The history of the production and release of this early feature-length version of the much-adapted novel by Alexandre Dumas, "The Count of Monte Cristo," is more interesting than actually viewing the film itself. Besides still being a relatively lengthy picture for its day and especially in the United States at five reels, it was also the first production of Adolph Zukor's Famous Players Film Company, which spearheaded feature-length films in the states beginning with their distribution of the French "Queen Elizabeth" (1912) and which would become Paramount Pictures, the biggest, for a time, of Hollywood's major studios. On top of this, it was also the reason for a lawsuit. While Zukor had secured the rights to the 1844 book, William Nicholas Selig's company, which had made the earliest adaptation that I'm aware with a one-reeler in 1908 (and which exists but I've been unable to find), undercut his production with a three-reel remake in 1912. Zukor won the case and prints of Selig's 1912 feature were ordered to be withdrawn from release, as well as destroyed, which seems to have been effective given that the 1912 film is now considered lost. Too bad, because it would be nice to compare this 1913 iteration to Selig's prior two efforts. Another result of the twin films was that the release of this one was delayed until late 1913.
As for viewing the film itself, I've had to make do with what appears to be maybe an 8mm reduction print that seems to have been transferred to VHS tape before making its way to Grapevine's DVD. Indeed, the picture quality is poor, with light tones, such as of the actors' faces, tending to be bleached, to the point that the illegibility of letters undermines that motif, and darker tones sometimes looking like spilled ink. The film is also preserved as part of the Library of Congress paper print collection, so perhaps a better restoration could be done. Regardless, it's abundantly clear that the picture wasn't worth much to look at in the first place and is nowhere near high on my wish list for making available restored silent films.
I was looking over some of my old reviews and notes of early feature-length films from 1912-1913 in preparation of this viewing, and while I tended to be curt regarding the staginess of some of them, if they're similar to this "Count of Monte Cristo," I stand by what I said. Most of the picture is in the tableau style of title cards announcing proceeding shot-scenes of little to no scene dissection and a camera largely nailed to the proscenium arch. Notable exceptions include one insert close-up of some pin that Edmond puts on Mercédès--a technique that co-director Edwin S. Porter learned way back in 1903. Another scene includes a superimposed vision--a trick Porter learned in 1902. There also appears to be a lighting change in one bedroom scene, and the footage at sea is the main reason I don't rate this as low as some other filmed plays of the day. Decent work is also done to cut back and forth between prison scenes and those of the other characters back on the mainland. When not in the waters, or at least outdoors, however, we're tormented with painted backdrops and flimsy sets so blatantly fake that this obviousness survives any deterioration or reduction in the film print. The acting is in the broad theatrical style, including by the "famous player" in this "famous play," James O'Neill, father of playwright Eugene O'Neill and who had been playing the eponymous role on stage since the 1870s, but who also clearly didn't know a lick about screen acting.
That this is so much a product of the stage, it rather defies analyzing it as a cinematic transmutation of the text. But, having recently read the book, that's the reason I came to this film Even at five reels, a lot of condensing was required, but I'm nonetheless not a fan of remaking Mercédès's son Albert also the son of of Edmond, as it seems overly melodramatic. They also skip the education required for Edmond to become the Count, although not the fortune even though it, too, doesn't really factor in to his tale of revenge in this truncated case. Villefort's father-in-law is confusingly made into his half or step brother, which compensates for the unfortunate removal of the double wedding from the novel, and Napoleon even makes an appearance--completely undermining any semblance of Edmond's claim to ignorance of aiding the Bonapartist cause. Actually, this alteration makes him entirely guilty of the crime he's imprisoned for and undermining his case of revenge. Admittedly, however, all the bowdlerizing does make for a kind of funny mad dash to the finish as this Count kills off each of his three enemies, including a swashbuckling sword fight before he raises three fingers in victory.
The main exception to this being a theatrical adaptation are the scenes at sea. It seems this was more a matter of cinematic borrowing from the first, 1908 Selig film. Avoiding the law again (this time to escape the Edison Trust), Selig's waterborne episodes were among the first filming to take place in California. Reportedly, it also appears to be where such a silhouetted scene as Dantès climbing onto seaside rocks to declare, "The World is mine!," which is not from the book, originated.
As for viewing the film itself, I've had to make do with what appears to be maybe an 8mm reduction print that seems to have been transferred to VHS tape before making its way to Grapevine's DVD. Indeed, the picture quality is poor, with light tones, such as of the actors' faces, tending to be bleached, to the point that the illegibility of letters undermines that motif, and darker tones sometimes looking like spilled ink. The film is also preserved as part of the Library of Congress paper print collection, so perhaps a better restoration could be done. Regardless, it's abundantly clear that the picture wasn't worth much to look at in the first place and is nowhere near high on my wish list for making available restored silent films.
I was looking over some of my old reviews and notes of early feature-length films from 1912-1913 in preparation of this viewing, and while I tended to be curt regarding the staginess of some of them, if they're similar to this "Count of Monte Cristo," I stand by what I said. Most of the picture is in the tableau style of title cards announcing proceeding shot-scenes of little to no scene dissection and a camera largely nailed to the proscenium arch. Notable exceptions include one insert close-up of some pin that Edmond puts on Mercédès--a technique that co-director Edwin S. Porter learned way back in 1903. Another scene includes a superimposed vision--a trick Porter learned in 1902. There also appears to be a lighting change in one bedroom scene, and the footage at sea is the main reason I don't rate this as low as some other filmed plays of the day. Decent work is also done to cut back and forth between prison scenes and those of the other characters back on the mainland. When not in the waters, or at least outdoors, however, we're tormented with painted backdrops and flimsy sets so blatantly fake that this obviousness survives any deterioration or reduction in the film print. The acting is in the broad theatrical style, including by the "famous player" in this "famous play," James O'Neill, father of playwright Eugene O'Neill and who had been playing the eponymous role on stage since the 1870s, but who also clearly didn't know a lick about screen acting.
That this is so much a product of the stage, it rather defies analyzing it as a cinematic transmutation of the text. But, having recently read the book, that's the reason I came to this film Even at five reels, a lot of condensing was required, but I'm nonetheless not a fan of remaking Mercédès's son Albert also the son of of Edmond, as it seems overly melodramatic. They also skip the education required for Edmond to become the Count, although not the fortune even though it, too, doesn't really factor in to his tale of revenge in this truncated case. Villefort's father-in-law is confusingly made into his half or step brother, which compensates for the unfortunate removal of the double wedding from the novel, and Napoleon even makes an appearance--completely undermining any semblance of Edmond's claim to ignorance of aiding the Bonapartist cause. Actually, this alteration makes him entirely guilty of the crime he's imprisoned for and undermining his case of revenge. Admittedly, however, all the bowdlerizing does make for a kind of funny mad dash to the finish as this Count kills off each of his three enemies, including a swashbuckling sword fight before he raises three fingers in victory.
The main exception to this being a theatrical adaptation are the scenes at sea. It seems this was more a matter of cinematic borrowing from the first, 1908 Selig film. Avoiding the law again (this time to escape the Edison Trust), Selig's waterborne episodes were among the first filming to take place in California. Reportedly, it also appears to be where such a silhouetted scene as Dantès climbing onto seaside rocks to declare, "The World is mine!," which is not from the book, originated.