Photo courtesy Spyglass Entertainment Group
Edmond (Jim Caviezel) and Fernand (Guy Pearce) duel to the death in "The Count of Monte Cristo." The film opens today.
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By Mark Betancourt
Arizona Daily Wildcat
Friday Jan. 25, 2002
It isn't always necessary to compare films to the literature on which they're based.
Film requires a different approach to story and character than the written word can afford, and may even contribute nuances of imagery and musical expression to complement the original text.
Usually, however, it's a marketing thing.
Spawned from the unorthodox, trans-century creative partnership of classic novelist Alexandre Dumas Sr. and the director of "Waterworld," Kevin Reynolds, "The Count of Monte Cristo" interestingly blends old-time literary wit with today's American values.
For those who hadn't noticed, today's American values are big on revenge.
Things are looking up for Edmond Dantes (Jim Caviezel) when his kind old merchant employer promotes him to ship's captain, which translates into: economic means to marry. Edmond and the lovely Mercedes have that rare, pure kind of love - and now that he has a job, that's OK.
But then, Edmond is locked away in the island prison Chateau d'If on a trumped-up treason charge, having been betrayed by his best friend Fernand (Guy Pearce). Then things pretty much slow down for Edmond.
Edmond spends 13 years in prison, where he meets an old priest, who educates him in economics and sword fighting alike. Before the priest dies, he gives Edmond a map that will lead him to the hidden treasure of Monte Cristo. The priest warns him, however, not to use the treasure and his new knowledge for revenge, but for good. Edmond then cleverly manages to escape with a little help from the priest's corpse.
Up to this point, the movie is almost completely faithful to the book. The cool part about both novel and film is how Monte Cristo goes about ruining his enemies, in most cases using their own greed and treachery against them.
The film's difference from the classic is in its simultaneous "Disneyfication" and "DieHardification." The ending doesn't need to be given away, but let's just say it's happy. The novel's ending is somewhat happy too - but a different, more complex kind of happy.
Dumas made Monte Cristo witty, and his novel told the story of a sweetly ironic revenge that turned the evil against themselves. In the novel, Edmond does use his title as Monte Cristo to do good in the world as well as reap his revenge, even giving his enemies a chance to redeem themselves.
Reynolds' Monte Cristo, on the other hand, becomes a cold-hearted revenge machine, and in perfect compliance with the wishes of the average American audience, he must have blood to complete his vengeance. "Ruin the enemy?" says the 12-year old in the third row. "Yeah right!" says his mom. "Kill them all!"
It's not that the novel isn't about revenge, or that it wasn't part of a genre widely criticized as base entertainment by its contemporaries when it was first written; but it's got some good human stuff in it.
The film version has some good sword fights, blood squirting out of people's bodies, and amusingly 21st-century slang. And yes, it's cool.
But what about what the priest said? What about not using knowledge and power for revenge? "Not today," says America.