The Picture of Dorian Gray
A rapid fire review.
On Broadway right now, Sarah Snook and the Sydney Theatre Company are tearing through a new adaptation of Oscar Wilde’s Gothic horror/satire, using live and recorded cinematic techniques developed by Australian auteur Kip Williams to create what struck me as a new and vital kind of theatre.
My first thought was that Snook, who originated this role in London and won an Olivier award for it, is not at a place in her career where she has to chew through 26 roles nightly (on a Holiday weekend, no less) unless she really wants to, and you can tell from the energy of her performance that this is, in fact, what she really wants.
Snook is supported, in the performance, by her own pre-recorded roles an by a crew of camera people, costumers, stagehands and techs. But make no mistake, she is the Atlas of this show, on which the entire firmament rests.
The Picture of Dorian Gray is the story of a gorgeous young man of Victorian England who sits for a portrait and prays that the ravages of age and sin will be visited on his painted likeness, rather than his living face. This prayer is granted, though it becomes a curse as it gives Gray license to pursue hedonism without regard for others while suffering none of the direct consequences. His decaying visage in the portrait serves to remind and torment him with the truth of who he really is. The story is a meditation on aesthetics, on being gay in a repressive culture and about how the face we show the world interacts with the face we keep covered, hidden in our attics. I wonder if T.S. Eliot thought of Wilde when he wrote about the time it takes, “To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet.”
Working in 2025, Williams sees the obvious parallels to the filters, deletions and automatic airbrushing of smart phones and social media, which plays a huge thematic role in the production. The production is far less interior than Wilde’s original, but these times are less interior than the late 19th century and Williams knows it. What we get is a romp, but a fun one.
Even if it lacks the depth and many uses of Wilde’s prose, Snook and Williams effectively skewer our obsessions with youth and image, as well as our reliance on wit and humor to hide our darker selves. There are quite a few laughs in the show as Wilde’s wordplay sparkles, but The Scholar Wife points out that it’s almost entirely put to the service of masking hideous characters. There’s a particular moment, near the end of the play, where a very funny line about exercise and healthy eating seems entirely at odds with the tone of events.
Stylistically, Williams owes a lot to the Elevator Repair Service, which has specialized in bringing novels to stage, but without the advantages of Williams’ technology and cinematography. I would love to see the two collaborate. As for Snook, I am deeply impressed by the energy and joy she brings others the performance.
She took a deserved three turns at her standing ovation, bringing the crew with her each time. I hope she does as well at the Tony awards in early June. She’s something else, really, and this show is a step forward for Broadway.