Review: Dorian Gray (1970)

Set in London in the late 60s, the vain young man of the title (Helmut Berger) is aimlessly drifting through life when he poses for his artist friend Richard Todd. Meanwhile he is encouraged into debauchery and decadence by jaded Herbert Lom, as Dorian also takes the virginity of young actress Marie Liljedahl. But Dorian starts to resent the portrait that is ageless whilst he’s doomed to mortality. Well actually, a funny thing starts to happen with that painting…

 

Schlock producer Harry Alan Towers gives us a relatively serious adaptation of the Oscar Wilde novel in this 1970 film and almost pulls it off. The film is OK for what it is, but none of the actors beyond Helmut Berger and Herbert Lom offer up accomplished enough performances to make this approach work. So it might’ve been better for Towers to encourage director Massimo Dallamano (cinematographer on two of Sergio Leone’s “Dollars” trilogy) to ratchet up the exploitation content. Or better yet, bring in old friend Jesus Franco to really get things cooking.

 

The sex here is mostly implicit, with the director obscuring some things with objects. While cut versions do exist, I’m pretty sure the version I saw was uncut. I know it was 1970, but Franco was making more explicit stuff than this at the time and it might’ve been an advantage here. More exploitation content really could’ve helped compensate for the wobblier performances here (notably by the female members of the cast, though Marie Liljedahl is relatively OK) and the thin story. It’s still romantic and sensual, but if ever a film needed some sleaze I think it might’ve been this one. It’s also really, really slow. After 30 minutes nothing has happened, the portrait only just having been revealed. That’s at least 10 minutes too slow in my book and indicative of filmmakers realising they’ve got quite a thin story at play. Performance-wise, Helmut Berger is well-cast as the self-adoring Dorian, and old pro Herbert Lom is absolutely spot-on in his rather decadent role. They’re the highlights for sure. Richard Todd is fine, but he has a completely uninteresting role in comparison. The rest are largely forgettable.

 

The film presents a frustrating dilemma. It’s technically better than I was expecting, if still not quite good enough for what it’s playing at, but perhaps also better than it really ought to have been. Should I be disappointed that it’s not trashier? That could very well be on me, but since there’s a place in the film called The Black Cock Club I reckon I’ve got reason to take issue. Even so the film isn’t quite well-made enough nor quite entertaining enough in any way to recommend. It’s just OK. At the end of the day it could’ve been a good exploitation movie, instead it’s decent ‘straight’ film with mild exploitation elements. A modernised version of the Oscar Wilde tale, the screenplay is by Marcello Coscia (who did uncredited work on Mario Bava’s “Black Sunday”), Gunter Ebert (Franco’s “Sadomania”), Renato Romano (“The Killers Are Our Guests”), and the director.

 

Rating: C+