I could take the boys to the dentist on Thursday on their way back to school.
But the whole point of them having dentistry now...
is so they can stuff themselves with sweets for a week before we lose them.
- Are you quite sure? - Bosie'll look after me.
Get your coat on, quick!
I've got a present for you!
Oh, God.
- You're not still seedy, are you? - Bosie, where have you been?
I've had no one to talk to, no one to look after me.
Don't be so pathetic. I've found you the divinest boy.
- Bosie, you promised Constance-- - Bugger Constance.
I'm not your nanny. Come on. We're going out.
Bosie, please.
You look such an idiot lying there. Revolting.
- Have you forgotten how to wash? - As a matter of fact...
I'm dying for a glass of water.
- You know where the jug is. - Bosie, darling.
It stinks in here. You'll be wanting me to empty your chamber pot next.
Well, I emptied your chamber pot. I looked after you.
Well, I'm not looking after you. Not now.
You don't interest me. Not when you're ill.
You're just a boring middle-aged man with a blocked-up nose.
- Bosie, dearest boy. - Shut up!
''Dearest boy, darling Bosie.'' It doesn't mean anything.
You don't love me. The only person you've ever loved is yourself.
You like me. You lust after me.
You go about with me because I've got a title. That's all.
You like to write about dukes and duchesses...
but you know nothing about them.
You're the biggest snob I've ever met...
and you think you're so daring because you fuck the occasional boy.
Please, you're killing me.
You'll just about do when you're at your best.
You're amusing-- very amusing-- but when you're not at your best, you're no one.
All I asked for was a glass of water.
For Christ's sake! There you are then!
Now will you shut up about the fucking water?
There are two boys waiting out there.
If you're not coming, I'll fuck them both myself.
I'll take them to the Grand and fuck them in front of the whole hotel...
and I'll send you the bill.
Drink this.
- It will help your fever. - He's ashamed of loving men.
His father bullies him, his mother spoils him...
and then berates him for being spoiled.
Neither of them gives him any real love. They're torturing him.
And what's truly dreadful is that when...
he can't bear it and has one of his--
he becomes exactly like his father.
- And he hates himself for that. - You're too kind about him.
You can't be too kind about someone who's been so hurt.
Yet if I go on trying to come between Bosie and his father...
that'll destroy me.
Bosie's quite capable of destroying you on his own.
Look how much you wrote while he was away.
Two wonderful plays which will run for years.
Back comes Bosie, and what have you written since?
You know how much I...
love and admire you...
but you're throwing your genius away.
- For what? - It's highly ironic.
Queensberry thinks Bosie and I are locked in nightly embrace...
and in reality, we've been the purest model of Greek love since--
Bosie doesn't like doing it with me, but I've loved him.
- I've educated him. - But he's never grown up.
And he never will.
I'm not taking him back, Robbie.
Not again.
I can't.
I've been very foolish, very fond...
but now I must grow up myself.
Oh, please, don't do that.
You're an artist. Artists are always children at heart.
Oh, Robbie, I sometimes I wonder if--
Back page, sir.
My God. Francis Douglas.
- What? - Bosie's brother.
He's been found shot. He's dead.
But he's just got engaged.
Poor, poor Bosie. He'll be utterly distraught.
He killed himself.
It was my father. He drove him to it.
I'm sure your father's just as upset as everyone else.
No, he's not.
He says it's a judgment on Roseberry and my mother...
and me and you.
We've got to stop him, Oscar...
before he drives my whole family to suicide.
I promise you, I won't let him hurt you ever again.
I promise.
It's not enough. I want him stopped.
I want the whole world to know what he's done...
what an evil man he is.
Table, my lord?
Is Lord Alfred here? And that shit and sod Wilde?
No, my lord. Not tonight.
Bugger must be at Kettner's.
Is my son staying here?
Is Lord Alfred Douglas staying here?
No, sir, he's not.
- What about Wilde? - No, sir.
If I find they have been staying here...
I'll give you the biggest whipping of your life.
Well, I expect you two would like a drink after your exertions.
I must ask you to leave, Mr. Wilde.
My dear man, what are you talking about?
At once, please.
What's the matter? My father cracking the whip downstairs, is he?
- My lord. - Bosie.
You're not frightened of what this little man thinks, are you?
I think the pleasures of the evening should be resumed elsewhere.
You're such a coward.
You say you despise convention...
but you're the most conventional man I know.
Come on then. If we're going, let's go.
Until tomorrow, Tommy.
Good-bye, sir.
I goes in, and there's all this tropical fruit laid out.
Wait a minute, Oscar!
Alfred, how nice to see you. And Charlie, looking so well.
I'm afraid I'm busy this evening, but we must have dinner again soon.
It's not a question of dinner. I got a letter of yours to Lord Alfred.
It's a nice letter, Oscar. Beautiful.
''Lips like roses. The madness of kisses in ancient Greece.''
Then I expect it's one of my prose poems.
There's a gentleman's offered me 60 pounds for it.
Then you must accept, Alfred. I've never received so large a sum...
for a prose work of that length in all my life.
Tell him I'm delighted that someone in England values my work so highly.
- Well, he's gone away. - He's gone to the country.
Well, I'm sure he'll be back soon.
Oscar, look. You couldn't let us have something, could you?
Bit short at the moment. You know.
Of course. Of course.
Here's half a sovereign. Now you mind you take good care of that letter.
Lord Alfred is going to publish it in sonnet form in his new magazine.
For fuck's sake.
It's no good trying to rent you.
You just laugh at us.
- Here. - Thank you.
He can be very careless, Lord Alfred.
What a wonderfully wicked life you lead.
You boys. You boys.
- Where is he? - Mr. Wilde is not receiving visitors.
- Where is he? - He's busy, sir. I cannot--
I wish you would get out of my way. Get out of my way!
Excuse me, sir, there's a gentleman--
You!
Listen to me.
You're a bugger!
I don't allow people to talk to me like that in my house, Lord Queensberry...
or anywhere else.
I suppose you've come to apologize for the lies you've been spreading about me?
I've come to tell you to leave my son alone, you sodomite.
The marquis appears to be very obsessed with other people's sexual activities.
Has it anything to do with his new wife...
I wonder, and the fact that she's seeking divorce for non-consummation?
Unless you swear that you'll have nothing more to do with Bosie...
I shall go to Scotland Yard.
You can go to the devil.
You and your-- Who is this gargoyle?
You're a queer! And a sham! A poseur!
If I catch you and Bosie together again, I'll give you such a thrashing.
I believe Lord Queensberry once invented some rules for boxing.
I've no idea what they are...
but the Oscar Wilde rule is to shoot on sight.
- Now, kindly leave my house. - You can shut up!
I shall leave when I'm damn well ready.
It's a scandal what you've been doing.
All the scandal is your own.
Your treatment of your wives...
your neglect of your children...
and, above all, the depraved insistence...
that they be as tyrannical and unloving as you are yourself.
Arthur, this is the Marquis of Queensberry...
the most infamous brute and the least tender father in London.
Never let him into my house again.
Very well then.
Let's get out of this stew.
- Out of the way, then! - I'm sorry, sir!
I'm very sorry, but it's just not possible!
What are you doing? Rotten vegetables?
Give that to Oscar Wilde.
Thank you, sir. We'll take care of it.
I wanted to give it to him personally as a bouquet.
I daresay you did, sir, but you're not going to.
He's a cur and a sod!
And a bugger!
You remember that!
I always told you, Gwendolen, my name is Ernest, didn't I?
Well, it is Ernest after all.
I mean, it naturally is Ernest.
Yes, I remember now that the general was called Ernest.
I knew I had some particular reason for disliking the name.
Ernest! My own Ernest!
I knew from the first you could have had no other name.
Gwendolen, it's a terrible thing for a man to find out suddenly...
that all his life he's been speaking nothing but the truth.
Can you forgive me?
I can, for I feel you are sure to change.
- My own one! - Laetitia.
Frederick! At last!
- Cecily! At last! - Gwendolen! At last!
My nephew, you seem to be displaying signs of triviality.
On the contrary, Aunt Augusta...
I've now realized for the first time in my life...
the vital importance of being earnest.
Allen, you were wonderful! Thank you all so much.
They're calling for you. You must come on. Curtain, curtain.
- No, no, George, no, no. - Come on!
- Mr. Wilde, sir. - Yes?
- For you. - Thank you.
''For Oscar Wilde...
Ponce,'' is it?
''Ponce and 'somdomite.'''
''Posing as a sodomite.'' He's illiterate-- illiterate, ignorant.
- It's hideous. - We've got him now, Robbie.
He wrote it down. The porter read it.
That makes it a public libel. Now we can take him to court.
For God's sake.
Oscar, you mustn't do that. That would be-- I mean--
We've just been waiting for a chance to get him in the dock...
and show the world what a swine and shit he's always been.
- To me, my mother, my brothers. - But he'll plead justification.
He'll call all the renters as witnesses for the defense.
Of course he won't. He doesn't know what a renter is.
I hear he's had detectives following you ever since you came back from Egypt.
He can't prove anything. But we can.
We can prove he's the vilest man that ever walked the earth.
Tear the card up, Oscar. Pretend you never got it.
Are you mad? That's our main piece of evidence.
I'm sure if Oscar went abroad for a few months...
lived on royalties while your father calms down--
- Whose side are you on? - Bosie, if this goes to court...
Oscar will have to tell lies...
perjure himself-- everything will come out.
Whatever the result, it will be utter disaster.
You're an enemy then.
No, no, Bosie, please. Robbie...
you're a dear boy, but I can't even think of leaving the country.
As a matter of fact, I can't even leave this hotel. I can't pay the bill.
We can raise you money, for heaven's sake.
Anyway, what about your royalties?
We shall need all the money we can get for the libel case.
My father can't go on making all our lives a torment like this.
Oscar, I beg you.
I'm not going to run away, Robbie.
I'm not going to hide. That would be the English thing to do.
If you take Queensberry to court, all hell will break loose.
All my life I've fought against the English vice:
hypocrisy-- not that that's the point.
The point is, Queensberry's already caused the death of one of his sons.
If I don't try and stop him now, whom will he harm next?
He's avoiding me, Robbie.
I know what everyone's saying, but it's not true.
It's not true.
- Is it? - Of course not.
Oh, it's so shaming.
No, I find it easier to stand.
I'm going to Torquay for a month, try to get my back right.
- Oscar's been so busy-- - I'm sure he'll be terribly upset...
when he knows you've been in so much pain.
The truth is, I need some money.
Not even sure where he is to ask for it.
It does seem rather hard when he's having such an extraordinary success.
I think I can find him.
I keep hearing these stories about Bosie and his father.
- I'm sure you don't want to-- - Oh, yes. I do.
Men think women should be protected by not knowing.
Not knowing only makes it worse.
Is there going to be trouble?
I hope not.
I believe a prosecution would certainly succeed...
provided-- and I stress this--
provided there is no truth whatever in the accusation made by Lord Queensberry.
Of course there's no truth in it.
Then so long as I have Mr. Wilde's assurance that that is indeed the case.
There is no truth in the accusation whatever.
Good. Excellent.
The defense, I understand, will be led by Mr. Edward Carson.
Old Ned? I was at college with him in Dublin.
No doubt he will perform his task with all the bitterness of an old friend.
In writing a book or a play, I'm concerned entirely with literature--
with art-- I do not aim at doing good or evil...
but at making a thing that will have some quality of beauty.
Well, listen, sir. Here is one of your pieces of literature.
''Wickedness is a myth invented by good people...
to account for the curious attractiveness of others.''
Do you think that true?
Oh, I rarely think anything I write is true.
''If one tells the truth, one is sure, sooner or later, to be found out.''
That is a pleasing paradox, but I do not set store by it as an axiom.
Is it good for the young?
Anything is good that stimulates thought, at whatever age.
Whether moral or immoral?
There's no such thing as morality or immorality in thought.
What about this then?
''Pleasure is the only thing one should live for.''
I think that the realization of one's self is the prime aim of life...
and that to realize through pleasure is finer than to do so through pain.
I am, on this point, entirely on the side of the ancients, the Greeks.
How long have you known Alfred Taylor?
About two years, two-and-a-half years.
- Is he an intimate friend of yours? - I wouldn't call him that, no.
But you went often to his rooms?
About seven or eight times, perhaps.
Did you know Mr. Taylor kept ladies' dresses in his rooms?
Did you know he was notorious for introducing young men to older men?
I never heard it in my life.
Has he introduced young men to you?
Yes.
- How many young men? - About five.
- What were their occupations? - I really don't know.
Oh, well, let me tell you, Mr. Wilde.
You met a man called Charles Parker there, I believe.
Yes.
Charles Parker is...
a gentleman's valet.
You met his brother there too, I believe.
- Yes. - He is a groom.
I didn't care tuppence what they were.
I liked them. I have a passion to civilize the community.
I recognize no social distinctions at all of any kind.
To me, youth-- the mere fact of youth--
is so wonderful that I would sooner talk to a young man for half an hour...
than, well, than be cross-examined in court.
So, do I understand that...
even a boy you might pick up in the street would be a pleasing companion?
I would talk to a street Arab with pleasure if he would talk to me.
- And take him to your rooms? - Yes.
And then commit improprieties with him?
Certainly not.
You withdraw your libel action against Lord Queensberry.
Well and good.
But there remains the question of the evidence--
Lord Queensberry's evidence against you.
My information is that the Crown wishes to pursue the matter.
In which case, an arrest and a charge of gross indecency...
are certain to follow.
The maximum sentence is two years hard labor.
Nine months hard labor is reckoned to be more...
than a man of our background...
can survive.
The children, the boys--
- I must go and see them. - You have no time for that.
But my wife-- I have to say good-bye to my wife.
Unless you positively wish to subject her...
to the further humiliation of seeing you arrested...
and taken away in front of the gutter press...
Mr. Wilde,you must go.
Oscar, you must take that train.
Practically everyone you know will be on it.
At least 600 single gentlemen, all in abject terror of arrest.
Where your life leads you, you must go.
I defy society.
Tell him to go.
He must save himself.
Tell him to go abroad.
I've been telling him all day.
He won't budge.
People have never understood the courage he needed to be himself.
You must go abroad too.
We must all go abroad at once.
Oscar says, will you tell the boys good-bye.
I need to go through his papers.
You know, I was always too silent.
If I'd known--
If I'd only spoken up.
It wouldn't have made any difference.
Perhaps not...
but at least I wouldn't blame myself now.
You're an Irish gentleman. Of course,you must stay.
Your father fought when he was libeled.
- I was in the courts myself. I fought-- - Yes, I know, Madre.
You will fight these English philistines, and you'll win.
And even if you lose-- if you go to prison--
you'll always be my son.
Of course, it's too late to change that now.
If you go, Oscar...
I'll never speak to you again.
No one will ever speak to me again, whatever I do.
Of course I'm your son, Madre...
which is why, even if I lose...
the English will never forget me.
My darling.
Get out of my way. Get out! Out!
Take me away at once!
Lady Wilde. Lady Wilde!
Have you anything to say about your son's disgrace, Lady Wilde?
Have you anything to say?
Come in.
Mr. Wilde, I believe.
Yes, yes.
We have a warrant here for your arrest...
on a charge of committing indecent acts.
I recommend Switzerland as soon as possible.
You will have to change your name, of course.
I can't.
My dear Constance, the name of Wilde will be...
a word of execration for the next thousand years.
You can't possibly let your boys grow up with people knowing who they are.
Think of their lives at school.
Thank you for your advice.
I'm sorry our friendship has to end like this.
- Oh, you will always be my friend. - I am still Oscar's wife.
That must cease forthwith. Forthwith. Do you understand?
Anybody who has anything to do with Oscar from now on...
will never be received in society again--
ever.
Oh, God, Ada. What is going to happen to him?
That's Oscar Wilde's boy.
Oscar, you must let me in the witness box.
If the jury can only hear what I have to say--
Bosie, darling boy.
As soon as they see you in all your golden youth...
and me in all my corruption--
You didn't corrupt me. I corrupted you, if anything.
That's not how it will seem.
But I must have my say. It's outrageous.
Everyone else has said everything, anything that came into his head.
But I'm the person all this is about.
It's me my father wants to get at, not you.
It's outrageous that I can't have my say.
It won't help, Bosie. It may actually make things worse.
But my father will win. I can't endure my father winning.
You must go away, dear boy.
I couldn't bear for them to arrest you.
I can't bear what they're saying about you in court.
Jesus Christ.
Good-bye, Bosie, dear boy.
Don't let anyone, anything, ever change your feeling for me...
change your love.
- See you next time. - Time's up, my lord.
Oscar, never. They never will. I won't let them.
You've been a great deal in the company of Lord Alfred Douglas?
Oh, yes.
- Did he read his poems to you? - Yes.
So, you can perhaps understand that...
some of his verses...
would not be acceptable to a reader with an ordinary balance to mind?
I'm not prepared to say.
It's a question of taste and temperament...
and individuality.
I should say that one man's poetry is another man's poison.
Yes, I daresay.
But in this poem by Lord Alfred Douglas...
''Two Loves''...
there is one love, true love...
which-- and I quote--
''fills the hearts of boy and girl with mutual flame.''
And, there is another:
''I am the love that dare not speak its name.''
Was that poem explained to you?
- I think it's clear. - There's no doubt as to what it means?
Most certainly not.
So, is it not clear that the love described...
relates to natural and unnatural love?
Then what is the love that dare not speak its name?
The love that dare not speak its name...
in this century...
is such a great affection...
of an elder for a younger man...
as there was between David and Jonathan...
such as Plato made the very basis of his philosophy...
and such as you may find in the sonnets of Michelangelo...
and Shakespeare.
It is, in this century, misunderstood--
so much misunderstood that it may be described as...
the love that dare not speak its name.
And, on account of it, I am placed where I am now.
It is beautiful. It is fine.
It is the noblest form of affection.
There's nothing unnatural about it.
It is intellectual...
and it repeatedly exists between an elder and a younger man...
when the elder has intellect...
and the younger man...
has all the joy, hope and glamour of life before him.
That it should be so, the world does not understand.
The world mocks at it...
and sometimes puts one in the pillory for it.
The crime of which you have been convicted...
is so bad...
that I shall pass the severest sentence...
that the law will allow.
In my judgment, it is totally inadequate for such a case as this.
It is the worst case I have ever tried!
The sentence of the court...
is that you will be imprisoned...
and held to hard labor...
- Stand aside, please. - for two years.
- Shame. - Pervert.
Pervert!
Shame on you!
Disgusting!
A slim thing, gold-haired like an angel...
stands always at my side.
He moves in the gloom like a white flower.
I thought but to defend him from his father. I thought of nothing else.
Now my life seems to have gone from me.
I'm caught in a terrible net.
But so long as I think he is thinking of me--
my sweet rose, my delicate flower, my lily of lilies--
it is in prison that I shall test the power of love.
I shall see if I can't make the bitter waters sweet...
by the intensity of the love I bear you.
He asked me not to change. Those were his last words to me--
''Don't change.''
Well, things are going to have to change when he comes out.
He'll have no money at all.
- So you're blaming me, too, are you? - I'm not blaming anyone.
Bosie, you're not the only person on this earth Oscar cares about.
You've always hated me, Robbie...
because Oscar loved and still loves me when you were just one of his boys.
I'm suffering just as much as he is, you know.
My life's ruined too.
I'm much younger than he is. I've hardly had any life, and it's ruined already.
When Oscar gets out, we'll live together properly.
We'll take a villa somewhere near here-- Posilipo...
- or Ischia. - Or Capri.
I'll take care of him.
I'll give him everything he wants.
I love him, Robbie.
Oscar's mine, and I'm going to have him.
''Years went over, and the giant grew very old and very feeble.
He couldn't play about anymore, so he sat in a huge armchair...
and watched the children at their games and admired his garden.
'I have many beautiful flowers, ' he said.
'But the children are the most beautiful flowers of all. '''
I'm afraid Cyril has got some idea why you're here.
I'm sending him to school in Germany.
I can't manage them on my own.
Your back isn't better then?
No, not really.
I may have to have an operation.
What I've done to you and the boys--
I can't--
I shall never forgive myself.
If we could choose our natures--
If we could only choose.
But it's no use.
Whatever our natures are, we must fulfill them...
or our lives-- my life--
would have been filled with dishonesty.
Even more dishonesty than there actually was.
I've always loved you, Constance.
You must believe me.
I don't see how you can have done--
not truly.
Not if all the time--
I didn't know.
''Know thyself,'' I used to say.
I didn't know myself.
I didn't know.
I suppose you want a divorce.
You have every reason.
I've been thinking, when you do come out--
when they let you out-- you can go to Switzerland or Italy...
write another play, get yourself back.
You can.
You're so clever. You can.
I don't want a divorce.
Will you ever let me see the children again?
Of course.
But there must be one condition:
Oscar, you must never see Bosie again.
If I saw Bosie now, I'd kill him.
The children love you, Oscar.
They'll always love you.
Did anyone tell you?
They've been performing Salome in Paris.
''The giant hastened across the grass and came near to the child.
And when he came quite close, his face grew red with anger.
And he said, 'Who hath dared to wound thee?'
For on the palms of the child's hands were the prints of two nails.
And the prints of two nails were on his little feet.
'Who hath dared to wound thee?' cried the giant.
'Tell me, that I may take my big sword and slay him. '
'Nay, 'answered the child.
'For these are the wounds of love. '''
Bosie thinks I'm jealous.
I think it will come as a shock to Bosie to realize...
that even he is relatively unimportant in the scheme of things.
But, no doubt, Bosie will be remembered as long as Oscar...
unfortunately.
I sometimes wonder...
if I hadn't...
pushed him into--
Don't.
Oscar was very lucky to meet you, Robbie.
Think who else it might have been.
Oh, I'll have that one. Thank you.
- Must you go abroad again at once? - I shouldn't be here now.
But has he got anywhere to go when he's released?
It'll have to be in France.
I'm going to see what I can arrange.
But here...
when he leaves prison--
- Good-bye, Mr. Harris. - Good-bye, sir.
Good-bye, Mr. Snow. Thank you.
My dear Sphinx.
How marvelous of you to know what hat to wear at 7:00 in the morning...
to meet a friend who's been away.
- No, I'll keep this. - What is it.
It's a letter to Bosie telling him...
how I love him but can never see him again.
I'm going to ask Robbie to have it copied out before I send it.
I rather fear Bosie might throw it on the fire.
I call it De Profundis. It comes from the very depths.
''I know not whether laws be right...
or whether laws be wrong.
All that we know who lie in jail...
is that the wall is strong...
and that each day is like a year--
a year whose days are long.
Yet each man kills the thing he loves.
By each, let this be heard.
Some do it with a bitter look...
some with a flattering word.
The coward does it with a kiss...
the brave man with a sword.
Some kill their love when they are young...
and some when they are old.
Some strangle with the hands of lust...
some with the hands of gold.
The kindest use a knife...
because the dead so soon grow cold. ''
I'm sure we can find an hotel near here.
Somewhere where you can work.
- I've decided to see him again, Robbie. - Yes.
- I thought you might. - I've nothing left.
I've lost my wife.
I've lost my children.
They won't allow me to see them now.
No one will ever read my plays or books again.
Yes, they will.
Bosie loves me more than he loves anyone else...
as much as he can love...
and allow himself to be loved.
I think we need some more wine.
I find that alcohol...
taken in sufficient quantities--
Can bring about all the effects of drunkenness.
''Life cheats us with shadows.
We ask it for pleasure. It gives it to us...
with bitterness and disappointment in its train.
And we find ourselves looking with dull heart of stone...
at the tress of gold-flecked hair...
that we had once so wildly worshipped...
and so madly kissed. ''
In this world, there are only two tragedies.
One is not getting what one wants.
The other is getting it.