Dorian Gray (2009)

Dorian Gray
2009
Rated R
1 hr. 52 mins.
Momentum Pictures/Ealing Studios
Directed by Oliver Parker
Starring Ben Barnes, Colin Firth, Ben Chaplin, Rebecca Hall

A corrupt young man somehow keeps his youthful beauty eternally, but a special painting gradually reveals his inner ugliness to all. [IMDb)

When Oscar Wilde wrote his one-and-only novel (“The Picture of Dorian Gray,” published as a novella in “Lippincott's Monthly Magazine,” 1890; and in longer form one year later), it’s fair to say he had no idea that it would remain so permanently threaded in the fabric of society. Wilde’s novel is a shrewd commentary on culture’s perception of–-and obsession with–-youth and beauty, which is all the more poignant today's society than it was in the late-Victorian era. To this day, if someone seems to be defying the inevitable aging process, we pause to wonder: “Do they have a painting in their attic?” 

There have been scads of film, TV, and stage adaptations of what is considered Wilde’s most popular work–-barring his extremely clever and witty stage plays, namely “The Importance of Being Earnest”, “An Ideal Husband”, and “Lady Windermere’s Fan’. Arguably, the most well-known feature-length film version is Oliver Parker’s 2009 “Dorian Gray”, which stars Ben Barnes in the title role, Colin Firth as the dastardly Lord Henry Wotton, and Ben Chaplin as the ill-fated portrait painter Basil Hallward. Before we delve into the various themes Wilde focused on in the novel and how those play out on the big screen, I’ll provide a plot synopsis. Naturally, the film does differ from the book in several major ways, but essentially all the moving pieces are present and accounted for: 

Dorian Gray, a naive and sheltered young man, inherits the estate of his deceased grandfather turning him into a proper English gentleman overnight. He is immediately befriended by the upper echelon of Victorian London, developing a fast friendship with the much-ballyhooed portrait painter Basil Hallward. Through Hallward, he is introduced to Lord Henry Wooton, who becomes the architect of Dorian’s downfall. 

Although Dorian is keenly aware he possesses staggeringly good looks, his personality initially lacks conceit and his morals are safely intact. Everything changes as soon as the cynical and acid-tongued Lord Henry opens his mouth to spew his nihilistic philosophies on life. Events are triggered when Hallward’s finished portrait of Dorian is revealed. Lord Henry posits that unlike Dorian, the painting will never age. He asks Dorian if he’d be willing to bargain his soul in exchange for everlasting youth. Dorian admits he would. And, as if by some mischief or magic (neither Wilde or the 2009 film explain precisely how), Dorian’s soul and the painting become enmeshed. From that moment on, he stops aging and soon begins to notice that the portrait is aging in his place.

Ben Barnes in the role of Dorian Gray (2009)

Throughout the book and film, Dorian is extremely suggestible and easily led by Lord Henry’s silver-tongued philosophies. He warps the young innocent's mind for sport. In no time, Dorian takes on Lord Henry's penchant for partaking in society’s hedonistic pleasures–including opiates, heavy drinking, and prostitution. Early on, Lord Henry thwarts Dorian’s engagement to a naive young actress, who commits suicide when the marriage is called off–-an event that will haunt him for the remainder of his life. From here on, Dorian’s personal character shifts dramatically. 

Firth and Barnes in Dorian Gray (2009)

Under Lord Henry’s influence, Dorian slips into the rabbit hole of seedy London nightlife. With each misdeed and exploited vice, his portrait ages further–-taking on hideous characteristics that visually represent his evildoings. Both horrified by his strange new reality and desperate to make sure his bargain is kept, he hides the portrait in an attic chamber. In his most desperate act, he murders Hallward when the unwitting painter discovers the truth about Dorian’s ageless beauty. 

Decades pass, and Dorian has become a pro at leading a double life; but that doesn’t mean his reputation hasn’t suffered nor stopped people from gossiping about his ever-youthful appearance. From here, in what is the most obvious deviation from the source material, Dorian seeks redemption by falling in love with the principled daughter of Lord Henry. So distraught by their impending union, Lord Henry seeks to uncover Dorian’s secret, finds the painting, and confronts Dorian, who chooses to sacrifice himself in order to save his friend and the woman he had hoped could save him from himself. 

Moral of the story, simply put, an obsession with youth and beauty ultimately leads to the corruption of one’s soul. As Wilde wrote: 

“Behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic.”

Let’s take a few moments to consider this theme, along with others presented in both the film and the book and apply them to the climate of late-Victorian society. Wilde lived during what was perhaps the most hypocritical era of Western history. On the surface, Victorians were moral and upright; extremely guarded in all personal matters; critical of others who dabbled in anything labeled taboo; and bound by strict and convoluted rules of social etiquette. The irony being, more often than not, these same Victorians were addicted to legal and illegal substances; frequenting houses of ill-repute; having extra-marital affairs or keeping mistresses among other less-than-moral behaviors. (One glaring for instance: Let’s not forget how quickly the invention of modern pornography followed the invention of the camera.) “The Picture of Dorian Gray” was, and remains, a statement on how if one scratched below the surface, they’d find a very different Victorian society underneath. Beauty is, after all, only skin deep. 

Chaplin and Barnes in Dorian Gray (2009)

We can delve even deeper into the hypocrisy of Victorian society by examining another theme Wilde weaves into his narrative through subtle references and allusions to the main male characters’ sexual preferences. From dialogue alone, it’s all but certain that Hallward is in love with Dorian. Contemporary readers may have interpreted his effusiveness and obsession with Dorian as the passion an artist might have for his muse. However, more obvious allusions to Hallward’s love and lust for Dorian were edited out of subsequent editions of the novel both by Wilde himself and his publisher. 

Why the anticipatory censorship? We must remember the time in which the book was written, and that Wilde was living a double life himself. Married, but engaging in relationships with men--not unlike many men in the Victorian era who did the same and kept each other's secrets. Wilde chose to reveal through clever subtext and passing anecdotes that Dorian, Lord Henry, and Hallward were all engaged in same-sex liaisons–and, more than likely, with each other. (For example, the novel contains a subtle reference to Dorian and Lord Henry sharing a house while vacationing in Tangiers--a destination known to be frequented by gay men during the Victorian era--with purposeful intent.) 

While Wilde was restricted from using this theme overtly because homosexuality was illegal and subject to criminal conviction, the film does a thorough job expressing it. Under Lord Henry’s influence, Dorian engages in many types of sexual encounters. In today’s vernacular, he would most likely be considered pansexual. How these encounters are represented on film, however, does warrant some criticism. It’s not that the various acts that take place in the film didn’t exist at the time; they certainly did. Hell, the Victorians probably invented some of them. But, I do question the emphasis and screen time given to these encounters. At times, it does seem gratuitously presented for the sake of shock value and eroticism rather than for the purposes of moving the plot along or defining character. That being said, while those scenes are shocking, they are sexy and erotic, as well as artistically filmed and edited. 

Barnes en flagrante delecto in Dorian Gray (2009)
I'd show you others, but they're simply NSFW. This was the tamest of the lot.

I do wonder what Wilde would have thought if he’d been able to watch this adaptation. Would he have thought it was a bit over the top? Or, would he have applauded the freedom the filmmakers used to interpret his work? We’ll never know, of course; though, I do tend to side mostly on the latter. A final word on the subject: It is terribly sad to think that “The Picture of Dorian Gray” was used against Wilde's personal character in a court of law. Having faced multiple convictions and imprisonment, he ultimately fled England and died penniless and alone in Paris. In 2017, owing to the Alan Turing Law, Wilde along with approximately 50,000 men, was pardoned posthumously for homosexual acts once considered criminal offenses. 

Barnes as Dorian Gray confronts his demons.

Now, back to the film and how it differs from the book. Naturally, any literary work is going to require changes for cinematic adaptation. The problems with “Dorian Gray” are not so much to do with those plot device changes, but with the very awkward editing, pacing, and artistic choices. At times, it feels as if the filmmakers were too focused on making the movie visually stimulating (which it is) while ignoring their responsibility to the plot. They were also hyper-focused on what was then called “Gothic”, better known today as “horror”, aspects of the story. These rather cheesy, gruesome special effects, in my honest opinion, cheapened the look of the film, as well as the overall message. Make no mistake, “The Picture of Dorian Gray” is a fantasy with supernatural and early-horror overtones, but it is first and foremost a literary commentary on the superficial nature of society; how an obsessive interest in youth and beauty will lead to corruption; an allusion to the myth of Narcissus; and an indictment on the hypocrisy of repressed Victorian views. While the film did a great job of visualizing those themes, it fell short in giving them the weight of Wilde’s intent. 

(Scroll for more style comparisons.)

With respect to art direction, this film is a veritable feast for the eyes. From set dressing to costuming, everything feels authentically–and sumptuously–Victorian. The wardrobe team was definitely doing their due diligence when it came to dressing Dorian. I’ve no doubt they modeled the look on the author himself, using portraits taken of Wilde, namely those by photographer and lithographer Napoleon Sarony, for inspiration. (In addition to the image shown to the left, I’ve put together a small collection of examples to prove my hunch. Scroll to the end of the posting for a look.)

And, finally, some observations about the acting performances. For those of you who prefer to imagine Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy, look away. You won’t find him here. Firth is pure evil as Lord Henry, and you will surely hate him–-proving only that Firth is, no surprise, a great actor. Ben Barnes, who bears little resemblance to the book description of Dorian, is the quintessential picture of youth and beauty. He’s breathtakingly handsome, so it’s easy to understand why he has all of Victorian London captivated. His portrayal, given the confines of the script and what was done in post in terms of editing, is laudable. He transitions from a naive young man to an evil monster with dexterity and believability; and somehow manages to make you feel sympathy for what becomes a truly loathsome and grotesque character. But this seems to be Barnes’ forte, judging from his other roles; he has a knack for finding the humanity in any character, no matter how morally gray. Aside from Firth and Barnes, the other character portrayals are incidental and nothing to write home about. 

Overall, "Dorian Gray" is an entertaining, if unreliable adaptation of Wilde’s work. Watch it for entertainment value, but not for the basis of writing your book report. ;)

***

Comparing Oscar Wilde's Personal Style 
with the Costuming Choices for the 2009 Film "Dorian Gray"

(Sometimes, a picture really is worth a thousand words.)

Production stills and screen captures property of Momentum Pictures/Ealing Studios. 

Text and Edits by Nicola Delacoeur. 

Far from the Madding Crowd (2015)

Far from the Madding Crowd 

2015 PG-13 1 hours and 59 minutes Based on the novel by Thomas Hardy Directed by Thomas Vinterberg Starring Carey Mulligan, Matthias Schoenaerts, Michael Sheen, Tom Sturridge, Juno Temple

In Victorian England, the independent and headstrong Bathsheba Everdene attracts three very different suitors: Gabriel Oak, a sheep farmer; Frank Troy, a reckless Sergeant; and William Boldwood, a prosperous and mature bachelor. [IMDb]

Imagine this if you will…you’re a young, single, educated woman in late 19th-century England (Dorset, to be precise). Your parents have passed, you’ve no prospects and you’re living on a small piece of land belonging to your aunt. Sure, there’s a lovely, uncomplicated shepherd living nearby, who tries to sweep in and make you his bride, but you tell him you’re too independent to marry and it’s unlikely he’d be able to tame you. In just the first 10 minutes of the 2015 adaptation of Thomas Hardy’s Far from the Madding Crowd, we learn that our heroine Bathsheba Everdene is a bit of a unicorn. She is way ahead of her time–partially because of who she is as a person and partially because of the fate that awaits her.

In short order, Bathsheba inherits her uncle’s estate–a large farmstead–which means this independent-minded woman becomes truly a woman of independent means overnight. This twist of fate makes her a rarity among Victorian women, most of whom weren’t permitted to do very much at all without a man’s permission. So, Bathsheba's circumstances are quite unique, especially in sleepy Dorset. She takes to farm management with gumption and innate skill, turning the failing venture into a booming success. Some of that success is owed to her former sweetheart, the shepherd Gabriel Oak, who still holds a torch for Bathsheba but keeps his feelings close to his vest. 

While Gabriel toils away, ever the loyal friend and worker, two other men pursue his unrequited love interest. Yet, he handles these suitors with grace and restraint; this is played subtly and beautifully by Matthias Schoenaerts. You get the sense he’s watching life play out in front of him but is unable to participate. There is a solemn, yet palpable sadness in his demeanor and no utterances of his enduring heartbreak. 

Just as sympathetic is the wildly wealthy William Boldwood, played by Michael Sheen. William was jilted early in his life and never entertained the idea of joining his heart to another…until Bathsheba. When he falls, he falls hard. And, it’s really hard to watch because it’s played so heartbreakingly well by Sheen. His longing for Bathsheba turns from a hopeful second chance at love to act of desperation. Having glimpsed a future he never thought he’d never see come to fruition only to watch it flit away was a bridge too far for this broken-hearted suitor. He descends into a quiet mania and meets an unfortunate fate. But, I wouldn’t expect anything less from Hardy as he’s known for eviscerating the hearts and minds of his readers.

Just when we’re certain Bathsheba won’t marry because, after all, she doesn’t need to–she falls headlong into the biggest mistake of her life. Enter Sergeant Frank Troy, a soldier in the Queen’s army who’s nursing a bitter and broken heart after his sweetheart leaves him at the altar (or so he thinks). Frank finds his way to Bathsheba’s farm and in literally no time at all elopes with her, much to the chagrin of her two former suitors. Frank is bad news, plain and simple. He has an angry streak, he’s reckless, he’s a drunk, and he's a gambler. Bathsheba really hit the jackpot with her choice of husband, a mistake that we assume will cost her everything she owns, as well as her self-respect. 

But, as chance would have it, Frank disappears after learning that his former sweetheart, who hadn’t jilted him after all and was carrying his child, died just after giving birth. With Frank presumed dead, it seems Bathsheba can reclaim her life, but is now strapped with the many debts her husband left behind. Boldwood attempts to remedy those debts by proposing marriage a second time, but again -- and in true Hardy style -- fate re-emerges in a most unexpected way.  I could tell you how it ends, but I’ve revealed enough to whet your appetite. This film is required viewing for any literary bookworm and period piece enthusiast. Carey Mulligan is a triumph as Bathsheba. She’s entirely believable as the strong-willed, independent, intelligent, capable Victorian heroine we want to see succeed. She’s supported by a cast of suitors who you will root for, ache for, and despise. As for production value, Far from the Madding Crowd is a feast for the eyes. The cinematography is a thing of beauty to behold. To be honest, I had shied away from this film for many years–mainly because I’d been burned by Hardy decades earlier in college having been assigned to read Jude the Obscure. I will never forget that depressing, miserable experience for the rest of my life and wasn’t keen to tread those waters again. I’m glad I reconsidered and finally sat down to watch this adaptation. I won’t lie to you, I did have a good cry for a long while after the credits rolled, but in this case, it was well worth the tears. 

Jane Eyre: The Last Best Adaptations (2006 & 2011) and a Plea for the Future

For the purposes of this article, I won’t be diving into the early film or TV adaptations. (Yes, this omits the much-beloved 1943 classic starring Orson Welles and Joan Fontaine. Haters gonna hate.) There have been dozens of filmed adaptations made over the last 100 or so years, but the focus of this post is to demonstrate how we haven’t seen a quality feature-length film in 13 years or a first-rate TV movie/miniseries in at least 18 years. Case in point:

Most recent feature-length film adaptations of “Jane Eyre’: 

• 1996: Charlotte Gainsbourg and William Hurt
• 2011: Mia Wasikowska and Michael Fassbender

Most recent miniseries or TV movie adaptations of “Jane Eyre”:

• 1983: Zelah Clarke and Timothy Dalton (miniseries)
• 1997: Samantha Morton and Ciaran Hinds (movie)
• 2006: Ruth Wilson and Toby Stephens (miniseries)

Most recent stage adaptation of “Jane Eyre”:

• 2015: National Theatre Live (UK); Madeleine Worrall and Felix Hayes

The last best feature-length, widely distributed film adaptation and made-for-TV miniseries, in my humble and honest opinion, are: 

Jane Eyre
2011
PG-13
2 hours
Focus Features
Directed by Cary Joji Fukunaga
Starring: Mia Wasikowska and Michael Fassbender

Jane Eyre
2006
PG
3 hours and 50 minutes
BBC
Directed by Susanna White
Starring: Ruth Wilson and Toby Stephens

 

A young governess falls in love with her brooding and complex master. However, his dark past may destroy their relationship forever. [IMDB]

Of the recent adaptations of Charlotte Bronte’s groundbreaking novel, “Jane Eyre,” I’m partial to the 2011 feature-length film and the 2006 miniseries. Both versions take some liberty with the source material, but this is forgivable given the translation from book-to-screen and there is nothing too flagrant in disregard for Bronte’s vision to be worked up over. So, if you haven’t seen these versions, you can relax and enjoy. Production-wise, each of these adaptations looks perfect–from location choices, set dressing, costume, hair and makeup–it all works. The actors in the lead roles are well cast and extremely adept at portraying these extremely complex characters. 

Of the two versions, the on-screen chemistry between Jane and Rochester is best portrayed by Ruth Wilson and Toby Stephens. Theirs is a deeply romantic and tactile representation of our ill-fated couple. I remember watching this miniseries and balking at the overt level of intimacy, finding it (at first) a bit over-the-top. It had been some time since I’d re-read “Jane Eyre,” so I pulled out my Bantam Classics edition and, much to my delight, found an awful lot of kissing for a couple of repressed Georgians. What I enjoy about Wilson’s and Stephens’ chemistry is that we get to see at length how much fire there is between this man and woman–a palpable desire and attraction that breathes some life into their very bleak collective existence. (It is, of course, short-lived. It wouldn’t be a Bronte novel if there wasn’t tremendous suffering to be endured.) The only time we really get that level of physical intimacy between Wasikowska and Fassbender is their all-to-brief tryst after getting caught in the rain immediately following the unexpected proposal. It’s one of few scenes where we get to enjoy their representation of Jane and Rochester as a couple before everything goes tits up, for want of a better phrase. 

Each of the Janes are well cast and handle their responsibility to portray this much-beloved icon of early feminism with aplomb–which is no small feat. Both deliver with the precise amounts of certitude, forthrightness, gumption, self-respect, personal duty, and misery beheld by our cherished heroine. Of the two performances, I admit to preferring Wilson’s just a shade more. Wilson is consistently good in any role and she delivers Jane’s best lines with a passionate yet staid decorum. 

As for the Rochesters, well…honestly, we do have ourselves an embarrassment of riches here. Both Stephens and Fassbender are intense actors who aren’t afraid to take on dark, morally gray characters and play them with the requisite rawness they require. Stephens’ portrayal is a bit softer and more dramatic than Fassbender; his is a Rochester we’re not terribly used to seeing–one who's more comfortable with revealing his emotions. Fassbender’s portrayal leans toward the more intense, aloof, deeply traumatized, and rage-filled Rochester we recognize from the original work. His delivery of “I could bend you with my finger and my thumb. A mere reed you feel in my hands. But whatever I do with this cage, I cannot get at you, and it is your soul that I want” will leave you equal parts disturbed and broken-hearted.

Both of these adaptations are wonderfully and lovingly appointed. I think it’s clear from watching them that the directors felt the weight of their responsibility to produce films of quality, and with great respect for the author’s work. Naturally, much of that credit goes to the screenwriters (Sandy Welch for the 2006 miniseries and Moira Buffini for the 2011 feature-length movie), whose jobs were no small task. No pressure at all to craft a well-organized adaptation of one of the best-known books in English literature and have the resulting iteration be compared against dozens of adaptations that came before without being labeled derivative. Luckily for them, they more than very much pass muster. 

All of this said and done, it’s been over a decade since we’ve seen an adaptation of “Jane Eyre” on the big or small screen. I wholeheartedly and passionately believe it’s time to revisit Bronte country and let a new crop of filmmakers and actors try their luck.

If I had my shot at dream casting, it would look like this: 

Jane Eyre: Emma Watson

Mr. Rochester: Ben Barnes

Mrs. Fairfax: Julie Walters

St. John Rivers: Max Irons

Blanche Ingram: Lily Cole

Bertha Rochester nee Mason: Eva Green

 

Who would you like to see in the next big screen adaptation of Charlotte Bronte’s “Jane Eyre”? Tell us in the comments section. 

 

LEND YOUR VOICE: Consider lending your signature to this online petition to cast Ben Barnes in two Brontë classics. 

Petition: Cast Ben Barnes in these Brontë Classics Now!

It’s been a while since we’ve had new adaptations of “Jane Eyre” by Charlotte Brontë and “Wuthering Heights” by Emily Brontë. 

I speak for many when I say there is no better actor to portray the male lead in each of these neo-Gothic classics than Ben Barnes (Shadow & Bone, The Punisher, Westworld, The Picture of Dorian Gray, etc.)

One of Barnes’ most recent roles in the Netflix adaptation of Leigh Bardugo’s Shadow & Bone fantasy series showcases his innate ability to tackle complicated, morally gray characters in a period setting. 

Imagine Barnes delivering memorable and moving lines such as:

“I have a strange feeling with regard to you. As if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly knotted to a similar string in you. And if you were to leave I'm afraid that cord of communion would snap. And I have a notion that I'd take to bleeding inwardly. As for you, you'd forget me.” (Mr. Rochester, “Jane Eyre”)

"Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living. You said I killed you--haunt me then. The murdered do haunt their murderers. I believe--I know that ghosts have wandered the earth. Be with me always--take any form--drive me mad. Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! It is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!” (Heathcliff, “Wuthering Heights”) 

On behalf of the millions of devotees of the Brontë sisters’ works, English literature, cinema, and Barnes’ acting prowess, I appeal to filmmakers to give moviegoers the adaptations they want and deserve to see. 

To sign the petition, please visit: Cast Ben Barnes in these Brontë Classics Now!

The Invisble Woman ~ 2014

The Invisible Woman
2014
Rated R
111 minutes
Starring Ralph Fiennes, Felicity Jones, Kristin Scott Thomas, Tom Hollander
Directed by Ralph Fiennes

At the height of his career, Charles Dickens meets a younger woman who becomes his secret lover until his death. [IMDb]

A scant two years prior to my entering college, the juicy morsels of Charles Dickens’ private life surfaced in a then-new biography by Claire Tomalin. When I studied his work at university, the details of his messy separation and his secret relationship with Nelly Ternan were a hot topic. From what I understood, Dickens was no picnic to be around. He was believed by many to be temperamental, vindictive, ego-centric, and insensitive – all of which was counter to the literary works he produced and his philanthropic habits. So naturally, I expected to encounter an unlikable Dickens in the Ralph Fiennes-directed film The Invisible Woman.

There is certainly enough evidence, especially regarding the details of Dickens’ cruel treatment of his wife prior and post separation, to prove or deny the historical accuracy of this depiction. Fiennes does do a fine job painting the popularized image of the famed author with a deft brush. He captures the man’s genius, which garnered adoration not entirely dissimilar to that of today’s A-List celebs. But, perhaps, he’s treated too reverentially in this portrait…because there’s really no getting around his dirty laundry.

Felicity Jones, who portrays Dickens’ young mistress (she was 18; he 45 when they met), brings us a brooding and haunting performance of a woman forever pursued by the ghosts of her past. She does a good job of expressing the conflicts of her unique relationship with Dickens. At first, she balks at the idea of being the other woman, but through no lack of encouragement on her family’s part (specifically her mother, played by Kristin Scott Thomas, who saw Dickens as a financial shelter for her struggling family), but eventually she acquiesces into what clearly becomes devotion.

The film does offer us an interesting peek into Dickens’ private life, but I’d recommend reading some of the historical accounts to gain a fuller perspective. On its own standing though, it’s a fine period piece that’s satisfyingly engrossing.