The Count of Monte Cristo

It is often considered to be an especially touchy piece of literature to convert. Yet, while Kevin Reynold's film interpretation of The Count of Monte Cristo has certainly had its fair share of lambasting, especially from those passionate about Alexander Dumas' work, the average viewer will find that the film never tries to proclaim itself as authentic. Rather, the tagline on the outer casing pretty much pins the filmmakers' intentions on their sleeves; "Prepare for Adventure. Count on Revenge".That said, as long as one makes certain that the story's 'core' of revenge is handled well, then the rest should simply fall into place. And if there's one area that this film excels in, it is in bittersweet revenge.

After reluctantly agreeing to carry correspondence from Napoleon back to France, the dashing, yet humble, Edmond Dantes (Jim Caviezel) is betrayed by his jealous friend Fernand Mondego (Guy Pearce). Mondego, who has long harboured desires for Dantes' fiance, abuses Dantes' ignorance of what is actually contained within the letter and has him arrested for treason. Dantes soon finds himself in Chateau d'If, an isolated prison from which escape is impossible. Revenge and belief in the divine are the only thoughts that occupy his mind during his first few years within the grim walls of Chateau d'If. It is just as his hope begins to wane, however, that the mysterious Abbé Faria (Richard Harris) appears in his cell by way of a misguided tunnel through the floor. Soon Faria has Dantes reading, writing and sword fighting, as all the while the pair continue work on another tunnel.

After his escape, Edmond seeks out the treasure of Enrique Spada and soon, after becoming one of the richest men in the world, changes his name to the Count of Monte Cristo - thus truly setting the wheels of revenge in motion.

One would tend to assume that the words 'rollicking' or 'swashbuckling' would soon claim their place here, but in reality The Count of Monte Cristo is no more fuelled by action than David Lynch's Mulholland Drive is by logic. With the exception of the two relatively major sword fights, the film is far more entrenched within the area of period/costume drama. In this case, the emotional development of the characters is far more important than their trickery with a sword.

Jim Caviezel's eternally pained expression works well for him in the role of Edmond Dantes, a man betrayed and literally left for dead for a large portion of his adult life. Likewise, the bitter and pompous shoes of Fernand Mondego are aptly filled by Guy Pearce's ever-malleable character skills. The inclusion of Luis Guzman is just plain weird though. Even though he is one of the finest bit-part performers of recent memory, he sticks out like a red raw appendage; it's almost as if he's based his entire screentime on subliminally communicating the feeling that he really shouldn't even be there. The biggest problem, however, is that some may find the performances too wooden in general, even though it's quite clear that this method has been optioned in an effort to convey period authenticity. When one considers that the primary themes running throughout this film are revenge and jealousy, then the rather sour expressions worn by all involved seem more appropriate.

In the end, it's the commendably lavish visual style that is the film's biggest drawcard. While it's no Barry Lyndon, director of photography Andrew Dunn has made similarly excellent use of available light situations to give the film an unmistakable period quality. Be it a hazy office or the magnificent cliffs of Chateau d'If, the story places just as much of an emphasis on each location as it does the characters within.

If you're expecting some sort of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon take on this classic tale (which you could certainly be forgiven for after giving the cover a once over), then it's likely that you will be quite disappointed. On the other hand, if you happen to possess the rather specific preference towards period revenge dramas, then you couldn't really put a foot wrong with The Count of Monte Cristo.

Far from the crystal clear transfer one would have expected, The Count of Monte Cristo comes to us with a much softer presentation than most users will be used to.

Due to the fact that much of the film has been shot in darker than usual conditions, the transfer here has a difficult time keeping grain levels up to scratch. This is also true for many of the scenes shot in daylight. Conversely, this constant tends to give it more of a traditional film look, which also helps compliment the film's atmosphere in many ways. However, if you're expecting the same sort of crisp video attributed to most high-profile recent releases, then you may find this presentation a little disappointing.

Shadow detail is generally very good within the many low-light sequences, although things tend to get a bit hazy when we move to some of the candle-lit interiors. Where the filmmakers have actually opted to use any, the colours on display are magnificently authentic and are reproduced well on DVD. Aliasing is never really a problem, however there are a few small film artefacts spread throughout the presentation.

Overall, the DVD may be a little too soft and dark to warrant comparisons anything else in your collection, but the end result is an interesting transfer that complements the film's subject matter quite well.

For such a new film, the soundtrack presented on this DVD is a little disappointing. The film comes with a complete Dolby Digital 5.1 mix, however, it is used to very little effect within the film. Dialogue is thankfully clear throughout, and the few action scenes certainly come across effectively, with the appropriate clanging of swords and ye oldé gunfire. While the subwoofer comes into play every now and then, adding to the bottom end of the score and helping to beef up some sound effects, one will soon discover that the surround channels are almost entirely wasted. For the most part they are simply used to fill out Edward Shearmur's score. In other areas they are also used for some minimal ambient noise, however, rarely are they used for any kind of directional activity.

It's surprising to see such a healthy set of extras attached to The Count of Monte Cristo, but it's certainly a nice indication that distributors seem to be aiming a lot higher of late.

Audio Commentary - A detailed and informative commentary from director Kevin Reynolds. He is enthusiastic, yet refreshingly frank about his work, talking almost constantly throughout. Worth a listen if you're interested in the process.

Deleted Scenes - Four deleted scenes running for around 12 minutes. Each scene has an intro describing what they had intended to achieve with the scene and why it was eventually cut from the film.

Sword Choreography - Home video footage of the actors and stuntmen practising the sword choreography featured so slightly in the film.

En Garde: Multi-Angle Dailies - This is raw footage of the final fight scene between Dantes and Mondego. It is presented via three separate angles running for three minutes a piece with the third angle using two windows to compare the first and second. It is accompanied by a succinct commentary from director Kevin Reynolds discussing the nuances of multi-camera shooting for action scenes such as this.

Layer by Layer: Sound Design - A five minute scene taken directly from the film with four switchable audio tracks isolating elements of the sound design; dialogue, sound effects, music and final edit.

Not entirely bad, yet not entirely brilliant either, The Count of Monte Cristo will hold greater rewards for the extremely patient. The misleading allusion to massive swashbuckling may burn a few viewers, but most will find themselves too caught up in Dantes' lust for revenge to really care. Whether this satisfaction is complete by the rolling credits, however, will depend on the individual.