This is easily the most obscure – judging also by the poor quality of the print obtained – offshoot of the Alexandre Dumas perennial "The Count Of Monte Cristo" with, unsurprisingly, a totally meaningless title and a cheapjack production (by the ubiquitous writer/producer team of Jack Pollexfen and Aubrey Wisberg) into the bargain! Ironically, out of the five films related to the tale I have watched in the last few days, it is the only one in which that character has made a personal appearance – but, given, his embarrassingly doddering state here (inaudibly egging a coachman on to hasten the journey towards the scene of a duel between his philandering son - which had already provoked a catfight in a tawdry nightspot - and slighted best friend, yet fainting as soon as he is on his feet from all the excitement
not to mention eventually expiring from a mere broken heart over his heir's apparent ingratitude!) really does him no credit!!
Incidentally, rather than appropriating the famed treasure for themselves, the trio of villains – two of them off-springs of Edmond Dantes' old enemies and the sole survivor, Dan O'Herlihy's wily Danglars – they determine to have the son convicted of a staged murder (one would think a change of tactic was in order so as not to immediately give themselves away
yet The Son Of Monte Cristo himself seems blissfully unaware of their identity here!?), while obtaining his signature in prison, so that his estate can then be sold off to third parties and rendering the old man's legacy obsolete!! The plot does get inordinately complex for this type of fare: characters not only repeatedly feign to be someone else, but even take turns hiding under bandages (one of the biggest laughs here has the man posing as the hero being first pierced through with a spear then literally climbing over a balcony to exacerbate the drama of his demise with a fall!).
While protagonist Robert Clarke leaves much to be desired (naturally, the female member of his antagonistic trio becomes thoroughly besotted by his charms and has a change of heart – but whose final clinch is bafflingly interrupted by a toast being given in another room of the Monte Cristo location by utterly peripheral figures!), the 73-minute film is watchable for the participation of William Schallert as a drunken solicitor (also in cahoots with Danglars et al) and particularly O'Herlihy – clearly playing a man older than his real age, yet looking far sprightlier than the Count himself! – who lends his usual gravitas to the often silly and all-too-familiar proceedings (he also has a way with words, nonchalantly instructing a loutish innkeeper memorizing his deceitful speech to the young Dantes not to "vomit" the words!). In conclusion, I have three further adaptations of the original source to go through (from 1922 with John Gilbert, the renowned 1929 3-part French Silent version, and an 8-hour 1966 Italian TV mini-series), may be able to get my hands on one more (also French but dating from 1961, with Louis Jourdan) as well as yet another Pollexfen/Wisberg spin-off (the 1949 noir THE TREASURE OF MONTE CRISTO)
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