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Monte Cristo (Film)

2019; Penn State University Press; Volume: 40; Issue: 1 Linguagem: Inglês

10.5325/eugeoneirevi.40.1.2019.0124

2161-4318

Christopher S. Murray,

Theatre and Performance Studies

This rare film, starring James O'Neill at the age of sixty-seven, marked one of the highlights of the inaugural Eugene O'Neill International Festival of Theatre in the O'Neill Irish home place. In the parlance of James O'Neill's era, the show was for one night only. As he might have ordered up himself, a brass band turned out for the occasion to play Irish airs and to salute the homecoming of the lad who had left from the nearby quay in 1850, bound for Quebec and Buffalo. It is true that James's father, Edmund, was to return by himself a few years later, aged much the same as James was to be in making the film, possibly in an attempt to regain the lost family farm. But it seems James never set foot in New Ross again, even if he did visit Ireland (which remains unclear). Accordingly, this festival enthusiastically took “homecoming” as its theme, and the speeches on stage before the showing of the film successfully created the illusion of return. These were delivered by a descendant, Alice O'Neill McLoughlin, and Richard Hayes, a distinguished O'Neill scholar from the Waterford Institute of Technology, both of whom reappeared after the film with more information on both the O'Neills from Tinneranny and the film, much to the appreciation of the capacity audience.And so to the silent film itself, Monte Cristo, entertainingly accompanied for this showing by local pianist and composer Phil Collins. The credits informed the audience that the film was “Photographed from the Library of Congress Paper Film Collections by Renocare Company,” meaning, it would appear, that it has survived a laborious process of restoration, possibly in the 1960s. A second title card recorded the copyright date of 1912 and other information. The significance of the copyright detail relates to another film of Alexandre Dumas's novel made by William Nicholas Delig that same year and released in England on December 15.The primary interest of this Monte Cristo resides, of course, in the performance of Eugene O'Neill's father. We can acknowledge that behind the film lies the play and behind the play lies the 1846 novel, written in French but promptly translated into English. The play, known as the Fechter version after the adaptor Charles Fechter but further altered by James O'Neill to suit his itinerant trade, differs sharply from the novel. More significantly, the film, without dialogue, differs sharply from the play and is cut to approximately one hour. Everything is condensed into five “parts” (reels), and the action moves swiftly by the use of cross-cutting scenes and of intertitles to inform viewers of salient shifts of plot. Time and space are freely exploited (there being outdoor as well as indoor scenes), and yet it can be said that there is unity of action, as Edmund Dantès accelerates his revenge once he has found the treasure and reaches the finale in which two of his enemies die within minutes and he can simultaneously raise three fingers (they don't call him Count for nothing) and have Mercédès unite him with his son Albert for the closing tableau. Thanks to the pianist, we could take it all without fear of post-traumatic stress.James O'Neill's performance is riveting. Everything is nonchalantly tailored to the simplified medium of silent film. James is short in stature, long in stagecraft. Way back in 1879, he was described as “of medium height, [with a] well proportioned figure, square shoulders and stands very erect. He has black hair, black eyes, rather dark complexion, a black mustache and a fine set of teeth, which he knows how to display to advantage” (San Francisco Chronicle, August 3). The first part of this description applies wholly to the O'Neill we see in the film. At age sixty-seven, he still stands with straight back, elegant and mobile as a dancer. He turns to the camera as easily as he must have to a stage audience. Oddly, perhaps, he reminded me of Jackie Gleason in his television show back in the 1960s: the same dainty mobility, the same surprising elegance. Something Irish in that, perhaps: Brendan Behan, of similar appearance, had it too.Another critic wrote of James even earlier, in 1875, that he was “a man of fair presence, of quiet, yet impressive manners and evidently of much latent power” (qtd. in Walter McElroy, preface, James O'Neill [1942], 23). “Manners” and “latent power” sum it up. He can handle any scene with aplomb. I liked best the prison scenes and those in the sea and in search of the treasure. In the former he mimed grief, despair, surprise at meeting the Abbé, and a quick transition from grief at his death to a certain insouciance during the business of replacing the Abbé's body with his own to effect his escape, the execution of which drew laughter from the audience where applause might have been more just. There is also an interesting split-screen flashback, with a bearded, long-haired O'Neill watching Mercédès marrying his youthful self. In the sea scenes, filmed realistically, we see him actually swimming—not very well—to the rocks nearby for his mimed catch-line, “The world is mine.” Subsequently, James is seen swimming at large, to be picked up by the smugglers: the business here is also impressive. And when he rows a stolen boat for the rocks of Monte Cristo, he has to manage expertly to land and tie up, take pick and shovel from the rowboat, and clamber up a rocky rise in search of the cave, pausing to consult the Abbé's map, obviously as good as a satnav, for he strikes his right palm with his left fist at intervals to express his satisfaction. Once within the cave, and digging the floor realistically, he will raise his hands to the Lord in joy at each discovery. One cannot but rejoice with him, the master of semiotics. In the final scene, required to handle a sword fight with Danglars (the equivalent of a shootout, a long way from Dumas) he does so as to the Hamlet born, or maybe a Corsican brother or two. In short, judging by this film James O'Neill was a class act.Consequently one has to say that Monte Cristo is a wonderful minor asset to the O'Neill archives, even if the film as a whole is roughly finished, as Richard Hayes conceded when he reappeared on stage to wind up the celebratory screening. The film brought James O'Neill “home” to us this night in a universal and not just a nostalgic sense. It seems strange now that Eugene should recall his father's regret at having been “ruined” by “that God-damned play I bought for a song and made such a success in.” On the contrary, we can now claim, Monte Cristo was the immortalizing of him.