The Picture of Dorian Gray is, for the purposes of classification, a bit of
a "tweener." The 1945 Metro Goldwyn Mayer production is a puzzler for classic
film fans due to its grim proceedings and cold fish casting of Hurd Hatfield in
the title role, while the icy deliberateness of its storytelling and a low body
count fail to slake the blood thirst of horror movie fans. Despite being what one
might call neither fish nor foul, the
The Picture of Dorian Gray was a
considerable success in its day, serving as both a showcase for top-billed George
Sanders (who actually plays a supporting role) and a launching pad for both
starlet Donna Reed (relatively early in her career, with Frank Capra's
It's a
Wonderful Life just around the corner) and British actress Angela Lansbury,
who sat out the Blitz in Hollywood as a reliable (and Oscar® nominated) second
female lead. Nonetheless, the handsome and passionately directed feature is
rarely discussed these days on its own terms. Acquired by Turner Entertainment
with the acquisition of MGM's pre-1986 catalogue,
The Picture of Dorian
Gray received occasional TV broadcasts in the 90s. A sell-through VHS tape
was made available in 2001 (roughly twenty years into the video revolution) and
only now, seven years later, is there a DVD. This seeming hesitancy on the part
of rights holder Time Warner speaks volumes about a corporate-minded diffidence to
their own library. As Dorian Gray himself might tell you, growing old is a bitch.
The Picture of Dorian Gray was a pet project for producer-director Albert
Lewin. Lewin directed but six features yet his credits as a screenwriter stretch
from the silent era to episodes of
Diff'rent Strokes and
The Facts of
Life. A former English professor at the University of Missouri, Lewin broke
into film as a reader for Samuel Goldwyn and worked his way up to the position of
writer by 1924. The gestation period for his $2 million adaptation of Oscar
Wilde's scandalous 1890 was slow; between being cast and filming her scenes,
Angela Lansbury squeezed in roles in both
Gaslight (1944) and
National
Velvet (1944). Early contenders for the pivotal role of Wilde surrogate Lord
Henry Wotton were Basil Rathbone (an MGM contractee on loan to Universal for the
Sherlock Holmes series) and Laird Cregar (who passed away before the film's
premiere) before settling on Sanders, whose dry line readings and comportment of
self-amusement made him the ideal candidate. Changing Wilde's conception of
Dorian Gray considerably, Lewin handpicked Hollywood newbie Hurd Hatfield, whose
only film role had been a small one in
Dragonseed (1944). By all accounts,
Lewin micromanaged Hatfield's every gesture (to the point of not letting the actor
perform after four o'clock in the afternoon, for fear fatigue would show),
resulting in a central performance that is appropriately strange but which never
engages. One doesn't see what others see in this Dorian Gray, who seems as
inflexible as mortician's wax even in his mysteriously protracted youth.
Its problematic central casting aside,
The Picture of Dorian Gray still has
much to offer. Lewin indulges in extended takes that allow his actors free range
within the frame, showing off both the deep focus cinematography of Harry
Stradling (who copped an Oscar® for his work) and the minutely realized (and
Oscar®-nominated) art direction of Cedric Gibbons and Hans Peters. Not only is
the film beautifully crafted but prophetic as well, with the emotionally stunted
Dorian blazing a trail that would later be bloodied by the likes of
Psycho's Norman Bates (they share a similar cobweb-strangled nursery and
there is even an eerily prescient knife murder staged under a hanging lamp) and
An American Psycho's Patrick Bateman (whose metrosexuality would not have
been out-of-step in Victorian England). Additionally, the self-possessed Henry
Wotton's slowly dawning conscience, by which he is able to appreciate that his
teachings about aesthetics have inspired Dorian's diabolical disregard for others,
anticipates the soul-sickening realization of James Stewart's Ivy League egghead
in
Rope (1948) that his teaching on intellectual superiority has bred
monsters. Alfred Hitchcock's 1948 film adaptation of Patrick Hamilton's 1929
British stage play toned down the homosexual undertones of the story's
teacher-student relationship but the source material feels as much inspired by
Oscar Wilde as the Leopold and Loeb murder case on which it was purportedly based.
Without being the beneficiary of expensive restoration,
The Picture of Dorian
Gray looks good on this commemorative disc from this Warner Brothers Home
Entertainment. While imperfections and blemishes in the source materials are
sometimes present, the contrasts are sharp and the blacks satisfyingly deep. It's
great to have the film's Technicolor inserts (for views of Ivan Albright's
portraits of Dorian Gray, both before and after) back in the film, especially as
those chromatics are so overwhelming and disturbingly saturated. The monaural
sound is limited, to be sure, and sounds a bit on the quiet side for what is a
largely subdued film, but is at least clean and noise-free. As far as supplements
go, the highlight of the disc is an audio commentary shared by film historian
Steve Haberman and surviving costar Angela Lansbury. Although Lansbury's
character is in her grave by the film's halfway mark, Haberman proves himself a
good master of ceremonies and Lansbury's insights into the making of the film are
invaluable. For trivia hounds, it's revealed that Greta Garbo expressed an
interest in cross-dressing to play Dorian Gray and that the pint-sized Lewin was
known (derisively) as the Metro Gnome. Rounding out the roster of extras are the
Oscar®-winning short
Stairway to Light, the Academy Award®-winning Tom
& Jerry cartoon
Quiet Please!, as well a theatrical trailer.
For more information about
The Picture of Dorian Gray, visit
Warner Video.To order
The Picture of Dorian
Gray, go to
TCM Shopping.
by Richard Harland Smith
