by Jim Kuipers

Guest Writer

Hollywood generally favors fights and chases over contemplation and reflection. ``The Count of Monte Cristo,'' however, provides healthy doses of both.

Kevin Reynolds' film version of the classic Alexandre Dumas novel moves lithely between fast-paced swordfights and thought-provoking reflections on the nature of justice and humanity's role in administering it.

The story centers on Edmond Dantes (James Caviezel), a young sailor with a stunning fiancée, Mercedes (Dagmara Dominczyk), and a covetous best friend, Fernand (Guy Pearce). Jealous of his friend's happiness, Fernand conspires with an ambitious magistrate, falsely accusing Edmond of treason. Edmond is convicted on the spot and exiled to the ominous Chateau d'If, a fortress prison on a distant island. The magistrate then informs Mercedes that her fiancée has been executed, thus driving her into the waiting arms of Fernand.

Edmond, meanwhile, rots in prison, living only for escape and revenge. A phrase scratched onto his cell wall by a former inmate both comforts and mocks him: ``God will give me justice.''

At this point the film begins to flirt with deeper issues than simple revenge. The invocation of the words ``God'' and ``justice'' raises thorny questions about Edmond's morality. Edmond himself faces these questions later the film. Caviezel's performance in this capacity is convincing, if not wrenching.

As the trailers reveal, Edmond escapes the Chateau d'If, bent on repaying those who wronged him. But the difference between justice and revenge is murky, and his vengeance is tempered throughout the film by the characters around him.

One such character is the Abbe Faria (Richard Harris), a soldier-turned-priest whom Edmond meets in prison. Faria's unshakeable faith in God contrasts sharply with Edmond's professed atheism. Faria helps Edmond, teaching him not only to read and write, but also educating him in science, economics and other disciplines. Faria grudgingly schools Edmond in the arts of war, knowing his intentions for these skills, and cautions Edmond against vengeance. Edmond, however, seems unmoved. Admonitions against revenge persist throughout the film, continuing the contrast between revenge and justice.

Further contrast revolves around the individual's role in promoting justice. Early in the film, the exiled Napoleon remarks to Edmond that all men are ``either kings or pawns,'' implying that it is better to be a king and master of one's fate than a pawn in the schemes of others. But is it, therefore, undesirable to be a pawn in the schemes of God? Edmond never openly adopts ``God will give me justice'' as his motto, but the film certainly paints his quest for revenge as just. And Edmond's betrayers are certainly deserving of punishment for their crimes. However, his actions often seem to reflect a creed of ``I will give myself revenge.''

These contrasts present fertile filmmaking soil, yet ``The Count'' lets it lie largely fallow. The conflict within Edmond is treated very lightly, and key dialogue raises issues without elaborating on them. The distinction between justice and revenge is held up for scrutiny, but then left to dangle unresolved.

Ultimately, ``The Count of Monte Cristo'' walks a middle road between moral investigation and swashbuckling action/adventure. The result is a deft, if shallow, combination of the two which should appeal to a broad range of tastes. And though the film offers no answers to its questions, at least it asks them.