The same friend with whom I watched The Three Musketeers and The Count of Monte Cristo was all hitting a third Dumas adaptation on a separate evening. So, in order to keep the time periods symmetrical, we watched one made between the other two: 1998’s The Man In the Iron Mask.
I had seen this movie only once before, when it was actually out in theaters, and I can say that my opinions on it have changed in almost everything except that I am still in love with Jeremy Irons. Hilariously, with the five year gap between watching the two musketeer movies the first time around, I didn’t notice that Irons plays the role Charlie Sheen plays in the 1993 film. The casting directors were clearly reading different books.
Speaking of which, both films definitely made me want to read them, especially considering the different dynamics between the characters in each. If you consider all the comparative casting, the only characterization that’s truly similar is Gerard Depardieu and Oliver Platt as Porthos and, in the sole case of the four, Platt does better despite the much worse dialogue.
One of the big factors that changed in my assessment between ’98 and ’10 is Leonardo DiCaprio. I was not the world’s biggest DiCaprio fan at the time – please remember it was just one year since Titanic had hit theaters, and I was irked by everyone’s assumption that, as a teenage girl, I should be in love with Jack Dawkins. (Victor Garber was much better looking, I always thought, if we’re being shallow.)
But as he’s gotten older, I’ve come to respect DiCaprio as an actor. (The Departed helped a lot.) And now that my opinions of him have changed, it’s interesting to go back and watch this performance, or set of performances, with what he’ll become in mind. It’s still not staggering acting, but it’s not a movie that allows for staggering acting. Even so, it’s remarkable how clearly he distinguishes the brothers with small choices and details; he almost looks physically different in each part. There’s some real craft even in the middle of a movie this silly.
(Also, Peter Sarsgaard is in it! I was happy to see him, even if in such a minor role.)
This is not to say all the acting was stellar. Besides Depardieu, Judith Godrèche was a hot mess. I wasn’t thrilled with her in L’Auberge Espagnol either, but in English she’s just wretched. And Gabriel Byrne, as he so often does, approaches a role that is fundamentally silly with a hand-wringing earnestness that seemed occasionally out of place. (His character kills an assassin by using a rapier as a thrown weapon. Hand to god. That should be your sign, Mr. Byrne, that your movie is fundamentally silly.)
The filming is also fairly lackluster, if serviceable. It’s blandly pretty without being at all distinctive; it could be one of a dozen Hollywood costume dramas from the sets and the cinematography. Still, there was nothing objectionable, really, just nothing that grabbed me as a viewer.
Still, between Irons and DiCaprio and a decent if mediocre screenplay, it’s an entertaining hour or two. Neither as good as the one, nor as bad as the other, this third Dumas adaptable falls squarely in the “Well, it was okay” camp for me.
Rating: C+ A few merits kick it up beyond average, but on the whole, a decent if unremarkable film.
The Exploding Macguffin 