Swashing and Buckling: The Count of Monte Cristo (2024)
Or Le Comte de Monte-Cristo if you will. Full throttle revenge with extra revenge on top, Dumas’s tale is a bit ‘Man in the Iron Mask’ as an innocent man is arrested for a crime he did not commit/advocate for (wanting to put Napoleon back in power in 1815, pre-battle of Waterloo)…Left to rot in a miserable, isolated prison cell for life, he encounters a fellow prisoner and manages to escape. Swimming back to freedom, he finds there’s little left there for him, forfies himself with a horde of hidden Templar gold — and then launches himself back onto society and revenge. revenge, revenge.
Whilst this could be a moustache-twirling pot-boiler, here director/writer-adapters Alexandre de La Patellière and Matthieu Delaporte instead follow the pattern of the recent Musketeers two-parter. It’s also Dumas’s genius for a great story and intriguing characters - you can’t help but be drawn in and romp along with it. Though the movie does deviate from the original story at times, playing fast and loose with plots and characters.
Looking almost AI’d to begin with and all too perfect, we’re plunged into the ocean along with a burning ship and a desperately trying-not-to-drown mystery woman. Rescued onto another ship, the rotten Captain (?) Danglars (Patrick Mille) is none-too-impressed, especially when he finds a letter from Napoleon clutched in the woman’s hand. Pay attention — as in a very Heathcliff fashion, in twenty six (ish) years time, everyone will encounter each other again — and what they did in the past, matters.
The woman is Angèle (Adèle Simphal), sister to a very devious man indeed - Gérard de Villefort (Laurent Lafitte). She’s found her brother’s bastard child buried alive in a box in frozen ground, and determined to sort him and his mistress Victoria (Julie De Bona) out. Instead her brother sorts her out — selling her to people traffickers/a criminal gang, who it’s implied use her brutally in the sex trade. She escapes with a kindly client and comes back to avenge herself on her brother — and everyone — which is when she finds the inconvenient baby, scuppering all her plans of bloody revenge. The baby will become Andrea (Julien De Saint Jean), the Comte’s protege and primary tool of revenge.
Whilst it’s presented in purely romantic terms here, there are actual deeper politics in ferment here. The Bourbon dynasty (scythed down by the Revolution and pushed down by Napoleon) have regained the French throne. Napoleon has left his prison on the island of Elba (illegally) on the day the novel begins and threatens to return to power, and push Europe back into war again. Everything points to Waterloo. However, due to the women’s terrible hair and everyone’s general lack of hats, it’s hard to tell where we are. It’s 1815, but with all the fashionably messy men’s hair, the younger women in festival half-up do’s and everyone plastered in unnecessary mud a la Musketeers (2023) mode…is this Marseille or Glastonbury? The extras look fabulous though — in regional dress and bonnets. And as it turns out the budget was saved for the splendor of the 1830s and the gorgeous Orientalist mansion location, which will become the Comte’s base/bat cave — from which he schemes and launches his revenge.
Forget the politics, here the reason the Comte is thrown away and scandalously defamed is because his fiancée's cousin Fernand de Morcef
(Bastien Bouillon) fancies Mercédès Herrera (Anaïs Demoustier) for himself. Mercédès can’t love Fernand, despite his uniform, cavalry skills and fashionably 2024 floppy hair.
All is beautiful — Edmond Dantès (Pierre Niney) is a sailor who is about to become a captain of his own ship. There’s a bit of an army/navy clash here as Fernand is firmly in army red and gallops about with swagger. Edmond is all about boats and goes to tell his dad about how great things are — his dad is a Bonapartist who lives in a very big house hidden in the country. His dad approves, the wedding goes ahead. Everyone remembers that this is 1815 after all (ish) and finally look appropriate, casting off their festival gear -and put their hair up! The previous 1840s dresses on some lead characters scamper firmly back into 1815 territory. Though the wedding sadly never happens — for during the service, Edmond is alarmingly arrested for being a pro-Bonaparte schemer and dragged off kicking and scheming to gaol. The details are unclear — there are witnesses to swear that this is true and yet no proof of Edmond’s involvement in anything. Edmond vehemently denies the charges. In full rescuer on a charger mode, Fernand has the opportunity to save Edmond and Mercédès’ marriage. Instead he sees instead his opportunity to get what he wants. He refuses to support his cousin’s future husband and clear his name — instead damning him to prison for life, public notoriety — and certain death.
Edmond rages. Mercédès collapses. Fernand triumphs. But this is not the end — in their apparent end is their beginning.
Dumped into a hole in the ground of a prison cell, Edmond encounters a fellow prisoner Abbé Faria (Pierfrancesco Favino). Faria is an incredibly educated man, who also has a plan to dig his way to freedom, under the prison. As they have nothing better to do, he and Edmond form a tunnel digging team — and Faria shares his wisdom along the way. Edmond shrugs — he only knows about the sea — but soon he will have the weapons of philosophy, history and more at his disposal. In a nice montage, Edmond moves from despair to training mode, as they keep digging away. Encountering trickles of salty water, they know they’re close to the outside world — only the newly dug tunnel collapses, tragically killing Faria. As he dies, he gives yet another gift to Edmond — the location of the Templar Knights treasure on the island of Monte Cristo, as well as directions on how to sail there without getting caught.
Seeing how the dead are removed from the prison, Edmond hitches a ride in his friend’s burial shroud — and dramatically bursting out of the tied up, weighted down bundle — improbably swims his way to freedom. Encountering Abbé’s body in the wrong cell, the prison governor raises the alarm — but it’s too late — Edmond is free! Staggering his way to his father’s house, Edmond encounters a surly servant who tells him that his father lost the will to live after his son’s capture — and that Mercédès is married to Fernand, living in Paris. ‘He’s too late’ she opines. Doomed, Edmond takes his trusty ship, follows his friend’s instructions and wonderfully lands on Monte Cristo, unlocking his way into an underground cavern filled with gold and precious stones.
Going Phantom of the Opera/Bat Man/V for Vendetta, lurking in a basement and wearing disguises, Edmond returns as the rich, urbane, debonair and well-travelled Comte of Monte Cristo. Society is falling over itself to meet the Comte — mostly to get their greedy hands on his impossible riches. Fernand is now the Count de Morcerf, Danglars a baron and banker, and Villefort a procureur du roi (‘royal prosecutor’). All of them have high status and higher aspirations — the Comte aims to exploit their greed, venality, desire for showy status and secrets to his own ends. Revenge!
Recruiting a crew, Andrea and Haydée (Anamaria Vartolomei), the new Comte on the block has sinister motives for getting to know certain important individuals in society. Appearing as an elderly priest, a disguised Edmond speaks to Caderousse (Stéphane Varupenne), here presented as a fellow sailor and crony of everyone else, who (for the price of a jewel) expresses regret at not doing the right thing, and being a decidedly dodgy witness. Everyone has a reason for revenge, it turns out, as the Comte keeps reminding them. Andrea is the almost murdered baby, and having been placed safely in a religious school by Angèle, is rescued by the Comte. Zorro-like, Edmond as Comte, rigorously schools Andrea in how to be an Italian prince. Miss Havisham-like, the Comte is training up young people to unleash on the world and break hearts. Haydée’s family were murdered by Fernand, during his miliary exploits on behalf of Turkey, now she will lure Albert in and make him love her to his own destruction. (Even though the Comte has warned him never to do this).
Sherlock-like, Mercédès and Fernand’s son, gentle and romantic Albert is lured into a vulnerable position by a medal thief. Here’s he’s set upon by a gang — only to be rescued by the appearance of a fighting stranger. When everyone appears collapsed and defeated on the ground, they all jump back to life, unhurt, and toddle off into the night. Only Albert is left, battered — but alive.
His rescuer enquires after his health — and sets a lure in the form of enchanting Haydée. (She too has been trained by the Comte to perfection). Albert’s search for the musical talent within the Comte’s house gives us wonderful views of the opulent and fantastical property — it’s gorgeous. Like the Comte himself, it can’t be placed — and wows alongside the rather staid social gatherings of the day. Post-hunting, Andrea demonstrates what the Comte would like to do to them all, calmly dispatching a deer. Meanwhile, despite his poised swishy leather coat and stylish beard, Mercédès is shocked to learn that the Comte is a Edmond Dantès doppelganager — and can’t quite believe that he is alive. And she’s been married to a war-like man with an eyepatch all these years. Apart from her beloved son Albert, the marriage appears a social shell — empty and cold.
Carefully, the Comte starts to reel everyone in. Andrea sets to schmooze Villefort’s daughter, somewhat icky as this is his half-sister. Thankfully, even though he’s been primed for revenge, Andrea has morals and does no more than polka, waltz and quote poetry. The daughter realises that she has a tell on her hands, that he isn’t really that into her, as she is for him. As his Parisian pied-a-terre, the Comte buys the very house where Villefort tried to kill his mistress’s baby, deceiving her with the news that the very much alive newborn baby was still-born. Outrageously, the Comte holds a dinner party — and tells them all a opium-induced ghost story, leaving the women in hysterics and the men wondering how he can know what he knows. Victoria is almost driven mad with astonishment — her child is alive after all?!!
Throwing away Haydée’s testimony in court moment, instead it is Andrea who shames his father (the procurator). Rather than rescue by smugglers and second wife poisonings of unwanted family members (and a complicated secret love story), the action switches to Andrea dispatching his father in public with the same skills that he used on the deer. Only he was gentle with the deer — here it’s implied that he behaves like a butcher, inflicting maximum pain and suffering. Attempting to flee the scene of the crime, Andrea is shot and wept over by Haydée, who maybe saw him as a brother — certainly a companion and friend. It is this pointless death which makes both Haydée and (to an extent) the Comte start to question if revenge is all there is to life? (There’s deep sadness too as Victoria and her son never get to meet — and lose each other all over again).
And the reason they’re in court is due to industrial espionage and fraud. A horribly fascinated slave trader, (a real details man), Danglars has borrowed money from the Comte. Rumours suggest that his odious fleet have been lost — et voilà, they’re really still in port. Nasty messy eater Lord Halifax (the Comte’s alleged enemy, I guess a case of don’t mention the war) confirms to Villefort that all is well — only Halifax (with his smattering of English-isms) is actually the Comte in disguise. The court case accuses Danglars of manipulating the market, of pushing the price of his shares so low so that he could buy up all his stock at a massive profit. Ofcourse he has done the latter — but not the former. However, his greed has shone him up for what he is. With the aggrieved son bringing ‘the law’ against his own father, everyone begins to wonder where it will end?
With thrown gauntlets and a duel! As demonstrated in pursuing his father’s medal thief, Albert seeks to avenge his father’s honour by fighting the Comte. Who is more than happy to oblige — a virtual ‘bring it on!’ Mercédès comes to beg Edmond, not the Comte, for her son’s life — and moved by what he inspired Andrea to become, the Comte agrees. He almost seems to be willing to sacrifice himself here, being careless of his life, as he dramatically misses Albert, very much making his missed shot count.
Unwittingly, Haydée is really falling in love with Albert — even telling him to stay away from her. She also begins to despise the Comte for what he created in Andrea. Permitted by the Comte, Haydée and Albert flee to romantic safety. Mercédès leaves her horrible husband in disgust.
Building up to a sinister denouement, Fernand arrives branding a sword. Marvelously all the Comte’s servants have the day off — Fernand can just breeze straight into the Comte’s sumptuous home, straight in the door. Astonishment aside, this allows them to have the most thrilling sword fight around the stairs, statues and steps. Like Mission Impossible 2, neither will die — fighting onto the bitter end. Edmond leaves Fernand writhing with wounds — unforgiven. And jumps on his ship to new pastures, realising how bitter he’s become. Faria wanted him to use his education and wealth for good — instead Edmond has spent years not living — and never forgiving.
He does reach a kind of forgiveness with Mercédès, leaving her a love letter of reconciliation on the anniversary of their wedding day.
Pierre Niney is magnificent moving from young man with everything before him to measured and strategic Comte, who rages at God, warning him of what he’s about to do, and will never, never forgive or forget. The creation of the hidden Templar base is a marvel — the Comte even seems to lift the statue from the entrance to outside his new home. Despite some initially dreadful hair and propensity for putting women in their underwear, the later parts of the movie, set in the 1830s, are terrifically costumed. Whilst none of the leads have hats in earlier scenes, the men have gorgeous waistcoats and stylish shirts. Everyone finds their hats in a hunting scene. In a very non-period leather coat, even so, the Comte swishes around suavely and menacingly — the detailing of all his clothing mirroring his enormous tattoo — and the decorations of the Templar loot stash.
Very Gothic, it is quite a hard watch as the Comte will never forgive — he even walks away from Fernand, wounded and still unforgiving. His revenge captures innocents (such as daughters) into his net — deeming them guilty until the fourth generations, and himself as godlike, bringing retribution and justice. With Andrea’s death, his conscience starts to beat again, realising the example he’s set — and that perhaps he’s gone too far. Despite never forgiving, he is willing to show mercy — twice to Albert, for love of Mercédès. Perhaps as he sees Albert and Mercédès, he also remembers the love he once had — and how their relationship was extinguished, and rejects being like another Fernand. Hence, Albert and Haydée are permitted to flee to freedom, rather than Albert being entombed in a similar life-quashing prison.
All the convoluted sub-plots of secret illicit loves and murderous second wives (and even murderous ungrateful children) have been pruned, and some of their actions moved to more major ones. With a strong cast, Pierre Niney manages to capture both the sunshine and the brooding of Edmond to Comte, and keeps us on side to the end. Atleast, Mercédès gets a galloping around on a horse moment, even if she doesn’t get her man — or historically accurate fashion until half-way through.
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