I will not bother giving my usual plot synopsis; Oscar Wilde's story is familiar, and this is the third movie version. The first feature-length version would appear the year after Thanhouser's two-reel release.
Harris Gordon plays Dorian Gray in this version. His performance is broad, but the fantastic, gothic nature of the tale pretty well demands it. If even Spencer Tracy overacted as the star of the similarly themed DOCTOR JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE, Gordon's performance looks subtle for 1915.
It is in the details of set and camerawork under director Eugene Moore and his crew that the duality of Gray's nature are subtly revealed; the scenes where Gordon is watching his love, Helen Fulton, perform on stage, has the audience watching Gordon in the foreground react to Miss Fulton in the background -- a commonplace at Thanhouser, though still uncommon today. It quickly becomes apparent that he wishes to make love to Juliet, to Rosalind, to the infinite variety of women that the actress portrays. When the presence of the man she loves causes her to falter, he abandons her. He wants many women, many experiences, all at no cost to him. He lives agelessly in public, while the portrait -- his real self -- ages and grows debilitated.
It's a visual sophistication that modern moviemakers have lost, or perhaps abandoned. Pity.
Harris Gordon plays Dorian Gray in this version. His performance is broad, but the fantastic, gothic nature of the tale pretty well demands it. If even Spencer Tracy overacted as the star of the similarly themed DOCTOR JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE, Gordon's performance looks subtle for 1915.
It is in the details of set and camerawork under director Eugene Moore and his crew that the duality of Gray's nature are subtly revealed; the scenes where Gordon is watching his love, Helen Fulton, perform on stage, has the audience watching Gordon in the foreground react to Miss Fulton in the background -- a commonplace at Thanhouser, though still uncommon today. It quickly becomes apparent that he wishes to make love to Juliet, to Rosalind, to the infinite variety of women that the actress portrays. When the presence of the man she loves causes her to falter, he abandons her. He wants many women, many experiences, all at no cost to him. He lives agelessly in public, while the portrait -- his real self -- ages and grows debilitated.
It's a visual sophistication that modern moviemakers have lost, or perhaps abandoned. Pity.