The Count of Monte Cristo – 2024 film turned into 4-part series
Yes, it is this one (above)
not that one (below).
I described the 8-part series as “not bad but strangely flat”. Lucy Mangan’s review in the Guardian awarded it two stars, which was a bit harsh. Because it’s still a great story, and the 8-parter was fairly true to it—even if the financial shenanigans and so on are not exactly great viewing.
Which brings us to the other 2024 version, originally a very long film, and now an ironically short television series, hosted for the moment on BBC iPlayer. This one stars Pierre Niney (quiet at the back) as the titular Count, and a couple of his disguises. Mercedes is played by Anaïs Demoustier (she’ll come round and demist your windscreen, by appointment) and Anamaria Vartolomei as Haydée.
This last bit of casting felt weird with a capital eird, because if you read the book, it seems clear that Haydée is coded as a person of colour. This seemed in keeping with Dumas’ own background. But in reality, the Ali Pasha (Haydée’s supposed father) was Albanian, and the actress Vartolomei is French-Romanian, so not a million miles away.
But this is an example of how this version seems to have shaved off much of the nuance and detail of the original ripping yarn. I keep saying on these blogs that it’s an 800-page novel, but of course it’s more like 1200 pages. Inevitably, in grinding it down to around three hours, much is lost.
This is not necessarily a bad thing, of course, when it comes to adaptation. But I feel here that maybe too much is lost. A few examples:
- When it comes to the motivations and personalities of Dantès’ various enemies, these are really just sketched in. You barely have time to absorb that he’s about to marry Mercedes and that her cousin Fernand is jealous.
- The character of de Villefort’s Bonapartist father is completely excised, which makes de Villefort’s motive for jailing Dantès murky. There’s none of the poisoning that goes on in the book/other series.
- One he has escaped from prison, Dantès seems to swim straight to Marseilles and get on with things. In the novel, he is pulled from the water by smugglers and spends time working with them before uncovering his fortune on the Island of Monte Cristo. But here he just swims out to a completely empty ship and sails off, alone, in it, which seems unlikely. All of this omission means that we never learn how Dantès builds his team of allies, including Jacopo and Bertuccio.
- Also (almost completely) excised from the story is Dantès’ former employer, his children, and the ways in which Edmond helps the family when he returns.
And so forth. In other words, to keep the number of characters down and simplify the plot, a lot is removed. This extends, in the end, to the financial shenanigans and all the business with telegraph fraud and so on. Which is a shame, because these elements were all part of Dumas’ engagement with modernity.
The runaway lesbians happen offstage as well. Edmond’s duel with Mercedes son is over (kinda) nothing rather than the matter of legal fact as in the book.
But, you know, it’s complicated:
So, what? Was this better, worse, about the same? Once again, I’m afraid it fell a bit flat. It was okay, I found it watchable, but the gutting of the story means that you don’t feel the emotional punches that Dumas deals out. The moment Mercedes lays eyes on the Count is well handled, and their scenes together are effective. But the absolute desolation of the story’s end isn’t quite there. His enemies fall by the wayside, mostly, with a whimper. Only Fernand puts up a fight.
Let’s call it a 2024 draw. What this really needs is a 26-episode Rich Man Poor Man style treatment, but nobody in 2026 is brave enough to do that.
#alexandreDumas #CountOfMonteCristo




