to convince of any fire lit in his belly as the Count, with the results feeling more akin to a child playing dress-up, complete with some ornate costuming and fanciful mask play at work. Indeed, much of the film screams “expensive theatre kids,” with over €40 million poured into the budget only to generate banal results (the film is reportedly France’s most expensive production of 2024). Even the climatic sword duel feels like a letdown — you know you’ve got problems when the director of Waterworld handily mops the floor with your adaptation. The Count of Monte-Cristo offers plenty of period prestige in its visual details, but its approach to thrilling storytelling could not be more lackluster.
DIRECTOR: Alexandre de La Patellière & Matthieu Delaporte; CAST: Pierre Niney, Bastien Bouillon, Anaïs Demoustier, Anamaria Vartolomei; DISTRIBUTOR: Samuel Goldwyn Films; IN THEATERS: December 20; RUNTIME: 2 hr. 58 min.
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