The relationship of novels to films is a difficult one. If you see the film first, it is often difficult to bring yourself to read the novel. If you read the book before you see the film, it is often difficult to restrain yourself from crying out over every inaccuracy, missing character, or different interpretation of a beloved story.
This is perhaps most easily demonstrable by the success of Peter Jackson's "Lord of the Rings" trilogy, which was almost entirely faithful to the story, and where it wasn't, it was clear that the films were nevertheless treating the books with the utmost respect.
It will help you, perhaps, to understand my attitude towards Dorian Gray, if I explain that I was nevertheless disappointed when LOTR made such Hollywood-ian concessions as the cutting of Glorfindel in favour of Arwen - and if you don't know what that means, and it seems unnecessarily picky, then that's my point.
Dorian Gray then.
It's fair to say that even going into this film, I wasn't expecting a faithful translation of Oscar Wilde's excellent novel "The Picture of Dorian Gray", and the reason was this: the actor playing Dorian, Ben Barnes, had the wrong hair-colour: he is dark, where Dorian should be a fair-haired Adonis. Now, again, this may seem overly picky, but given that appearances are so central to the story, it's a move that already opens up a gulf between film and novel.
Having said that, I was impressed with Ben Barnes's handling of the role. He succeeded in being at conveying, through his expression, both an optimistic innocence and depths of cruelty, which is pretty far to come, since he was terrible in that travesty of a film, "Prince Caspian". He was so good, in fact, that I began to feel that the decision to cast him as Dorian Gray may have been justified.
Good too, was Colin Firth, who became positively King Lear-like towards the end of the film, even though he sported a ridiculous-looking moustache. Whether it's because he is too familiar a face to suddenly acquire a moustache, or whether it was an inexpertly finished fake one I'm not sure, but I do know that it bothered me throughout the entire film.
The actresses played less full a part, and I do remember thinking that even the ones who were meant to pretty simply weren't that beautiful, but I guess this is an over-exposure to generic Hollywood beauty as much as anything else.
No, on the whole, the acting is pretty good, which surprised me. Where this film goes wrong - and it does go wrong - is in its Hollywood concessions. Countless times during the film, I found myself arms outstretched, appealing to the gods to explain to me why on earth the director had made such a decision.
Let me expand: "The Picture of Dorian Gray", for those of you who haven't encountered it, is the story of a man who, through strange chance, becomes connected with an excellent painting of him, by an obsessed and fashionable painter called Basil Hallwood. This connection means that he will never age, always retaining his innocent, perfect features, any corruption or change instead being transferred to the picture. It is an examination of a man who believes rather too much in the philosophies of his friend, Henry Wotton (a wit and critic of his age who espouses hedonism in order to shock the guests at respectable dinners). Freed by the picture from the accountability that the inevitable corruptions to his person, both tangible (such as diseases such as pox), and less so (a cruel curl to his lip), Dorian slides into true hedonism, until his picture is so hideous that he is unable to look at it.
The story is a vehicle for the examination of physical appearance as it relates to vice, as well as the corruptible nature of innocence once there is no way of holding it to account. Dorian needs no reason, but the amusing suggestions of Henry, to become the most depraved of London's denizens, because the over-riding reason is simply that he can. It is an examination of souls, and how linked they are to our appearances.
That's the book, but the film raised a lot of questions in me:
Why would you give Dorian a horrendous childhood, which lessens his accountability for his later cruelty?
Why would you make Henry Wotton an active part of his corruption, taking Dorian to his first hells, rather than the passive role he plays in the book, once again lessening Dorian's own accountability?
Why, having killed off the love interest in the book, would you give Dorian a whole redemption storyline, complete with its own love interest, that definitely isn't in the book.
Why would you turn the picture into some kind of monster all on its own, that seems to be working against Dorian, once again removing blame from him?
Why would you have Dorian explicitly make a compact with the devil, rather than give a mysterious twin agency to Basil and Dorian's own wishes - such a decision only acts to further decrease the subtelty, and resulted in Basil's crucial line, "I think I have put rather too much of myself into it [this painting]" being entirely omitted.
If it's not clear by now, the film does everything it can to make Dorian's descent understandable, so that he is still a likeable character. But this cheerfully disregards the whole point of the novel, and thus the story. It weakens the whole premise for the plot, and in my opinion, weakens the film as a result.
By this and by the opening of the film with a vicious murder which Dorian only performs towards the end of his corruption, the film adopted a tone of condescension. It was apparently unwilling to believe that there are people who could watch a story which wasn't standard Hollywood fare. The director clearly felt that unless Dorian's corruption was diluted by suggesting causes, and unless we had a love-interest at all times to make the film feel safe, the audience would be totally unable to watch the film. As it was, it was a frustrating hash of Wilde's novel, removing much of the narrative force in the process.
Having said that, as a film, it wasn't bad. Mystifying decisions and the director's need to babysit the audience aside, it was pretty enjoyable. Just not the heavy-weight it could have been. It was pretty chilling in places, and it did well at conveying a sense of unease. London at the turn of last century really came to life, feeling more realistic, immediate, and threatening than a lot of period dramas manage, even if, by the end of the film, I did begin to feel that all the slums of London were confined to only two streets.
There was certainly enough action, enough creepiness and enough going on to justify the film, although it was perhaps a little long at just under two hours. It was clear, however, that the director also got very carried away with the titillation of the film, as Dorian's respectable parties - with respectable guests - began to turn into the same kind of orgies that he was conducting in a clandestine manner. Once again, this lessened Dorian's corruption by implying that everyone indulged in similar pursuits. Anyway, the net result of this was that there was quite a lot of 19th century sex in the film, although this film was only a 15, with all that that entails.
This attitude to the parties of the aristocracy was the first hint that liberties had been taken with the historical setting, but it was hardly all-pervasive. I do, however, have to mention one particularly perplexing scene, which just wouldn't have been possible without birth control - Dorian speaks with Sybil Vane, his fiancée, stating that he would like to wait before having a family - yet they have already had sex. He speaks as though they have control over when they should start thinking about when to have a family - and the fact that Sybil is already pregnant gives this whole conversation the lie - it is impossible for them to choose the time, in a world without effective birth control. Clearly, this is nit-picking, but it was rather a jarring moment nevertheless, and it was also unnecessary.
So then, what did I think, and would I recommend it? I'm not sure, and that, I think, is telling. Despite all my criticisms, and despite its very loose relationship with the book and my own pickiness, I didn't hate it or feel like I wasted two hours on a rubbish film. It certainly wasn't a decent adaptation of "The Picture of Dorian Gray", but for all of that, when I wasn't cursing the director's decisions, it wasn't bad at all. I just wonder why directors feel that they have to put their own stamp and changes onto a work so carefully crafted as "The Picture of Dorian Gray" evidently was. There should be a test: "Are you as good an author as the man who wrote the original? No? Then either leave the plot alone or do something else."
It's not crying out to be seen, though I can recommend it more heartily if you're not familiar with Wilde's novel. If you find yourself with a spare evening, and there's nothing else on, you could do far worse than see this. Just don't expect it to be accurate, either in its representation of 1890s London, of Wilde's original story, or in its history.
Dramatic, stylish, and aggressive, rather than accurate, suspenseful and intellectual.
-Nelson
Extra Punctuation
MovieBob: Intermission
Experienced Points
First Person
Miracle of Sound: Encore
Exploding Barrels
Loading Time
No Right Explanation
Backchat
Drinking Games
Escape to the Movies
Escapecraft
Escapist Podcast
Feed Dump
GinxTV
Jimquisition
LoadingReadyRun
Mahalo
Meatbag and Co
Media Sandwich
Miracle of Sound
No Right Answer
Pro-Gamer Gauntlet
Reviews
Space Janitors
Tales from the Table
The Big Picture
The Escapist Presents
The Retro Show
Trailers
Unskippable
Zero Punctuation
Max Payne 3 Review
Company of Heroes 2
XCOM Enemy Unknown
Black Ops 2
Diablo 3 Review
TERA Review
Firefall Beta Preview
Starhawk Review
Critical Miss
Name Game
The relationship of novels to films is a difficult one. If you see the film first, it is often difficult to bring yourself to read the novel. If you read the book before you see the film, it is often difficult to restrain yourself from crying out over every inaccuracy, missing character, or different interpretation of a beloved story.
This is perhaps most easily demonstrable by the success of Peter Jackson's "Lord of the Rings" trilogy, which was almost entirely faithful to the story, and where it wasn't, it was clear that the films were nevertheless treating the books with the utmost respect.
It will help you, perhaps, to understand my attitude towards Dorian Gray, if I explain that I was nevertheless disappointed when LOTR made such Hollywood-ian concessions as the cutting of Glorfindel in favour of Arwen - and if you don't know what that means, and it seems unnecessarily picky, then that's my point.
Dorian Gray then.
It's fair to say that even going into this film, I wasn't expecting a faithful translation of Oscar Wilde's excellent novel "The Picture of Dorian Gray", and the reason was this: the actor playing Dorian, Ben Barnes, had the wrong hair-colour: he is dark, where Dorian should be a fair-haired Adonis. Now, again, this may seem overly picky, but given that appearances are so central to the story, it's a move that already opens up a gulf between film and novel.
Having said that, I was impressed with Ben Barnes's handling of the role. He succeeded in being at conveying, through his expression, both an optimistic innocence and depths of cruelty, which is pretty far to come, since he was terrible in that travesty of a film, "Prince Caspian". He was so good, in fact, that I began to feel that the decision to cast him as Dorian Gray may have been justified.
Good too, was Colin Firth, who became positively King Lear-like towards the end of the film, even though he sported a ridiculous-looking moustache. Whether it's because he is too familiar a face to suddenly acquire a moustache, or whether it was an inexpertly finished fake one I'm not sure, but I do know that it bothered me throughout the entire film.
The actresses played less full a part, and I do remember thinking that even the ones who were meant to pretty simply weren't that beautiful, but I guess this is an over-exposure to generic Hollywood beauty as much as anything else.
No, on the whole, the acting is pretty good, which surprised me. Where this film goes wrong - and it does go wrong - is in its Hollywood concessions. Countless times during the film, I found myself arms outstretched, appealing to the gods to explain to me why on earth the director had made such a decision.
Let me expand: "The Picture of Dorian Gray", for those of you who haven't encountered it, is the story of a man who, through strange chance, becomes connected with an excellent painting of him, by an obsessed and fashionable painter called Basil Hallwood. This connection means that he will never age, always retaining his innocent, perfect features, any corruption or change instead being transferred to the picture. It is an examination of a man who believes rather too much in the philosophies of his friend, Henry Wotton (a wit and critic of his age who espouses hedonism in order to shock the guests at respectable dinners). Freed by the picture from the accountability that the inevitable corruptions to his person, both tangible (such as diseases such as pox), and less so (a cruel curl to his lip), Dorian slides into true hedonism, until his picture is so hideous that he is unable to look at it.
The story is a vehicle for the examination of physical appearance as it relates to vice, as well as the corruptible nature of innocence once there is no way of holding it to account. Dorian needs no reason, but the amusing suggestions of Henry, to become the most depraved of London's denizens, because the over-riding reason is simply that he can. It is an examination of souls, and how linked they are to our appearances.
That's the book, but the film raised a lot of questions in me:
Why would you give Dorian a horrendous childhood, which lessens his accountability for his later cruelty?
Why would you make Henry Wotton an active part of his corruption, taking Dorian to his first hells, rather than the passive role he plays in the book, once again lessening Dorian's own accountability?
Why, having killed off the love interest in the book, would you give Dorian a whole redemption storyline, complete with its own love interest, that definitely isn't in the book.
Why would you turn the picture into some kind of monster all on its own, that seems to be working against Dorian, once again removing blame from him?
Why would you have Dorian explicitly make a compact with the devil, rather than give a mysterious twin agency to Basil and Dorian's own wishes - such a decision only acts to further decrease the subtelty, and resulted in Basil's crucial line, "I think I have put rather too much of myself into it [this painting]" being entirely omitted.
If it's not clear by now, the film does everything it can to make Dorian's descent understandable, so that he is still a likeable character. But this cheerfully disregards the whole point of the novel, and thus the story. It weakens the whole premise for the plot, and in my opinion, weakens the film as a result.
By this and by the opening of the film with a vicious murder which Dorian only performs towards the end of his corruption, the film adopted a tone of condescension. It was apparently unwilling to believe that there are people who could watch a story which wasn't standard Hollywood fare. The director clearly felt that unless Dorian's corruption was diluted by suggesting causes, and unless we had a love-interest at all times to make the film feel safe, the audience would be totally unable to watch the film. As it was, it was a frustrating hash of Wilde's novel, removing much of the narrative force in the process.
Having said that, as a film, it wasn't bad. Mystifying decisions and the director's need to babysit the audience aside, it was pretty enjoyable. Just not the heavy-weight it could have been. It was pretty chilling in places, and it did well at conveying a sense of unease. London at the turn of last century really came to life, feeling more realistic, immediate, and threatening than a lot of period dramas manage, even if, by the end of the film, I did begin to feel that all the slums of London were confined to only two streets.
There was certainly enough action, enough creepiness and enough going on to justify the film, although it was perhaps a little long at just under two hours. It was clear, however, that the director also got very carried away with the titillation of the film, as Dorian's respectable parties - with respectable guests - began to turn into the same kind of orgies that he was conducting in a clandestine manner. Once again, this lessened Dorian's corruption by implying that everyone indulged in similar pursuits. Anyway, the net result of this was that there was quite a lot of 19th century sex in the film, although this film was only a 15, with all that that entails.
This attitude to the parties of the aristocracy was the first hint that liberties had been taken with the historical setting, but it was hardly all-pervasive. I do, however, have to mention one particularly perplexing scene, which just wouldn't have been possible without birth control - Dorian speaks with Sybil Vane, his fiancée, stating that he would like to wait before having a family - yet they have already had sex. He speaks as though they have control over when they should start thinking about when to have a family - and the fact that Sybil is already pregnant gives this whole conversation the lie - it is impossible for them to choose the time, in a world without effective birth control. Clearly, this is nit-picking, but it was rather a jarring moment nevertheless, and it was also unnecessary.
So then, what did I think, and would I recommend it? I'm not sure, and that, I think, is telling. Despite all my criticisms, and despite its very loose relationship with the book and my own pickiness, I didn't hate it or feel like I wasted two hours on a rubbish film. It certainly wasn't a decent adaptation of "The Picture of Dorian Gray", but for all of that, when I wasn't cursing the director's decisions, it wasn't bad at all. I just wonder why directors feel that they have to put their own stamp and changes onto a work so carefully crafted as "The Picture of Dorian Gray" evidently was. There should be a test: "Are you as good an author as the man who wrote the original? No? Then either leave the plot alone or do something else."
It's not crying out to be seen, though I can recommend it more heartily if you're not familiar with Wilde's novel. If you find yourself with a spare evening, and there's nothing else on, you could do far worse than see this. Just don't expect it to be accurate, either in its representation of 1890s London, of Wilde's original story, or in its history.
Dramatic, stylish, and aggressive, rather than accurate, suspenseful and intellectual.
-Nelson