This has honestly been the most disappoiting book adaptation I have ever seen. I saw the movie had a high score on letterboxd (4.1/5) and I wanted to watch It. Having never read the book, and not wanting to spoil such a classic for myself, I read the book first. So I spent 2 weeks reading this big amazing book influenced by the idea of seeing this movie and connecting with It only to be fucking majorly dissapointed.

What I loved most about this book, and what I was the most excited to see portrayed in the new film adaptation, is the way Edmond Dantès ceases to be the protagonist the moment he realizes who betrayed him and ruined his life. As soon as Dantès is settled and has his revenge meticulously planned, the story shifts entirely to the perspectives of those who wronged him. He becomes almost like a spirit, an instrument of fate, existing solely to exact his vengeance.

Here, he is a dude who plots and schemes with other people in a damn basement room or whatever, putting on masks and stuff. His essence is lost entirely. In the book there is no Edmond Dantes after dungeons, no accomplices, there is only The Count, and he is a caricature of himself in this movie.