Kevin Reynolds' rendition of The Count of Monte Cristo is a zippy little piece of entertainment masquerading as a mini-epic.

Of course, Alexandre Dumas' timeless potboiler does most of the work here; the story of a virtuous man betrayed by his best friend, consigned to an island prison, delivered by fate, and resolved to revenge remains one of the great pulp yarns of all time. What Reynolds (The Beast, Waterworld, Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves... yeesh!) brings to the table is a knack for big action, and more importantly, a facility with the shorthand of male intimacy.

As he did in his charming film Fandango, Reynolds foregrounds the ever-shifting vectors of guy-guy friendships, where jealousy and fondness intertwine, with lethal results. This sensitivity is enabled and ennobled by the heroic/anti-heroic performances of Jim Caviezel and Guy Pearce, who sinks his prosthetic teeth into the villainous Fernand Mondego with the relish of an old-school ham. Add the impossible-not-to-like Luis Guzmán into the mix, sprinkle liberally with swordplay, and you got yourself a gem.