Avaliações do Metacritic

Refusing to pander to restless derrières, they’ve given this big, bounding, beautifully cinematic swashbuckler almost three hours to breathe. Yet their pacing is so frisky — and Celia Lafitedupont’s editing so elegant — your derrière is unlikely to complain.

The Count of Monte Cristo is as much a swashbuckling adventure as it is a warning about the dangers of letting yourself get lost in the desire for things that don't matter. With a gorgeous score that uplifts every scene, making them more tense, romantic, and devastating, and sets and costumes on par with the best period pieces of the 21st century, everything about the movie is planned and carefully executed.

The Count of Monte Cristo is an energetic, entertaining treat, full of noble heroes, fair maidens, evil villains, duels at dawn, and swashbuckling sword fights.

It’s directed with verve and acted with gusto.

For much of their 178-minute running time, Delaporte and de La Patellière let us delight in the spectacle of Dantès and his associates weaving their sinister, at times mysterious web — well-positioning us for the eventual reckoning, when we’ll be thoroughly invested in all these characters and their impending fates.

This is a devilishly handsome old-school tale of treachery and intrigue that zips through its nearly three hours in a blur of swordplay, glorious costumes and prosthetic rubber facial disguises.

Delaporte and De La Patellière understand that Dumas’ type of novelistic revenge, whether froid or chaud, is best served onscreen in the most picturesque European locations, with cinematographer Nicolas Bolduc’s cameras ready to swoop and soar as needed, and paced to gallop, never dawdle.

For a good stretch of time, though, The Count of Monte Cristo is a prime example of popcorn fun, even if its filmmakers might have not intended for it to be laughed at as much as I did. But whether it’s for the right or wrong reasons, a good time is still a good time.

The Count of Monte Cristo is the kind of movie where, after 180 minutes and many, many more plot points, you walk out of the theater without having felt the time pass. That’s a good thing if you’re looking for a fairly entertaining, swords-and-puffy-shirts revenge tale — and Dumas’ novel is probably the mother of all revenge tales.

The pay-off is a fast-moving, good-looking gallop of Mission: Impossible-style mask play, languorous conniving in courtyards and occasional outbreaks of derring-do that chews up three hours without pausing for quail sandwiches.