Alexandre Dumas’ adventure novel “The Count of Monte Cristo” has been adapted for the screen approximately 50 times since the same-named silent movie in 1908. In this decade alone, it’s been transformed into a Mexican miniseries, a French box office smash, and even a gender-reversed South Korean soap opera. So PBS’ latest import, a pan-European production which premiered on Swiss television two years ago, therefore needs to bring something new if it’s to swash anyone’s buckle.
The eight-part series certainly has a strong pedigree. It’s directed by Bille August, whose 1987 immigration tale “Pelle the Conqueror” won a Golden Globe, Academy Award, and the Palme d’Or; it boasts an impressive cast ranging from the prettiest Peaky Blinder Sam Claflin to thespian’s thespian Jeremy Irons; and a budget which makes all prior versions look like a school play. This is lavish period drama with a capital L.
Unfortunately, everyone involved seems confused as to whether they’re making a seminal piece of historical fiction or the type of binge-able comfort TV which requires you to leave all faculties at the front door.
Ultimately, “The Count of Monte Cristo” achieves neither.
A script which continually states the obvious (“If we can’t get through this storm, we’ll perish”), makes several unnecessary changes from the source material, and perhaps most notably, has near-insurmountable pacing issues can shoulder much of the blame. Condensing approximately 1,200 pages — initially released in 18 installments — for today’s attention-span-less audience was always going to be a tricky proposition, of course. But the show instantly makes a rod for its own back by waiting until Episode 3 to turn its hero into the Count and get all the treasure-hunting, high society-infiltrating, and Machiavellian scheming underway.
To be fair, things start promisingly enough, instantly raising the pulses with a dramatic seabound scene where Claflin’s dashing sailor Edmond Dantès — at the behest of his dying captain — must navigate their ship through a violent storm. Despite saving the day, he incurs the wrath of two ne’er-do-wells: Danglars (Blake Ritson), a fellow shipmate who’d been banking on the same promotion himself, and Fernand (Harry Taurasi) a nobleman jealous that Dantes instantly gravitated toward the object of his affections (and first cousin!) Mercedes (Ana Girardot) on his safe return.
In the first of many dastardly plots, the pair decide to frame their shared nemesis for treason, namely the act of carrying correspondence from the exiled Napoleon to his Parisian supporters. And with a little help from corrupt chief magistrate de Villefort (Mikkel Boe Følsgaard), the entirely innocent Dantès is subsequently sentenced to rot away in a maggot-infested jail miles away from dry land.
It’s here where “The Count of Monte Cristo” begins to stumble, and not just for the unconvincing wig that makes Claflin look like he’s auditioning for the sequel to “The Passion of the Christ.” The second episode is largely confined to the dark walls which Irons’ next-door prisoner, a cleric known as the Abbé Faria, has spent years trying to painstakingly chisel his way through. And boy, does he like to talk.
Indeed, the Abbé pontificates on pretty much every topic known to man as the pair try in vain to tunnel their way to freedom. Of course, as an actor who can rattle off soliloquies in his sleep, it makes sense to give Irons something to chew on. But the relentless words of wisdom, and the shouting-to-the-rafters way they’re delivered, soon become tiresome. By the time he carks it ten years into Dantès’ stretch, you’ll feel like you’ve endured a similar amount of time inside, too.
The Abbé’s final monologue, in which he bequeaths a treasure map that allows his impoverished, malnourished underling to reinvent himself as a seasoned aristocrat, does at least finally help propel the story forward. And following a neat bodybag-assisted switcheroo, Dantès finds the money, has a much-needed shave, and heads back to his Marseille hometown for the ultimate revenge spree.
Wouldn’t everyone he’d been wronged by instantly recognize him, you may wonder? After all, only a decade has passed since Dantès was wrongly convicted. And yet, suggesting the city’s upper echelons have suffered a collective bout of amnesia, he somehow manages to seamlessly ingratiate himself into their circle without a whisper of suspicion. And the Count’s hopeless lack of charisma only makes the ease in which he’s accepted even more baffling.
Dumas wrote his titular character as a man of mystique and a naturally charming presence capable of holding court with a wealth of tales from exotic locales. Claflin, however, plays him as the archetypal period drama Englishman, a low-energy emotional void who reacts to everyone from his lily-livered oppressors to the lost love of his life with a distinctly stiff upper lip.
This personality transplant isn’t the only notable deviation likely to get the book’s purists up in arms. The integral relationships ship owner Morrel (Robin Greer) fostered with the Count and love interest Valerie (Amaryllis August) are relegated to mere footnotes; de Villefort’s illegitimate son Benedetto is essentially splintered off into two separate characters; and Dantès’ romantic fate is changed entirely, with its oft-quoted closing line (“all human wisdom is contained in these two words: ‘wait and hope’”) also replaced by the kind of cliched sentiment you’d expect from the Hallmark Channel.
Even those unfamiliar with the story are likely to scoff at the new plot contrivances. For a man whose plan hinges on his changed identity, The Count seems awfully casual about disclosing his true self, for example. And although its producers promised to give its female characters more agency, the likes of Mercedes and rescued slave Haydée (Karla-Simone Spence) are still frustratingly sidelined.
“The Count of Monte Cristo” always looks the part, although be prepared that the sumptuous cinematography of the French coastline (in reality, tax haven Malta) soon makes way for countless palatial banquets with lighting gloomier than its protagonist. And the three main villains are impressively restrained compared to the cartoonish mustache twirlers that have populated previous takes.
Still, these are slim costume drama pickings. In the battle for the best of the umpteen adaptations, this mundane and entirely unnecessary retelling can undoubtedly be counted out.
“The Count of Monte Cristo” premieres on Masterpiece on Sunday, March 22 at 9 p.m. ET. New episodes will be released weekly through the finale on Sunday, May 10.
