Never have more homosexuals been seen on the screen
achieving ecstasy in the missionary position. Will wonders never
cease? No bumboys these, neither sodomites nor cornholers nor
plugpokers shall ever darken the screen of this production,
financed, as a possible matter of interest to some, in part by the
BBC. (One recalls, unfortuately, the scene that had to be edited
out of Jarman's Edward II because two men were seen naked
together in one bed.) No, these jolly boys just seem somehow
simply to be nice fellows who got it the wrong way around and
probably really only want (or need) a woman beside
(underneath?) them. The most risque shot is that of Bosie
standing in a room with his derriere in full glory. (If someone
involved with this project is anxious and shying away from any
promotion of "the love that dare not speak its name," then why do
they dwell so lengthily on the arse and damn the genitalia?
Hasn't it occurred to someone that the backdoor shutter might
possibly have a certain appeal to some sodomites?)
Oscar Wilde (Stephen Fry) returns from the United States and
Canada to marry Constance Lloyd (Jennifer Ehle) with whom he
is destined to have two children. Having achieved fame through
his decadent novella "The Picture of Dorian Gray," he follows
other pursuits. Fry ponces around like a flacid, placid Belgian
vlan, coyly casting his roundish eyes semi-masochistically
upward every time he addresses anyone. Due to Fry's natural
height, this also often necessitates a hunching of the shoulders
and bending downward of the neck in order to achieve the effect.
After Wilde embracingly plays host to the Canadian house guest
and homosexual Robert Ross (Michael Sheen), the friendly
lodger returns the favor by making Oscar an offer he couldn't
refuse. Oscar was, of course, once an English schoolboy and
had experienced, during those young and fruitful days, feelings
which left their mark on him. Once out of the closet, Oscar felt
exceedingly gay, but the people around him regarded him in a
distinctly Victorian way.
Once Lady Windermere's Fan opened, to use a turn of phrase,
the man with the green carnation was reintroduced to Lord Alfred
Douglas (Jude Law), who wore the nickname "Bosie," but might
just as easily have been called "Narcissus" or "Nemesis." Oscar
loved the Greek underworld until he had his ears boxed by
Bosie's father, the Marquess of Queensbury (Tom Wilkinson),
and was sent to Reading Gaol. One might easily have forseen
what the outcome of the renowned court case would be, given the
time and place, after Queensbury (who never changed his title)
left the famous card reading "To Oscar Wilde, posing Somdomite
(sic)." Oscar was not the kind of person who liked to be referred
to as "posing". (Thank heaven, times change. Nowadays, we'd
probably have a lobby outside the courthouse carrying banners
reading "Queensbury buries queens.")
With scandal afoot, Wilde's wife left England with their children
and changed the family name. When times got hard, Bosie was
no longer. There was nothing left for Oscar, eventually, but to
move to Paris. He would undoubtedly turn in his grave, despite
the massive block weighing him down in Pere Lachaise, if he had
even the slightest inkling of what the cinema would been doing to
him once he left our midst.
Acclaimed writer Julian Mitchell as well as a notable cast and
crew would have been better off spending the production
schedule on vacation in Bruge.
What can I say? De Profundis? Surely not.
© 1994-2006 The Green Hartnett
|