Review The Count of Monte-Cristo

« The 2024 adaptation of Alexandre Dumas’s The Count of Monte Cristo, directed by Matthieu Delaporte and Alexandre de La Patellière, stands as a showcase of French heritage cinema.

While adaptations of the work have been numerous, this version manages to set itself apart from the others. Rather than relying solely on the drama of betrayal and the metamorphosis of Edmond Dantès, the filmmakers employ grandiose visuals and rhythmic editing to mirror the protagonist’s own master plan.

The film’s technical success lies in the fact that it does not merely "illustrate" the book, instead, it translates the theme of revenge, rendering it both accessible and gripping with suspense and plot twists. The film’s visual is often a stark contrast in lighting and color grading that defines Edmond’s transition from innocence to obsession of revenge.

In the first half, the lighting is naturalistic, dominated by the warm, golden shades of the Mediterranean and high-key lighting.

It represents a man with a future that can be great.

However, once Edmond is incarcerated in the Château d'If, the colors are suddenly darker.

The cinematography by Nicolas Bolduc shifts toward a cold, monochromatic blue and gray.

This isn’t only to show a "sad" environment; the technical choice serves to emphasize the appearance of the stone; the texture of the walls is heightened by side-lighting that casts large shadows.

This lighting choice effectively hides the character long before his escape, establishing a visual effect of claustrophobia that persists even after he becomes a billionaire. From the moment Edmond emerges as the Count, the technical focus shifts to shot composition and the use of space to convey power.

The directors employ "frame within a frame" techniques, shooting the Count through doorways or ornate mirrors.

This serves as a dual function: it highlights the Count as a master puppeteer observing his prey, but it also suggests that he is a prisoner of his own plan.

Despite his wealth, the camera often traps him in tight frames that feel cold and lifeless.

Unlike the fluid, handheld movements used during his youth, the camera movements associated with the Count are slow, mechanical pans.

This technical rigidity mirrors the loss of his humanity; he has become a machine of revenge, and the camera emphasizes this transformation..... »