Slashing The Seats

After the abominable bit-partery of The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, Oscar Wilde’s personification of vanity claws his way back to leading man status in Oliver Parker’s surprisingly faithful, if lacklustre adaptation.

For those without access to Penguin Classics, it’s the old, old story – young, good looking lad moves to London, and engages in a hedonistic, soul-destroying rampage while a magic portrait deals with the unpleasant business of ageing for him. It could happen to anyone.

There’s a dashing, elegant look to proceedings, with lots of lovingly crafted Edwardianisms and gentle blue filtering that creates a fairytale atmosphere, while Parker’s direction is unobtrusive, but has a TV ring about it meaning things never quite reach the heights that are obviously being aimed for. There’s also an unfortunate lack of faith in Toby Finlay’s script which leads to the unwelcome arrival of overblown dialogue and an effects-heavy climax that’s frankly laughable, while the rendering of the portrait itself is cartoonish and unconvincing.

As it stands, Ben Barnes – last seen grunting his way through Prince Caspian – puts in a solid performance. He’s certainly handsome enough, but lacks the steel core needed to portray the character’s monstrous vanity. He struggles manfully through, and is ably supported by Colin Firth, but he’s never quite as engaging as he should be with the result that it’s hard to care about his eventual grisly fate, a major fault in a tale that demands our empathy to deliver its metaphoric point.

All in all it’s a film that echoes its protagonist, good looking but ultimately lacking soul.

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