The Picture of Dorian Gray (1945) review

5. The Picture of Dorian Gray (1945)

Directed by: Albert Lewin

Produced by: Pandro S. Berman

Screenplay by: Albert Lewin

Starring: George Sanders, Hurd Hatfield, Donna Reed, Angela Lansbury, Peter Lawford

Based on the 1890 Oscar Wilde novel, “The Picture of Dorian Gray” is a cautionary tale about what happens when vanity goes too far; it was the first sound adaptation of the novel after it had spawned numerous silent films during the 1910s. It’s about the young, handsome and wealthy Dorian Gray (Hurd Hatfield), who has a portrait of himself painted by his friend Basil (Lowell Gilmore). Frightened at the notion that his youth and beauty will eventually fade, Dorian makes a wish that the portrait will age instead of him. Naturally, his wish comes true, and he keeps his appearance over the years, but as he becomes more and more corrupt, it takes a toll on him, leading the former innocent to a path of avarice and self-destruction. Powered by a lush production design that borders on flamboyance, this is worthwhile as a character study as well thanks to its witty and sharp dialogue.

Taking place in Victorian London, we’re introduced to Dorian, who meets Basil’s immoral friend Lord Henry Wotton (George Sanders) while posing for his portrait. He’s easily manipulated by Henry’s persuasions that life should be dedicated solely to personal pleasure, which carries over into his attempts at romance with a singer named Sibyl (Angela Lansbury). But every infliction and cruelty that stems from this is reflected on the portrait, which eventually becomes demonic and twisted; paranoid about keeping up appearances, Dorian has it locked away and obsesses over keeping it hidden. He seeks genuine happiness in his new love interest, Basil’s niece Gladys (Donna Reed), but his hedonistic lifestyle starts catching up to him, and he fears his picture-bound soul cannot be saved.

I don’t usually have much patience for prissy, hoity-toity attitudes in movies, but there is a slick, keen sense of self-awareness in these characters that is somewhat refreshing. George Sanders is enjoyably cynical as Henry; he has some of the most quotable lines in the movie, and not one of them ethical. But he’s just so unapologetically cutthroat and condescending about who he is that you kind of can’t help but laugh, especially at his banter with Sir Thomas (Robert Greig) at the dinner table. Dorian is played by Hurd Hatfield, who has this polished, almost ghostly look about him that’s really fitting for this role. I wish we had more insight into exactly why he goes so wrong; all we really get is that he’s naïve and compliant, but it’s a little too rushed for my liking. One character who really stands out is Sibyl, played by screen legend Angela Lansbury. I don’t get many opportunities to talk about Lansbury, but if you’ve ever seen the stage show of “Sweeney Todd” or Disney’s original “Beauty and the Beast,” then you know what a musically gifted talent she is. In one of her first film roles, she gets to sing C.W. Murphy’s “Goodbye, Little Yellow Bird,” which she does so beautifully, it actually gives me chills; she went on to her second Oscar nomination in as many years of her young career.

Of course, I have to talk about the portrait; it’s practically a character all its own. The scene where Dorian shows it to Basil in all its horrific glory is a gruesome spectacle; and whereas the movie is in black-and-white, it goes to Technicolor when we see the picture, just enhancing the erroneous, otherworldly quality of it. It’s like this beast of narcissism that Dorian shares an almost parasitic bond with; there’s plenty of commentary you can take from this. The first normal painting was created by Henrique Medina, which was eventually sold at auction by MGM and reportedly given to Hatfield; more recently, in 2015, it sold in New York for $149,000 and is believed to be in a private collection. But the more noteworthy portrait of Dorian’s monstrous appearance was done by Ivan Albright, known as the “master of the macabre,” and is today on display at the Art Institute of Chicago.

However, for as extravagant as the set pieces and cinematography are—the latter won an Academy Award, one of 13 that Harry Stradling was nominated for—there is still an air of pretention and excess. For starters, I think it’s kind of obnoxious that the characters literally mention Wilde; isn’t that breaking the fourth wall in a way? But I guess it’s not like they mention the novel “The Picture of Dorian Gray,” that would just be really bizarre. I’m also not a fan of the narrations throughout the movie; they’re well-spoken by horror veteran Cedric Hardwicke, but overused. There are entire monologues about Dorian’s thought process, which we should be able to infer for ourselves. Also, some of the events are given prominence to characters we barely even know, yet are apparently familiar enough with Dorian that they should feel important. In contrast, we have Gladys, who we know fairly well and actually provokes something pure within him, yet is given very little to do; and the fact that she’s played by Donna Reed, I feel cheated that she doesn’t have more of a presence.

Thankfully, this film accomplishes what it sets out to do, serving as a warning for those who think only of themselves. Fair warning, though; if you’re going into this movie blind, don’t expect a traditional scary movie, as it doesn’t contain the elements that you typically saw at the time. But the true horror comes from the realism, the idea that anyone you meet could do terrible things for no reason other than the fear of their own mortality. Also, it arguably puts even more weight onto the narrative that rich people are awful, but that’s another story. I think they could have trimmed some of the story’s fat or establish motivations a bit more clearly, but this is still a sleek and well-crafted Gothic fable.

My rating: 8/10