Elena Raicu

In The Count of Monte Cristo (1844-1846) and A Room with a View (1908), Alexandre Dumas and E. M. Forster take their characters on a double journey, one that is both geographical and initiatory, which can be seen as one unitary voyage. Already an experienced travel writer by the time he publishes the story of Edmond Dantès, Dumas introduces in his novel entire passages reminiscent of his trips in Italy, France and the Mediterranean Sea. In his turn, Forster tries to describe Florence from the perspective of a British tourist, who is narrow-minded and superficial, using ironical speech to this effect. In addition to these geographical journeys, the two writers also guide their heroes in a physical and spiritual coming of age, in finding and accepting themselves.

Considered to be one of the best English-language novels of the last century, A Room with a View by E. M. Forster (1908) is firstly a Bildungsroman, being centered on the discovery made by a young woman –Lucy Honeychurch– of the world, of herself and of romance, and secondly, a critical portrayal of the English society. The novel was adapted for the screen twice: in 1985, based on a script by Ruth Prawer Jhabvala, and again in 2007, with the help of screenwriter Andrew Davies. The first film adaptation follows closely the original storyline, but Davies chooses to tell the same story from the main character’s point of view, as she recollects the past in a post-WWI period. While the innovation is welcome, in terms of form, it also changes in an unfortunate way Lucy’s life after the events of the novel and goes on a path which is different from Forster’s in A View without a Room (1958). Although this new ending might be the first noticeable difference between the two adaptations, they actually represent two quite distinct views of one story. The 1985 film adaptation meticulously illustrates the English society of the beginning of the 20th century and does justice to the Italian atmosphere used as a background in the first part of the story. Then, while clearly having Lucy Honeychurch as its main character, it delineates with great care the other characters as well. Their actions are justified by their thoughts, and all of these are defined by their personalities. This is not the case with the second adaptation, which focuses mainly on the heroine and emphasizes her sexual awareness. The other characters lack substance and are not always convincing in their roles, but are present only insofar as they come in contact with the heroine. The Italian and English societies are also pushed far in the background of the story. This is a one character-story. Therefore, if we are to consider that a film adaptation presents the story as seen through the lenses of the society contemporary with the filmmaking, we can justly ask ourselves what these two adaptations of A Room with a View tell us about the last part of the 20th century and about the first years of the 21st century.

Available online at: https://cve.revues.org/2302

Martin Buber’s I-Thou theory on existence from 1923 can be applied to the 2011 film The Artist, in order to reveal a way to understand the main character’s evolution throughout the movie. George Valentin goes on a symbolic journey of self-rediscovery, which can be explained using the two relations presented by Martin Buber: I-Thou and I-It.
According to Buber, each person is looking for the eternal Thou (meaning God) and in this quest he is experiencing various relations, which define him as a person, with the people and objects surrounding him. I-Thou is a direct relation, from the present, where the Thou can be a person or a thing, while I-It is a relation existing in the past, based on knowledge (or analysis of a once Thou).
Silent movie star George Valentin enjoys a happy I-Thou relation with his audience, along with some I-It relations. His world collapses not with the arrival of sound, but with the comprehension that he lost the audience’s love. From this moment on, he is condemned to live in the past, until he is able to engage himself in another I-Thou relation (with Peppy Miller, a rising star of the talkies).
Reducing George Valentin’s story to the two types of relations that he engages into makes it easier to see how his identity is defined by his role in society and his connections with the other characters. Having everything in the beginning, he loses everything - fame, career, fans, wife, butler, love - and is on the verge of losing his life too (once accidentally and a second time through an attempting suicide). By himself, he is nothing but a reflection of a once famous actor - an idea illustrated in a very subtle way in the scene when, wandering on the streets, Valentin stops in front of a shop window and ‘tries on’ an elegant suit. The lost of his Thou forces him to withdraw from the world, driving everyone away. His only hope is to find the courage to acknowledge his true self in front of him and in front of the world. He finds this courage with the help of Peppy and is now freed from the limits imposed by the lack of an I-Thou relation. Finding his identity, he welcomes sound (=change) into his life and the movie transforms itself from a silent movie into a talking movie.

The Count of Monte Cristo appeared, under the pen of Alexandre Dumas, in 1844 and has been a favorite of the seventh art during the past century, not only in its homeland, but also across the globe. But from novel to the big or TV screen, The Count of Monte Cristo lost some or more of the complexity and depth of Dumas’ story.
Just like movies are not a faithful rendition of real life, but a selection of moments from real life, film adaptations are a selection of moments from the origin novel. The time factor has its say as well: it is difficult to imagine a faithful and complete transposition of a lengthy novel into a movie of 120 minutes or even into a TV series of 4-6 episodes. It is understandable that there are sacrifices (of characters, scenes, lines) to be made, not taking into account the alterations or additions brought by the vision(s) of the screenwriter and director. But what happens when these sacrifices affect maybe not the direct and most visible meaning of the novel, but the more subtle message of the author?
One of the most often sacrificed characters of Dumas’ novel is Haydée, Ali Pasha’s daughter, sold as a slave by Fernand Mondego and finally bought by the Count, and raised, under his guidance, in accordance with her rank as a princess. Screenwriters either diminished Haydée’s role, presenting her more as a shallow character, or eliminated her completely from the story. Although she is not a frequent appearance in the novel, her role in the story weighs a lot more than that of many other characters. Through her, the Count accomplishes his vengeance on Fernand Mondego, but most important she is the one that brings him back to life with her love and devotion.
Edmond Dantès, as Count of Monte Cristo, considers himself an unerring agent of Providence, whose mission is to bring divine justice where human justice has failed. Therefore, he leaves behind any human emotion that would prevent him from following his path. Dehumanized, only a few characters can reach to his heart: Mercédès, Maximilien Morrel and Haydée. Whereas Mercédès and the Morrels are connections to the past, Haydée represents his future, as it is revealed in the last chapter of the novel. Although sure of the love and gratitude of Maximilien, he is ready to leave this life and go back into the shadow of death. The only thing that stops him is the acknowledgement of Haydée’s love, which he understands as a reward from God. With her at his side, he can face life again, with all of its sufferings and joys. He is reborn again, this time leaving his destiny into the hands of God, and finally learning that “all human wisdom is summed up in these two words, wait and hope”.
Instead of letting Haydée honor her role, screenwriters have come up with various alternatives. Most of the times, whether with Haydée present or absent from the story, Dantès finally reconciles with Mercédès, with whom he finds happiness (the 1998 TV series and the 2002 movie). In one other case (the 1975 movie), the screenwriter decided to punish Dantès for his thirst for revenge by making him lose Mercédès, while Haydée was aiming only to punish Fernand Mondego for betraying her father.
As these examples show, although probably faithful to their own vision of the story, the screenwriters deprived the main character and the entire story of their depth and fundamental message.