Dorian Gray

I have to confess that it has been a decade or so since I read The Picture of Dorian Gray, and that was while unwisely swallowing all of Wilde’s works at once, minus what poems I didn’t read as an antidote to the density and blame-shifting that permeates De Profundis. So while I went on to write a dissertation on his self-presentation and consider myself a great admirer of his works, I found that I didn’t recall every detail of Wilde’s only published novel.

Pleasing, then, that in many ways this adaptation was much more faithful than I had predicted, in the structure and plot if not tone or characterisation. There were major changes, of course, but I had expected an adaptation with very little in common with its source. This relative loyalty did not, however, stop this from being a very poor film, neither so ridiculous that it was hilarious to watch, nor good enough to be enjoyed in its own right.

The Picture of Dorian Gray has never been an easy work to adapt. As a novel, it has never been very good. Essentially, three aspects of Wilde (identified by him as his young and pretty would-be self (Dorian), the way the world saw him (Wotton) and the way he really saw himself (Basil)) stand in a room and in that mannered Wildean way, exchange quips from different moral standpoints. Over this pseudo-naturalistic framework is laid a rather contrived gothic supernatural scenario that, along with the homicidal drama that follows from it, never sits well with the rest. Wilde never managed to mesh the high melodrama of Salomé with the bright wittiness of his other plays, and Dorian Gray was the uneasy result. The high drama never has the build-up or fall-out it requires.

The trailer of this new version made it clear that the gothic elements would be highlighted, Wilde reimagined for the Twilight generation. Not such a bad idea, I thought – if done well. Unfortunately, that meant either caution had to be thrown to the wind and the cleverness of the original ejected, leaving an exuberant mess, or it had to be far subtler than the trailer suggested, with such fresh and snappy one-liners as ‘If I told you, I’d have to kill you.’

Well, there is certainly no subtlety here. Cliché abounds in painful amounts. Want to make a character more sympathetic? Chuck in some child abuse flashbacks! Despite establishing them as being bred for Victorian society and conversation, you want to show them as naïve? Well, put their bow ties on in such an exaggeratedly lopsided way that it looks like mirrors haven’t been invented! Homoerotic tension? Screw that – nothing says debauchery like actual gay kisses. And you know what? Nothing makes a serious film like high-speed trains that can appear out of nowhere, apparently making no noise in the tunnels, and chances to say last words to mangled bodies!

But while these would be gleefully funny in a bad film, obviously working with some very intelligent source material is going to elevate things just a little. Colin Firth’s performance as Henry Wotton, while his character is simplified somewhat, is excellent, reflecting the character’s ingeniously manipulative but cowardly mind, and the kid from Prince Caspian made a good Dorian, attractive and believable both as ingénue and as a monster in an ill-fitting body. Solid acting in supporting roles, impressive aging makeup, beautiful mise-en-scène and some of Wilde’s best witticisms brought the film up just enough for the hopeless parts to disappoint rather than amuse.

Films about the Victorian era after all thrive on subtlety and the importance of appearance. That’s the central point of the novel. To drown a mannered drama in simplified comic book depictions of opium dens, hedonistic parties and brothels destroys all charm and elegance, and saturated in 2009’s trends, this adaptation will date very, very quickly.

Credit where it is due, though – in one respect the film improved on its source drastically. Arguing about having a child, rather than that patronising conceit about an actress losing all her talent because she is in love? Much better.