Since its introduction in 1891, Oscar Wilde's fable of Dorian Gray has become a part of our language and culture—17 movies have been based on the novel. One of the Chicago Art Institute's most popular exhibits is American artist Ivan Albright's interpretation of the fatal vision. And former classmates at school reunions greet one another with a cheerful 'Where's the picture?' The irony is that the famous portrait of the title is fictional, the McGuffin in what has become a classic of English literature, its appearance wholly a product of individual imagination.
The story recounts the fortunes of Dorian Gray, a handsome young man seduced by the attentions of playboy Lord Henry Wotton, whose praise of society artist Basil Hallward's portrait of the boy as 'the greatest painting of the age' propels the foolish Dorian to wish that he could forever remain as beautiful as his image. No good can come of such a prayer, of course, and under Lord Henry's influence, Dorian becomes increasingly obsessed with the amoral pursuit of sensational experience—even to cold-blooded murder—shrugging off any trace of remorse for the destruction he inflicts upon himself and his undeserving victims. Mysteriously, he exhibits none of the outward symptoms associated with a life of excess—but what is happening to the portrait he keeps hidden in the attic?
Lifeline Theatre, the award-winning company renowned for its live-performance versions of The Island of Dr. Moreau and the Lord of The Rings trilogy, now brings this masterpiece of the Victorian gothic-horror genre to its home in Rogers Park. While the bulk of the project rests with adapter Robert Kauzlaric and director Kevin Theis, the greatest challenge falls to Charlie Athanas, the Chicago artist assigned the task of creating the shape-shifting picture at the center of the dramatic action.
Windy City Times: Wilde's novel has been analyzed in exhaustive detail—the Aesthetic movement, the Faustian echoes, that unnamed manifesto Lord Henry gives Dorian, and so forth. But what do you think Dorian Gray is all about?
Kevin Theis: How much time do you have? There are so many threads running through the story, it's difficult to give a concise answer. I think this play sets up an eternal question: If you could live your life exactly as you wished, without any consequences whatsoever, what would you do? Would you have the strength to shun the excesses you could so easily indulge? Would you surrender to your most craven impulses? And if you did choose the immoral path, how long could you do it—facing the hideous evidence of your deterioration—before devolving into self-loathing? This, for me, is the central theme.
Rob Kauzlaric: Themes? Reckoning, duplicity, regret. Oscar Wilde himself wrote 'Basil is what I think I am. Lord Henry is what the world thinks me to be. Dorian is what I would like to be—in other ages, perhaps.' But Basil conceals his feelings, submits to the will of others and dies untimely. Lord Henry lives only for himself and his own gratification and he, ultimately, is left to die alone. Dorian is an innocent with the power to realize the lifestyle he chooses, but he, too, dies alone and untimely. No matter how you look at it, none of these characters can be called positive role models.
Charlie Athanas: It's been a long time since I read the story, so Rob's adaptation was eye-opening. Corruption through manipulation seems to be one theme, along with the perils of living a completely selfish life. I'd say it's about—the echoing destruction of narcissistic hedonism!
WCT: How far does your adaptation go in addressing Oscar Wilde's gay subtext?
KT: What's interesting about the story is that almost all of the characters are strongly attracted to Dorian, but the attraction is not overtly sexual in every instance.
RK: Basil sees Dorian as an object of beauty and a source of artistic inspiration. Lord Henry sees Dorian as an impressionable youth he can dominate intellectually.
KT: Alan Campbell, however, is a different matter. Theirs is, without question, a sexual relationship. Alan idolizes Dorian, physically and emotionally, but Dorian uses him cruelly.
WCT: Dorian uses everybody cruelly—and we have to see every step of his descent into anarchic egotism. Charlie, how do you plan to accomplish that? What will the painting show us? Age? Decay?
CA: The phrase that first comes to my mind is 'death by a thousand cuts.' These paintings have to live within the world architecture of the play. Very early in the process, [ set designer ] Tom Burch and the production crew talked about the size and placement of the picture, taking into account the audience's ability to see the changing image.
WCT: Did you do any research on your own?
CA: I looked at portraits from the [ play's ] period so that I could incorporate elements from that era. Lifeline also gave me reference photos of Nick Vidal, the actor playing Dorian. But Kevin had a very specific take on your original question that will reflect what he wants to emphasize in the story.
WCT: What's that, exactly? And how many pictures will you have to paint, besides the pretty first one and ugly last one?
CA: That's one area I've been asked not to talk about—but the portrait will change over the course of the play.
WCT: You're doing actual paintings, then?
CA: Oh, yes—the pictures will all be done from scratch, pencil sketches to canvas. Paint lets you get primal, in a way I've found you can't do with computers. Knowing that you can't undo mistakes with the click of a button puts you in the flow very intimately.
WCT: If all goes successfully, how do you hope audiences will respond?
CA: I love the collaborative aspect of theater design because it takes my art where I'd never imagine it going. I hope the final revelation of Dorian Gray will elicit a gasp or two from the audience.
KT: Horrified cries would be nice, too.
