Framed Like a Portrait and Pretty as a Picture
(originally posted on IMDb 8 September 2018)

This MGM production is easily the definitive screen adaptation of Oscar Wilde's only novel, "The Picture of Dorian Gray," about the eponymous Dorian whose Faustian bargain makes him eternally youthful as his doppelgänger portrait displays the true decay of his age and sins, although there aren't many movie versions--after reading the book, I could only find 10, counting loose reworkings. It's a gorgeous picture. There's some outstanding deep-focus cinematography and use of depth of field, complemented by the ornate Victorian-styled set design and decoration. Mostly filmed in black and white, the Technicolor inserts of Dorian Gray's portrait are stunning. Moreover, MGM hired a highly-literate director in Albert Lewin to helm the project, as well as a good cast. George Sanders as Lord Henry was an especially ingenious selection.

It's unusual and quite a treat that a major Hollywood studio greenlit an adaptation by a filmmaker who was also a professor with a masters in English from Harvard. Lewin also knew something of prestige picture making, having formerly assisted Irving Thalberg, the producer who largely made MGM the biggest motion picture production company in the world. The result is a film rich in detail and an adaptation that is uniquely literate. From the start, the film's titles quote "The Rubáiyáat of Omar Khayyám" and do so again at the end, and Dorian does so once, as well. He also reflexively quotes a poem by Oscar Wilde. (And I'm guessing that the change of Dorian's moniker from the book's "Prince Charming" to "Sir Tristan" is a result of Disney's cartoons.) Furthermore, the first scene features Lord Henry reading Charles Baudelaire's "Les Fleurs du mal," which establishes his character's immorality. He also gives Dorian the decadent "yellow book," which Wilde frequently referenced and is widely assumed to be "À rebours" (Against Nature). Meanwhile, Basil carries around "The Light of Asia," the story of Buddha, religiously. Just by what they read, Lewin established the characters of the narrative's three principal players.

Befitting a novel about art, as well as aestheticism and hedonism, this film itself is a pleasure to view. I'm especially fond of how many of the shots showcase the deep-focus cinematography by being partially framed in multi-layered compositions through doors and windows--and even the carved-out stage at the theatre where Dorian meets Sybil Vane. Dorian's ornate Victorian-designed home is full of such layering, with details remaining in focus from foreground to background, as well as through that impressive staircase. The most salient object besides the portrait is a statue of a supposed Egyptian cat god, which is mystically linked to Dorian's deal with the devil, but is not found in the novel. And, of course, the paintings stand out, especially when displayed in Technicolor snippets, with dramatic music, against an otherwise elegantly black-and-white picture. The decayed version especially is a remarkable piece of art in itself, as painted by Ivan Albright with the assistance of his identical twin brother, Malvin. (It seems appropriate that the portrait that represents the doubles theme of Dorian should've been made by twin artists.)

Hurd Hatfield was an interesting choice for the titular part, and he's quite unlike Wilde's description. His consistently stoic expression, however, somehow seems appropriate, for a character who is, initially at least, rather a blank slate for Lord Henry's influence and for Basil's personification of beauty represented in the portrait, and for a character whose sins are invisible on his face--abstracted onto the painting. The film also retains the voice of the narrator, as recited here by Cedric Hardwicke. Sanders, on the other hand, with his caddish persona and acerbic wit seems a perfect fit for the delivery of Wilde's epigrams via Lord Henry. I can't imagine a better casting, and although the likes of Colin Firth, John Gielgud, Malcolm McDowell and Anthony Perkins have all tried their hand at the part, Sanders is by far the best. I also like his Mephistopheles goatee, alluding to his being the devil on Dorian's shoulder, and the symbolic bits of business he performs, such as with catching the butterfly, while he continues his rapid-fire quips. It's a performance that rivals his turn in "All About Eve" (1950), for which he won an Oscar. He probably should've received another for this, although Angela Lansbury was the only performer to receive Academy recognition here.

My only qualm with the film is its depiction of Dorian's romances. Gladys is a needless invention of the movie, who rather reverses the ending of the novel. As well, Sibyl is altered from Wilde's Shakespearean actress to a singing ingénue, thereby blundering the self-reflexive potential of the book as a play-within-a-play and an actress playing an actress. Subsequently, the element of Dorian's love for her being an artistic illusion is forfeited--something that originally nicely mirrored the artistic illusion of innocence of Dorian's eternal youth. Yet, this change does provide the film to make an indisputable reference to fornication. Contrary to what some have claimed, that scene alone makes it more explicit regarding Dorian's sins than is the novel, which also relies on suggesting rather than explicitly stating the details of Dorian's depravity, including what most assume to be gay subtext, or at least epitext due to its author's orientation. I dare say that Lewin improves upon the source text in a few particulars, as well. The opium den sequence with the discovery of "Sir Tristan" is better explained, for one.

This is a literate picture, beautifully framed by its production design, a piece of art in its deep-focus images, complete with some fine acting deserving of the adaptation of a novel by one who was more renowned as a playwright.

(Included in my ranking of 10--and counting--Motion Pictures of Dorian Gray.)