Admittedly, it is difficult to adapt a classic novel for the big screen faithfully while still achieving a massive box office explosion. Some directors have managed to break this mold, but often times something falls short and the production slides into a slow and unpopular feature or towards the Hollywood action schlock that so many literature loyalists detest.
The Man in the Iron Mask does neither. Instead it renders a brilliant work of literature into a poorly paced, overly stylistic, weakly cast and unfaithful film that leaves even the most unabashed fans of its A-list stars feeling wretched and devalued.
At the start, we are introduced to a number of characters who serve as the participants in a triangular love affair which drives much of the picture. King Louie XIV (Leonardo DiCaprio) wants after a guardsman's fiancée, and to reach this goal, he orders the young soldier to death on the frontlines in perfected biblical David vs. Uriah fashion. This sets off papa Athos (John Malkovich), who blames Captain D'Artagnan (Gabriel Byrne) and conspires with fellow musketeers Aramis (Jeremy Irons ) and Porthos (Gerard Depardieu) to dethrone the arrogant king.
Thus the story begins to unfold as Aramis decides to rescue Louie's long-lost identical twin with the hope of manipulating a replacement king who looks exactly alike. Everything goes awry when D'Artagnan suspects a trap, and the retired swashbucklers must duel their way out of tense situations with the hopes of finally deposing the monarch who they so detest.
Broadly speaking, this premise seems quite reasonable, yet The Man in the Iron Mask fails perhaps the greatest litmus test for an adapted work of literature from a period not definable as particularly modern: authenticity.
In fact, the moment Louie first opens his mouth, this weakness becomes shockingly evident. DiCaprio delivers each line as Louie (and twin Phillipe) with a plain American English accent that completely misfires alongside the far more ideal approach championed by Irons and Byrne in their respective roles. Depardieu speaks quietly so much so that he is often extremely hard to understand, and Malkovich pretends to be a musketeer while in reality just playing himself.
With everyone shaky in their roles, there are few characters who can truly be appreciated outside D'Artagnan, who hides a number of secrets surrounding his connections to the twin princes until the film's conclusion. Byrne puts forward a strong performance in a role that requires restraint, and so his casting ends up frustrating viewers looking for a hero. By the movie's end the main character is MIA, and it seems as though each musketeer is struggling for the limelight opposite Byrne, whose role is not meant to be anything other than a secondary one.
Although the last 30 minutes is filled with combat, each battle sequence feels overly stylistic and not grounded in the sphere of reality. For example, near the film's conclusion all the musketeers charge Louie's riflemen inside a French prison castle. Despite being hit by at least two bullets each, the heroes walk up and strike a ridiculous pose in front of the king's troops to suddenly earn their respect, causing Louie to lose all support. Then D'Artagnan attempts to fight in a non-lethal manner, disarming the guards with nonsensical moves and slashes to the arms that do not even appear to have been filmed properly (soldiers flop over stupidly when hit).
One plus is that the film has a brilliant soundtrack, yet even this cannot make up for the crushing disappointment in cinematic quality and line delivery. Director Randall Wallace deserves credit for trying to adapt such a major work of fiction, but this does not excuse him from doing a responsible job with it.
Simply making a movie that is flush with famous celebrities does not make it brilliant, and hopefully studios looking to approach the book in future attempts will learn from this weak silver screen mishmash.
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