Many people say living well is the best revenge. Edmond Dantes is not one of them.
That is too bad for him, because he could live quite nicely on his newfound
fortune. It is also too bad for the three French rats who did him dirty. Dantes
will have his revenge, served as cold as possible. Unlike the recent French film, series director Billie August and adaptation co-writers Sandro Petraglia
& Greg Latter lean more into the novel’s tragedy than its swashbuckling throughout
the eight episodes of the new The Count of Monte Cristo, which premieres
tomorrow night on PBS.
Dantes
is blessed with a beautiful fiancée, Mercedes Herrera, and a supporting boss,
Pierre Morel, the owner of his merchant vessel. Unfortunately, he is also
cursed with two scummy rivals. Fernand Mondego, the future Count de Morcerf, covets
Herrera’s hand in marriage, while Danglars resents Morel promoting Dantes above
him. Out of spite, they falsely denounce Dantes as a Bonapartist agent.
Initially, the local prosecutor, Gerard Villefort sees through their deception.
However, he consigns innocent Dantes to the notorious Chateau d’If prison to
coverup his late captain’s involvement Villefort’s Bonapartist father.
During
his fifteen years of confinement, Dantes is erroneously reported dead to the
outside world. Subsequently, Herrera reluctantly marries Mondego, who ascends
to the French senate after a checkered military career. Danglars also finds
wealth and a title in Parisian finance, while Villefort becomes one of the top
national prosecutors.
Dantes
also stays busy, befriending the heretical Abbe Faria, who schools the sailor
on all the social graces a proper gentleman should know, as they painstakingly
prepare their escape. He also informs Dantes of the location of a fabulous cache
of secret treasure hidden on the uninhabited isle of Monte Cristo.
Petraglia
and Latter follow Dumas reasonably closely, but their adaptation takes explicit
inspiration from the Chinese proverb: “those who seek revenge, should first dig
two graves.” In fact, they paraphrase it on multiple occasions. Not
surprisingly, that gives this Monte Cristo a distinctly dark hue.
Unlike
Pierre Niney in the recent French film, Sam Claflin never crosses swords with
any of his sworn enemies. However, he broods harder than a diamond. Weirdly,
the tall, bearded Claflin also bears an ironically distracting resemblance to
Joel McHale. However, the facial hair helps explain why nobody recognizes
Dantes, at least to an extent.
Regardless,
you have to respect the sheer seething bile Claflin projects throughout the
series. Michele Riondino and Lino Guanciale are also both roguishly charismatic
as Dantes’ allies, Jacopo the fisherman and Vampa, the former bandit. Plus, the
great Jeremy Irons perfectly personifies the Abbe’s learned fatalism.
Technically, Twenty Years After was the sequel to The Three Musketeers.
However, the previous film only told half the story of Dumas’s first D’Artagnan
novel, even though both parts of the story were shot together, Lord of the
Rings-style. War has broken out, but fighting is what the King’s Musketeers
do best. For them, spycraft and courtly treason are more dangerous in Martin
Bourboulon’s The Three Musketeers Part II: Milady, which opens today in
theaters.
The
Three Musketeers saved the King at the end of Part I: D’Artagnan, but
Athos awkwardly suspects his Protestant brother was involved. More ominously, they
conclude there must be a traitor in court, very near the King. D’Artagnan’s
lover Constance Bonacieux discovered the conspirator’s identity, which is why
she was kidnapped at the end of the first film.
Much
to his shock, D’Artagnan is also abducted by the Comte de Chalais, whose
position as the leader of the Catholic League had placed above reproach. His
henchmen cannot hold a good Musketeer for long, but when D’Artagnan rescues the
Comte’s other captive, he is shocked to find Milady instead of Bonacieux. Of
course, he is disappointed, but maybe not as disappointed as he should be.
Even
though Part I seemed to be headed in a Queen Margot direction,
when seen in its entirety, Bourboulon’s Three Musketeers is surprisingly
faithful to the Dumas novel. Part II delivers more rousing swordplay and
musketry action, while Bourboulon and cinematographer Nicholas Bolduc make
spectacular use of the Bordeaux scenery. The second film is even more dynamic
than the first, so it would be preferable to see it on a bigger screen.
The King's Musketeers and Cardinal Richelieu’s guards are all French, but
they spent a lot time fighting and killing each other. That was the early 17th
Century for you. Life was cheap, but honor was dear. The Musketeers must scramble
to save the reputation of the Queen in Martin Bourboulon’s The Three
Musketeers-Part I: D’Artagnan, the first film in his two-part adaptation of Dumas,
which releases this Friday in theaters and on-demand.
As
in the novel, this is really the story of how the three musketeers became four.
Initially, the provincial Charles de Batz de Castelmore D’Artagnan can only
secure entry into the King’s military academy, making him a cadet. While pursuing
one of the ruffians who attacked him on the road to Paris, D’Artagnan manages
to offend Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, all of whom schedule duels with him. Of
course, the trio all agree to be each other’s seconds, so all four are together
when Richelieu’s guards try to arrest them for dueling. That will be the start
of a beautiful friendship.
Soon
after D’Artagnan buries the hatchet with the Musketeers (in several of
Richelieu’s men), he finds himself racing to save his noble-born new friend
from a murder frame-up. It turns out he is the perfect man to do it, because it
involves the gang that left him for dead. Of course, their ringleader is
literature’s greatest femme fatale, “Milady,” whose boss happens to be the
Cardinal.
Her
next assignment will be stealing the jeweled necklace Queen Anne gave as a
keepsake to her secret English lover, the Duke of Buckingham. To quell the
Cardinal’s malicious rumors, the Queen must wear it at the upcoming state
wedding of the King’s brother. Fortunately, her servant, Constance Bonacieux,
has D’Artagnan’s ear (and his heart), so she can recruit the Musketeers’
assistance.
Screenwriters
Matthieu Delaporte and Alexandre de La Patelliere stay reasonably faithful to
Dumas pere, but they add a big climatic battle that looks like it could have
been inspired by the St. Bartholomew’s Day Massacre scene in Queen Margot
(also based on a Dumas pere novel). Regardless, they recreate lots of the fighting
and scheming that still makes the book fun to read over 150 years after its
initial serialization. The swordplay and musketry all look legit, which makes
sense, considering French Olympic epee fencer Yannick Borel helped train the
cast. (A sabre fencer might have been more appropriate for the props on hand,
but Borel’s techniques are surely sound with even a basic foil.)
The
casting is also terrific, starting with Vincent Cassel as the steely, righteous-in-a-hardboiled-kind-of-way
Athos. Romain Duris is physically perfect as the devout ladies’ man, Aramis,
but he has the least screen time out of the four heroes. Pio Marmai is appropriately
bear-like as Porthos, without the clownishness shtick the character is often
depicted with.
Of course, Eva Green seductive and just generally fab as Milady. Louis Garrel
makes Louis XIII surprisingly thoughtful and complex, while Lyna Khoudri’s
screen-illuminating charisma is also a real bonus as Bonacieux. Frankly,
Francois Civil has his work cut out for him keeping up with his co-stars, but that
rather fits his role as the naïve D’Artagnan. Arguably, the only real shortcoming
among the ensemble is Eric Ruf not being sufficiently sinister as the dastardly
Richelieu.
