Dorian Gray is a passable enough tale of a man whom sinks deeper and deeper into an abyss of self gratification; misogyny and pride, it is a film from the London born Oliver Parker whom has explored various roles of a writing; acting and directing nature over the years and is furthermore an adaptation of an 1891 novel by a certain Oscar Wilde. Ultimately, the film does a studious job of detailing a man's gradual sinking into a sordid lifestyle of ego and sin and the consequent realising of the pratfalls this entails by which time the proverbial horse has bolted. The study is played out behind lavish cinematography and an effective eye for the respective period it's set; where director Parker disappointed with his last film: the leery, overly sexualised and highly charged 2007 flop St. Trinian's, he hits the right notes in 2009's Dorian Gray - a film that seems to be about the consequent decline into a world full of all that, and more, but with this time something to say, eventually coming to see it just about emerge as an engaging piece of cinema.
It's Victorian era England and we begin the film with the disposing of a body, in a river, after a murder has taken place - the perpetrator being none other than Ben Barnes' titular Gray doing his dirty work under this canopy of a dark, dank and unwelcoming aesthetic. We flash back to one year ago, with the film having set out its stall as to where it'll end up as a fresh faced Gray steps off of a train to brighter, lighter and more welcoming hues. The film suggests degrees of innocence upon Gray's arrival, with its using of binary oppositional lighting as a representative of unspoilt psychosis, successfully instilling a bleak and knowing sense of where the character will end up in a year's time hovering over most of the early exchanges as the immediate opening lingers.
He is greeted by a Lord named Henry Wotton, played by Colin Firth, and Wotton enjoys the high life, very quickly bringing Gray under his wing of mostly sleaze and nastiness. Gray's adapting to this lifestyle comes quickly and easily, his uncannily handsome features eventually coming to represent every inch of the word as women fawn at the sight of him and both his playboy image and reputation gradually coming to precede him. The women love him; the men come to love his company and the film makes a distinct attempt to objectify him by focusing, in close up format, on both various parts and aspects of his face to get across a sense of flawlessness in this man's appearance. The trouble begins when Gray first tries to drink some gin and we observe his initiation into the very fabrics that arrive with Wotton's way of life get the better of him; he coughs, flinches and appears briefly as the centre of the laughs his contemporaries produce. As an outsider to the lifestyle and its content, the spectrum of his sinking into a newer existence is highlighted here by his initial naivety to it.
Gray's beauty is captured by way of a painted portrait constructed early on in the film, a painting which comes to represent the physical manifestation of the man's soul representative of all the evil; wrong doing and immorality which plagues Gray's life. Initial signs that all is not well with both the painting and Gray's attitudes are not heeded by the man, the confining it to the attic of the large house he inhabits a shutting away or burying of righteous attitudes for a more crass living. Instead, he carves his way through the inner circles of socialite-laden Victorian London; mixing and preening with the uppers, refusing to look too regretfully back on a marriage with Sybil (Hurd-Wood) that ends horrifically. The film sees its lead channel Christian Bale's American Psycho (of both book and film infame) Parick Bateman in his facial features, mannerisms and attitudes as he swaths through life overdosing on indulgence in immorality; Bateman himself, we recall, being based on true to life serial killer Ted Bundy as that opening scene still lingers.
Women come and go; nights out blur into one and death creeps into the equation as he eerily maintains his glowing looks and while time envelops those around him, Gray stays the same in his appearance and attitudes. It is the item of modernity that greets him after the first decade of the twentieth century comes and goes, The First World War rages around the world, itself being an item which signalled a jump in both technological and political modernity in its aftermath, with Wotten's daughter Emily (Hall) arriving on the scene and speaking of her want for a woman's 'vote' as well as her interest in an art form in the form of photography. But for all the heterosexual indulgences with women during the film's pomp it is Gray's relationship, or bond, with Wotton himself that presides at the core of the film. Wotton incepts Gray into the life they led and it is he whom spearheads the push for the film's final act. What keeps the film itself from being crass and indulgent itself towards this lifestyle is the constant threats and reminders linked to the engaging in what the lead Gray does. Rather than pile on all the nasty content before cheaply rounding it all off with a five minute moment of exposition masquerading as demonisation, the film keeps the aforementioned portrait looming in a physical sense above all others in the attic of the manor house as threats on his life in the meantime become prominent. Eventually, the film builds to a somewhat terrifying conclusion in which the lead is forced into confronting his lifestyle, a conclusion of which a decent enough tale that is worth seeing precedes it.
It's Victorian era England and we begin the film with the disposing of a body, in a river, after a murder has taken place - the perpetrator being none other than Ben Barnes' titular Gray doing his dirty work under this canopy of a dark, dank and unwelcoming aesthetic. We flash back to one year ago, with the film having set out its stall as to where it'll end up as a fresh faced Gray steps off of a train to brighter, lighter and more welcoming hues. The film suggests degrees of innocence upon Gray's arrival, with its using of binary oppositional lighting as a representative of unspoilt psychosis, successfully instilling a bleak and knowing sense of where the character will end up in a year's time hovering over most of the early exchanges as the immediate opening lingers.
He is greeted by a Lord named Henry Wotton, played by Colin Firth, and Wotton enjoys the high life, very quickly bringing Gray under his wing of mostly sleaze and nastiness. Gray's adapting to this lifestyle comes quickly and easily, his uncannily handsome features eventually coming to represent every inch of the word as women fawn at the sight of him and both his playboy image and reputation gradually coming to precede him. The women love him; the men come to love his company and the film makes a distinct attempt to objectify him by focusing, in close up format, on both various parts and aspects of his face to get across a sense of flawlessness in this man's appearance. The trouble begins when Gray first tries to drink some gin and we observe his initiation into the very fabrics that arrive with Wotton's way of life get the better of him; he coughs, flinches and appears briefly as the centre of the laughs his contemporaries produce. As an outsider to the lifestyle and its content, the spectrum of his sinking into a newer existence is highlighted here by his initial naivety to it.
Gray's beauty is captured by way of a painted portrait constructed early on in the film, a painting which comes to represent the physical manifestation of the man's soul representative of all the evil; wrong doing and immorality which plagues Gray's life. Initial signs that all is not well with both the painting and Gray's attitudes are not heeded by the man, the confining it to the attic of the large house he inhabits a shutting away or burying of righteous attitudes for a more crass living. Instead, he carves his way through the inner circles of socialite-laden Victorian London; mixing and preening with the uppers, refusing to look too regretfully back on a marriage with Sybil (Hurd-Wood) that ends horrifically. The film sees its lead channel Christian Bale's American Psycho (of both book and film infame) Parick Bateman in his facial features, mannerisms and attitudes as he swaths through life overdosing on indulgence in immorality; Bateman himself, we recall, being based on true to life serial killer Ted Bundy as that opening scene still lingers.
Women come and go; nights out blur into one and death creeps into the equation as he eerily maintains his glowing looks and while time envelops those around him, Gray stays the same in his appearance and attitudes. It is the item of modernity that greets him after the first decade of the twentieth century comes and goes, The First World War rages around the world, itself being an item which signalled a jump in both technological and political modernity in its aftermath, with Wotten's daughter Emily (Hall) arriving on the scene and speaking of her want for a woman's 'vote' as well as her interest in an art form in the form of photography. But for all the heterosexual indulgences with women during the film's pomp it is Gray's relationship, or bond, with Wotton himself that presides at the core of the film. Wotton incepts Gray into the life they led and it is he whom spearheads the push for the film's final act. What keeps the film itself from being crass and indulgent itself towards this lifestyle is the constant threats and reminders linked to the engaging in what the lead Gray does. Rather than pile on all the nasty content before cheaply rounding it all off with a five minute moment of exposition masquerading as demonisation, the film keeps the aforementioned portrait looming in a physical sense above all others in the attic of the manor house as threats on his life in the meantime become prominent. Eventually, the film builds to a somewhat terrifying conclusion in which the lead is forced into confronting his lifestyle, a conclusion of which a decent enough tale that is worth seeing precedes it.