British Productions

The video productions of the BBC in the 1970s make up a significant presence in my personal collections. I own "The Six Wives of Henry VIII" and its semi-sequel, "Elizabeth R", "I, Claudius", and "Lillie". I love the feel of these productions - and anyone who feels they are too cheap looking should take the time to examine the costumes. The sets in Lillie, too, are sumptuous. There is a certain claustrophobia created by the set-bound nature of the productions; these are plays, not movies, nor even "shows" in the sense most Americans think of them.

I'm catching Peter Firth now in his turn as Dorian Gray. The differences between this and the 1945 film are largely small, and entertaining only in the turns of dialogue one might have, or the other. Wilde is to be counted on for cleverness and craft (and, yet another aside from me - surprise - do yourself the favor of catching Peter Egan's go at the man himself in, again, Lillie), and as theatricals go he is consummate at holding one's interest.

In this production, the longing after Dorian is made a bit more clear than would have been prudent in the film, and perhaps would have been clearly contextualized in that period, too. Wilde's final "crime" of course was known, but the understanding of his sexuality, in relation to his work, was hardly common conversation just a generation past its *being* criminal. By the seventies, it was perhaps more an open secret, and Victorian literature was beginning even to be mined for those relationships which once had dared not etc. And so the relations here have dimensions and clarity which were still indirect and scarcely to be hinted at in the film.

One thing, though, the film manages with absolute superiority. The alteration of the character of Sybil Vane was, in the end, both a product of its time and a hugely effective dramatic choice. The role is taken by Angela Lansbury, whose luminosity might actually astonish, in this film. She says at some point on the DVD commentary track, how wonderful the lighting director was, and she is not wrong. She is stunningly lovely in this, heart-catchingly perfect in the role.

The key difference, of course, is the use of sex - again - as the crux of the action. The 1970s play for TV is more faithful to Wilde's original novel. But the film's positing of Dorian's disillusion is vastly more powerful. It positions Sybil both as a real woman and a fantasy, and mercilessly illustrates the fate of EVERY woman who's ever borne the weight of a lover's expectations. It can be a terrible thing, having to live up to either the specific fantasies one person applies to another specific parson - or to the societal fantasies generally imposed on femininity. The indictment, in the film, of both the imposition and the effects of it - and the addition of a sharper class conflict, made manifest in the "classless" act of a woman offering herself to the man she believes she loves - packs a punch. It was a wise move, and resonates still very powerfully.

Firth is an interesting presence, always. Something about him is very nicely disturbing. Where Hurd Hatfield was marvelously beautiful, but Lewin directed him (rightly, I think) to be absolute marble - until a certain point - Firth is allowed his impetuosity and youth. There are virtues in both directorial approaches, though Firth's squirmy presence may seem more immediate or vital. The fact that he makes one queasy, though, undermines the beauty he's meant to personify. Hurd may have been rendered inanimate, but his physical presence was (flawlessly) perfect. Even with a notable-to-my-generation resemblance to Christopher Reeve (in itself, oddly effective and resonant even), his glass-smooth, diamond-hard immaculate charisma is riveting. This has as much effect as the intensity of the adolescent, impulsive, passionate Firth. So the leads, in both these cases, prompt me to think of adding both versions to my shelves.

Taking on Lord Henry, though, I come to a dividing point - and one I might not have expected. You have to love Gielgud. He's Gielgud. Watch him in "Becket" and TRY to hate him, I dare you.

But watch him - and watch George Sanders - and, as for me, Sanders wins by a mile. Gielgud's makes a great mouth into which to put Wilde's dialogue, and the character is clearly Oscar's avatar, which makes him fascinating on multiple levels ... but Sanders' acting is better here. Lord Henry gets to be a real character. But Gielgud's Henry doesn't go beyond the script, which is not exactly perfect. Authors' avatars are rarely well fleshed out, and Gielgud doesn't improve on Wilde's own work.

Clever. Crafty. But no version-of-self any writer ever produced doesn't suffer in characterization. I say that loving Wilde's abilities - but respecting that at times acrobatics isn't dance, if you see what I mean.

I love the limitations of the TV play. But this work, for my money, requires both copies as antidotes to each other.