The Count of Monte Cristo

Rated TV-14 • PBS/PBS Passport

Alexandre Dumas’ 19th-century novel The Count of Monte Cristo is one of history’s most popular, having been adapted dozens of times across stages, airwaves, and screens. PBS’ new series, spread over eight episodes, is a fairly faithful representation of the classic tale of one man’s quest for justice in a world that has left him for dead.

This adaptation boldly begins in medias res, with viewers introduced to The Count of Monte Cristo with a tor­turous confession made by its titular character: “I fear I have forsaken God.” Betrayed on the eve of his wedding, the young sailor, Edmond Dantès, was branded a political traitor and whisked away in the middle of the night to the notorious French island prison, the Château d’If, where he spent 15 years in misery.

Now returned to society as the mysteriously wealthy Count of Monte Cristo, he is determined to seek revenge upon those who stole the best years of his life. The priest that Monte Cristo is speaking to pleads with the count to take a different path—to forgive, lest his heart harden such that it may never love again. But these entreaties fall upon deaf ears.

PBS’ adaptation succeeds on many fronts. The production design is fantastic, from Dantès’ castle prison to the treasure hunt on the island of Monte Cristo to the illustrious opera house and mansions that the count inhabits as he plots his vengeance. Jeremy Irons makes for an excellent, charismatic Abbé Faria, lifting the despondent Dantès’ spirit and elevating his mind while he is imprisoned, teaching him to contemplate the glory of the treasure he may find upon his escape.

If the chemistry between Dantès and his fiancée Mercédès suffers in comparison to the 2002 film adaptation, the series makes up for this deficiency by asking all the right questions about who was responsible for Dantès’ fate and who should suffer the consequences. The Count of Monte Cristo exercises incredible fortitude and patience, suffering the friendship of those who had cast him aside so that he might better lead the architects of his former misery, in ever-mounting suspense, into the traps they have set for themselves with their various misdeeds.

Sadly, it is not only the Count of Monte Cristo who has forsaken God in this quest for retribution. Devotees of Dumas’ novel will be disappointed in the show’s departure from a Christian conception of providence. In the book, Monte Cristo sees himself as an avenging angel of God’s wrath, but one who also comes to realize the need to forgive others as he himself stands in need of forgiveness.

In the show, Monte Cristo explicitly states that he does not believe in providence in the religious sense, but rather in an impersonal force of destiny that “will ensure justice.” When questioned as to how he could consider himself the instrument of such a force, he merely storms off without reply. True to form, there is no grace offered to any of the major perpetrators of injustice, and the finale’s vague nod toward the healing power of love is underwhelming.

By contrast, the final words that Dumas penned for Monte Cristo reflect his hero’s ultimate submission to divine providence: “Never forget that, until the day comes when God will deign to reveal the future to man, all human wisdom is contained in these words: Wait and hope!”