Lord Henry Wotton had set himself early in life
to the serious study of the great aristocratic art
of doing absolutely nothing.
He lived only for pleasure,
but his greatest pleasure
was to observe the emotions of his friends
while experiencing none of his own.
He diverted himself by exercising a subtle influence
on the lives of others.
18, I think you said, sir.
Shall I wait, sir?
Yes.
Among lord Henry's friends was the painter Basil hallward.
He had been strangely secretive about his latest painting,
and lord Henry, sensing a mystery,
determined to discover what it was
that his friend wished to conceal.
Hello.
I'm sorry, milord. Mr. Hallward is not at home.
Mr. Hallward doesn't wish to be disturbed.
It's your best work, Basil.
Of course, i can't believe
anybody's really as handsome
as that portrait.
Who is he?
Why are you being so secretive about it?
You ought to send it to the grosvenor.
I shall not send it anywhere.
I've put too much of myself into it.
Ha ha ha!
I knew you'd laugh, but it's true.
There isn't any resemblance
between you and this adonis.
You have an intellectual expression,
and intellect destroys the beauty of any face.
Don't flatter yourself.
You're not the least like him.
Of course I'm not, and I'm glad of it.
The wisdom of buddha.
Why are you glad you're not like him?
We suffer for what the gods give us,
and I'm afraid Dorian Gray
will pay for his good looks.
Is that his name?
Yes. I didn't intend to tell you.
If I'm to keep visiting you,
I'll have to send you good sherry.
Why didn't you intend to tell me his name?
As I've grown older,
I've come to love secrecy.
I suppose that sounds foolish to you.
Come into the garden. It doesn't sound foolish.
You forget that I'm married.
The one charm of marriage
is that it makes a life of deception
absolutely necessary to both parties.
I believe you're a good husband
but that you're ashamed of your own virtues.
Your cynicism is simply a pose.
Being natural is simply a pose-
the most irritating pose I know.
Tell me the real reason
you won't exhibit the picture.
There's little to tell, Harry.
Besides, you won't believe it.
I'll believe anything,
provided it's quite incredible.
I'm afraid this will seem so.
There's something i can't quite understand,
something mystic about it.
Mystic?
I can't explain it,
but whenever Dorian poses for me,
it seems as if a power outside myself
were guiding my hand.
It's as if the painting had
a life of its own, independent of me.
That's why I won't exhibit it.
It belongs to Dorian Gray,
and I shall give it to him.
I want to meet him.
We shall be friends.
I always choose my friends for their good looks
and my enemies for their good intellects.
I despise your principles,
but I enjoy the way you express them.
I like persons better than principles
and persons with no principles
better than anything else.
I remember where I heard the name of Dorian Gray.
Where was it?
Don't look startled. It was at my aunt Agatha's.
She said she'd discovered a wonderful young man
to help her with her charities,
and his name was Dorian Gray.
I pictured somebody with spectacles
tramping about on huge feet,
so I avoided meeting him.
That's a very common butterfly, Basil- limenitis sevilla.
Hardly belongs in a gentleman's garden.
I'm glad you didn't meet Dorian Gray.
I don't ## want you to meet him.
Who's that at your piano, Basil?
You've come early today, Dorian.
Have i?
You must lend me these pieces.
That depends on how you sit today.
I thought the picture would be finished today.
It will be.
Please go on, mr. Gray.
This is lord Henry Wotton, an old oxford friend.
My aunt has spoken to me about you.
You're one of her favorites.
You shouldn't go in for philanthropy.
Harry, would you mind if I asked you to go?
Am I to go, mr. Gray?
Stay and explain about philanthropy.
Basil, you've said you liked your sitters
to have someone to chat to.
Sit down, then, Harry.
Dorian, get on the platform
and don't pay attention to lord Henry.
He has a bad influence over his friends,
with the exception of myself.
Have you really a bad influence?
There's no such thing as a good influence.
All influence is immoral.
Why?
Because the aim of life is self-development,
to realize one's nature perfectly.
That's what we're here for.
A man should live out his life fully and completely,
give form to every feeling,
expression to every thought, reality to every dream.
Every impulse that we suppress
broods in the mind and poisons us.
There's one way to get rid of a temptation,
and that's to yield to it.
Resist it, and the soul grows sick with longing
for the things it has forbidden to itself.
There's nothing that can cure the soul
but the senses,
just there's nothing
that can cure the senses but the soul.
Turn left, Dorian.
The gods have been good
to you, mr. Gray.
Why do you say that?
You have youth,
the one thing worth having.
I don't feel that, lord Henry.
Someday you'll feel it terribly.
What the gods give,
they quickly take away.
Time is jealous of you.
Don't squander the gold of your days.
Live! Let nothing be lost upon you.
Be afraid of nothing.
Your youth will last such a little time,
and you can never get it back.
As we grow older,
our memories are haunted by the exquisite temptations
we hadn't the courage to yield to.
The world is yours for a season.
It would be tragic if you realized too late,
as so many others do,
that there's only one thing in the world worth having,
and that is youth.
Dorian Gray had never heard
the praise of folly so eloquently expressed.
The creed of pleasure soared into a philosophy of life
while Dorian stood as if he were under a spell.
He felt afraid of lord Henry's ideas
and ashamed of himself for being afraid.
It was as if he were learning to know himself
for the first time,
as if a stranger had revealed
his own secret thoughts to him.
For the first time,
he became conscious of his youth
and of the fact
that one day he would lose it.
My visit hasn't been wasted.
I found a rare and beautiful butterfly.
It's very unusual.
Don't you think it's beautiful, mr. Gray?
Yes, lord Henry.
Sit down, Dorian.
I'm glad you met lord Henry after all.
Are you glad, mr. Gray?
I'm glad now.
I wonder if i shall always be glad.
Always? That's a dreadful word.
Women are so fond it.
They spoil romance by trying to make it last forever.
The only difference between caprice and lifelong passion
is that caprice lasts a little longer.
I believe our hostess has appeared.
You're just in time, darling,
to watch me sign Dorian's painting.
Can I sign it, too?
I think you're entitled to,
since you haven't missed a sitting.
"G" for "gladys."
Which do you prefer, gladys-
Dorian Gray or his picture?
I like Dorian.
You prefer him today,
but when you're a young lady,
you may prefer the portrait.
It will look as it does today,
but we shall be changed-
your uncle and i and even Dorian.
Dorian won't change.
Dorian will stay just as he is
till I'm grown.
Won't you, Dorian?
Of course I shall, darling.
You must say good-bye, precious.
Nanny's waiting. Come along.
Hurry. On your way.
What about me, young lady?
Has Dorian Gray stolen you from me completely?
Good-bye, lord Henry.
When this is known, i shall be
torn to shreds in every drawing room.
Shouldn't a gentleman remove his hat
in the presence of a lady, parker?
Ha ha!
I never take off my hat
except when I'm out of doors.
She'll be as lovely
as your sister was, Basil.
Yes.
But I'm afraid Dorian has stolen her heart
from me, too.
I must congratulate you, Basil.
Look at yourself, mr. Gray.
As I grow old,
this picture will remain always young.
If it were only the other way...
if it were I who would always be young
and the picture that would grow old.
That would be hard lines on your work, Basil.
I should object strongly.
You oughtn't to express such a wish around that cat.
It's an egyptian god, and it's quite capable
of granting your wish.
Lord Henry is right.
When one loses one's youth,
one loses everything.
Perhaps a cup of tea will bring you around, Dorian.
You will have some too, Harry-
or do you object to simple pleasures?
I adore simple pleasures.
They're the last refuge of the complex.
It's more than a painting. It's part of myself.
As soon as you're varnished and framed,
you'll be sent home.
Do whatever you like with yourself.
Send the egyptian cat.
The god and the picture shouldn't be separated.
If Dorian wants it.
If only the picture could change
and I could be always what I am now.
For that, I would give everything.
There's nothing in the whole world
i would not give.
I would give my soul for that.
Dorian began to venture alone on warm summer evenings
into surroundings which were strange to him.
Filled with curiosity about places and people
remote from his own experience,
he wandered to the haugh world of London,
the words of lord Henry
vibrating in his mind.
"Live! Let nothing be lost upon you.
Be afraid of nothing."
The two turtles is honored by the visit of a gentleman.
If you please, sir.
I give you
the sweetheart of the two turtles,
our own Sibyl Vane.
The snow was very plentiful
and crumbs were very few
when a weather-beaten sparrow through
a mansion window flew
her eye fell on a golden cage
a sweet love song she heard
sung by a pet canary there
a handsome yellow bird
he said to her, miss sparrow
I've been struck by cupid's arrow
will you share my cage with me?
She looked up at his castle
with its ribbon and its tassel
and in plaintive tones said she
good-bye, little yellow bird
I'd rather brave the cold
on a leafless tree
than a prisoner be
in a cage of gold
I'd gladly introduce you, sir,
but she's proud.
She won't meet anybody.
Come, my delightful dove!
Descend and make a pilgrimage with me
among these mortals.
The spoiled and petted yellow bird
could scarce believe it true
that a common sparrow should refuse
a bird with blood so blue
he told her the advantages
of riches and of gold
she answered that her liberty
for gold could not be sold
she said, i must be going
but he cried, no, no, it's snowing
and the wintry windstorm blows
stay with me, my little deary
for without you, 'twould be dreary
but she only sighed, ah, no
good-bye, little yellow bird
I'd gladly mate with you
i love you, little yellow bird
but I love my freedom, too
so, good-bye, little yellow bird
I'd rather brave the cold
on a leafless tree
than a prisoner be
in a cage
of
gold
she's taken with you, sir.
Say the word, and I'll take you backstage.
Thank you, no.
Night after night,
Dorian went to the two turtles to watch Sibyl Vane.
A patron of the arts, mrs. Vane.
He's come each evening for a fortnight.
He greatly admires your daughter.
If you will permit me, i have a request.
You're very kind, sir.
Miss Vane, will you sing
the little yellow bird for me... now?
She will, sir- gladly.
There's no one to play. Everyone's gone.
I think I might manage the accompaniment.
You will, won't you, deary?
Yes...
on one condition.
Please.
I apologize for my daughter.
So good-bye, little yellow bird
I'd rather brave the cold
on a leafless tree
than a prisoner be
in a cage of gold
it's wonderful.
Did... did you write it?
Frederic chopin...
for a woman he loved.
Her name was george sand.
Someday I'll tell you about it.
I should like that.
What did the music mean to you?
I don't know.
It is full of emotion,
but it's not happy.
No, it's not happy.
Why was he unhappy?
Perhaps because he felt his youth
slipping away from him.
What an odd thing for you to say.
Why?
You're so young.
Yes... and you also.
What is the music called?
Has it a name?
A kind of name.
It is called prelude.
Is this how you watch over Sibyl, mother?
James, your sister-
i wish I wasn't going to australia.
If only my articles hadn't been signed.
I want Sibyl to make a brilliant marriage.
Actresses often marry into upper classes.
Who is this young dandy?
I don't know, but he's rich.
What's his name, Sibyl?
What are his intentions?
I don't know his intentions,
but I know his name- sir tristan.
You don't know his name,
yet you permitted him to...
you ought not to have permitted such familiarity.
He is good. There is no evil in him.
Did you see his face?
No, but I wish i had,
because if he ever does you wrong, I'll kill him.
You're foolish, jim.
You talk like the melodramas
mother used to act in.
I received a great deal of gratifying attention
in those days.
Mother, watch over Sibyl while I'm gone.
##Jim.
You're going away tonight.
The ship will take you far away
over the dark waters.
Don't let me remember you
angry and troubled.
That's better.
Can't you read what people are
in their faces?
You think I'm silly
when I call him sir tristan,
but to me he's like one
of king arthur's knights
who took the vow of chivalry
to battle against all evildoers,
to defend the right,
to protect all women,
to be true in friendship
and faithful in love.
I've never heard a sweeter warbler.
Little yellow bird.
Late as usual, Harry.
Forgive me, aunt Agatha.
Punctuality is the thief of time,
Harry says.
Victoria, darling.
I love coming to your house, aunt Agatha.
It's one of the few places
I'm likely to meet my husband.
Oh. I'm always dropping it.
Mr. Gray has something to tell you.
We're dying to learn what it is.
It can wait until luncheon is over.
Harry, why do you want mr. Gray
to give up the east end?
He's a wonderful musician.
They love his playing.
The east end is a very important problem.
It's the problem of slavery,
and we try to solve it by amusing the slaves.
I suspect, lord Henry,
we're interested in the poor
to amuse ourselves,
especially as we grow older
and are unfit for other amusements.
Tell me how to become young again.
Can you remember any great errors
you committed in your youth, duchess?
A great many.
To regain one's youth, one must repeat one's follies.
A dangerous theory.
One of life's secrets.
Most people die of creeping common sense
and discover too late
that one never regrets one's mistakes.
One pays a terrible price.
We're overcharged for everything.
One pays in other ways than money.
What sort of ways, sir thomas?
I should fancy in remorse, in suffering,
in the consciousness of degradation.
No civilized man regrets a pleasure,
and no uncivilized man knows what a pleasure is.
I know what pleasure is-
it's to adore someone.
I think I can guess what you have to tell me.
Adoring someone is better than being adored.
Women treat us like humanity treats its gods.
They worship us and keep bothering us
to do something for them.
Harry, you're incorrigible.
Women give men the very gold of their lives.
But they invariably want it back in small change.
Women inspire us with the desire to do masterpieces
and prevent us from carrying them out.
I don't understand you.
You seem to know us women awfully well.
I'm analyzing women at present.
The subject is less difficult than I believed.
Women represent the triumph of matter over mind,
just as men represent
the triumph of mind over morals.
These views are horrifying, lady Agatha!
I did not expect to hear
the devil's advocate at your table.
I apologize for my intelligent remarks.
I'd forgotten you were a member of parliament.
You will forgive me if I leave at once.
Before the quail- the first of the season?
I ordered them especially for you.
Surely not before the quail, sir thomas.
Think with the liberals and eat with the tories.
How men argue!
I never know what they're talking about.
Do sit, sir thomas.
Lord Henry's ideas are demoralizing and delightful.
They're not to be taken seriously.
I confess.
I never could resist lady Agatha's quail.
What have you to tell me?
From what you said,
my guess is you've fallen in love.
I'm engaged to be married.
Where are we going, Harry?
Grosvenor square, number 7.
It's Dorian we're going to see?
We'll pick him up, then see his fiancee.
Dorian, engaged? To whom?
To an actress in a cheap vaudeville.
With dyed hair and a painted face.
Don't run down such things.
There's extraordinary charm in them.
Surely you can't be serious.
I hope I shall never be more serious.
You can't possibly approve.
I never approve or disapprove of anything.
Dorian proposes to marry a girl.
Every experience is of value,
and marriage is certainly an experience.
Dorian will make this girl his wife
and six months later
become infatuated with someone else.
He could be so unfaithful?
Faithfulness is merely laziness.
Number 7, sir.
I've been watching for you.
Go to lower euston road, number 22.
Lower euston road, sir?
Lower euston road.
They're always surprised
when I give that address.
Hurry!
I want you to meet her before she sings.
I hope you'll always be
this happy, Dorian.
Thank you, Basil.
Our engagement's still a secret.
What will your guardian say?
He's sure to be furious,
but there's nothing he can do.
When did you mention marriage?
I didn't make any formal proposal.
I said I loved her.
She said she was not worthy to be my wife.
Women are wonderfully practical.
In situations like that,
we forget to mention marriage.
They always remind us.
Sibyl has made me forget your poisonous theories-
theories about life, about pleasure.
Only pleasure is worth having a theory about.
It's nature's sign of approval.
When we're happy, we're good.
When we're good, we're not always happy.
Sibyl is the answer to your cynicism.
You'll understand when you see her.
So, good-bye
little yellow bird
I'd rather brave the cold
on a leafless tree
than a prisoner be
in a cage of gold
this marriage is quite right.
The moment we met her, i was convinced.
She's charming and innocent- transparently so.
I knew you would say that.
She's all that,
but I don't agree with Basil.
She loves you so much,
you have no need to marry her.
What wickedness are you contemplating?
I should be angry, Harry,
but I'm too happy.
Sibyl is sacred.
Only sacred things are worth touching.
I begin to find you disgusting.
Don't listen to him, Dorian.
Don't worry, Basil. I'm immune to his ideas.
Then I needn't tell you
how I'd proceed.
What would you do, Harry?
I should invite her to my house
to see Basil's portrait.
I'd ask her not to leave.
She'd be shocked. I'd pretend to be disappointed.
If she still wished to go, I'd become cold,
ask her to let herself out,
saying I couldn't bear sad farewells or something.
If she left, I'd believe her to be
as good as she is beautiful
and marry her.
I've always thought your wickedness supposed.
I know better now. You're an unmitigated cad.
Will you try my experiment, Dorian?
Miss Vane, has sir tristan-
as you've charmingly called him-
ever invited you to see the portrait
Basil hallward has made of him?
No. I should love to see it. May i?
Of course, darling- tonight, if you wish.
I shall always remember this room
just as it is now...
the lamplight, you at the piano,
my own happiness.
Your clock thinks it's time
for me to go.
Clocks can't help being disagreeable.
They think it's their duty.
It's that cat.
I thought I saw its eyes move.
Perhaps you did.
Lord Henry says it's one of the 73 great gods of egypt.
Doesn't it frighten you?
It does, a little.
Listen to this.
"Dawn follows dawn, and nights grow old,
"and all the while, this curious cat
"lies crouching on the chinese mat
"with eyes of satin rimmed with gold.
"Get hence, you loathsome mystery.
"Hideous animal, get hence.
"You wake in me each bestial sense.
"You make me what i would not be.
"You make my creed a barren sham.
"You wake foul dreams...
of sensual life."
What a strange poem.
Who wrote it?
A brilliant young irishman out of oxford.
His name is oscar wilde.
Why do you look at me so strangely?
What would you do, Sibyl,
if I should say to you,
don't leave me now, don't go home?
What would you do, Sibyl?
I suppose I should have expected
a conventional reaction.
Good night, then.
Good night.
You don't mind
letting yourself out, do you?
I can't bear sad farewells.
A wise friend
warned me that your innocence,
upon which i would have staked my life,
would fail to meet the test I set before you.
I called his wisdom cynicism.
Now I know better.
You've killed my love.
You have been false
to the ideal I'd formed of you.
You used to stir my imagination.
Now you are nothing to me.
I will never see you again
or mention your name or think of you.
Henceforth, I shall live only for pleasure.
Everything else is meaningless,
and if this leads me to the destruction of my soul,
only you are responsible.
Do not try to see me.
I shall leave england and not return for a long time.
I'm sending with this letter a gift of money
which will compensate you
for any disappointment you may feel.
I have been living in a land of illusions.
Now I shall make an end of the dreams.
My real life begins-
my own life,
in which you cannot possibly have any part.
Five minutes, miss Vane.
In spite of himself,
Dorian was troubled by what he had done.
His uneasy conscience made him avoid those he knew.
All night, he had wandered alone
through the dimly lit streets and evil-looking houses
of the London haugh world.
When at last he returned
to his silent, shuttered house in mayfair,
he could not overcome
a sense of something... ominous impending.
His eye fell on the portrait
Basil hallward had painted of him.
In the dim, shaded light,
the face appeared to him to be a little... changed.
The expression looked somehow different.
One would have said
that there was a touch of cruelty in the mouth.
It was very strange.
There was no doubt
that the whole expression had altered.
The lines of cruelty about the mouth
were unmistakable.
There was no such expression on## his ## face.
If only the picture
could change
and I could be always as I am now.
For that, I would give everything.
There's nothing in the whole world
i would not give.
I would give my soul for that.
But surely his wish had not been fulfilled.
Such things were impossible.
It was monstrous even to think of it.
What if someone else observed the horrible change-
his valet, perhaps?
What if Basil hallward asked to look at his own picture?
But he was being ridiculous.
This was a mere hallucination-
an illusion brought on by his troubled senses.
The picture had not changed.
He was mad to think so.
A painted canvas could not alter.
He would look at it again
after he had slept, when he was calmer,
and he would laugh at this fantastic idea.
But in the afternoon
when he returned to examine the portrait again,
fantastic as the idea was,
his memory of that cruel look was disturbingly vivid.
It was true.
The expression had altered.
There was no doubt of it.
It was incredible, and yet, it was a fact.
Was this portrait to become for him
the emblem of his own conscience?
Would it teach him to loathe his own soul?
But if this painting
was to be his conscience made visible,
he would let it instruct him.
He would give it no reason to reproach him.
He would live purely and nobly.
He had been cruel to Sibyl Vane,
but he could make that right.
She could still be his wife.
He would marry her. They could be happy together.
He implored her forgiveness. He blamed himself.
He gave way to the luxury of self-reproach.
When he finished the letter,
he felt that he had been forgiven.
Dorian, let me in. I must see you.
Open the door, Dorian.
I'll not go away until I see you.
Dorian, let me in!
You shouldn't lock yourself in.
I'm sorry for it all.
You mean about Sibyl Vane.
Yes, of course.
It's all right. I'm grateful to you.
I've learned to know myself better.
From now on, I'll do
what my conscience bids me.
What on earth are you talking about?
I'm going to marry Sibyl Vane.
You're going to say something cynical about marriage.
Don't say it.
I asked Sibyl to marry me.
I won't break my word.
Then you don't know.
Know what?
Haven't you read the morning paper?
No, I haven't.
What is it, Harry? What's happened?
Sibyl Vane is dead.
That's why I hurried here to see you.
I wanted to see you first.
I assumed you knew.
Don't get mixed up in the inquest.
They don't know your name at the theater.
Did Sibyl...
tell me everything, Harry.
It was obviously not an accident.
It must be put that way to the public.
12:30, she was leaving the theater
with her mother.
She went back to her dressing room.
They found her lying on the floor.
She'd swallowed something-
by mistake, they say.
She died instantaneously.
It's tragic, of course,
but you mustn't brood over it.
You must see it
in its proper perspective.
Put it out of your mind.
Come dine with me.
Afterwards, we'll see## don giovanni.
You can come to my sister's box.
So I have murdered Sibyl Vane,
as surely as if I'd cut her throat.
I can't see why you should blame yourself.
She thought she'd lost you,
but no woman destroys herself
who isn't already unbalanced.
Where's your sherry?
If you'd married this girl,
you'd both have been wretched.
It would have failed.
I remember your saying
good resolutions are always made too late.
Mine certainly were.
View this tragedy as an episode
in the spectacle of life.
What is it that has happened?
Someone has killed herself for love of you.
I wish I'd had such an experience.
The women who have admired me
have always insisted on living on
long after I've ceased to care for them.
They become stout and tedious.
They go in for reminiscences-
that awful memory of woman.
I found myself next to such a woman the other night.
She had once proposed
to sacrifice the world for me.
That moment fills one with the terror of eternity.
It happened years ago.
She said I'd spoiled her life.
However, she ate an enormous dinner.
No woman would have done for me
what Sibyl did for you.
Will you dine with me tonight?
I don't feel up to it.
Perhaps you'll join me at the opera.
My sister's box number is 27.
You'll see her name on the door.
I don't want you to miss the duet.
Mr. Hallward, mr. Gray's gone to the opera.
To the opera?
Yes, sir. Is there any message, sir?
No. No. I'll come by in the morning.
In the morning, Dorian no longer wanted
the consolation of his friend, nor his reproaches.
His pride and his sense of guilt
prompted him to assume an air of indifference.
Hello, Basil. Sorry to keep you.
Have you had breakfast?
Yes, thank you.
I'm famished. Mind if I eat?
Of course not.
You went to the opera
with Sibyl Vane lying dead?
What is past is past.
You call yesterday the past?
Shallow people require years
to get rid of an emotion.
A man who is master of himself
can end a sorrow as easily as he invents pleasures.
I won't be at the mercy of my emotions.
I want to use them.
Something has changed you completely.
You look exactly the same,
but you talk as if you had no heart.
You've come too late.
If you'd come yesterday at a particular moment-
half past 5:00 or quarter to 6:00-
you would have seen how deeply I was affected.
Harry had no idea what i was going through.
I suffered immensely.
Then it passed away.
I cannot repeat an emotion.
No one can.
This isn't you talking, Dorian.
These are Harry's ideas.
It has nothing to do with Harry.
Harry didn't give you that yellow book I saw?
It's vile, evil, corrupt, decadent.
I detest it.
What would you like me to read, Basil?
Since you ask me...
the light of asia.
I'm never without it.
The story of buddha?
The story of buddha, a good man.
Promise me you'll read it.
I promise.
You've done a sketch of Sibyl.
Charming. May I have it?
Of course.
I must go now, Dorian.
I'm relieved to find you in good spirits
in spite of what's happened.
It's good of you to be so concerned.
Before I go, I'd like to look
at my painting of you.
There's a screen in front of it.
I thought the room looked different.
The light was too strong.
Surely not. It's an admirable place for it.
Wait.
You must not look at it.
Not look at my work? You're not serious.
Why shouldn't i?
I don't offer any explanation,
but if you try to look at that picture,
I'll never speak to you again.
What on earth is the matter with you?
I'm planning to exhibit it next month.
You told me a month ago you'd never exhibit it.
You told Harry the same thing.
At that time, the painting had
a strange fascination for me.
It seemed to have a life of its own.
It affected me so much,
i felt I couldn't let it be seen publicly.
Perhaps you've seen
the same mysterious quality in it.
Have you noticed something curious in the painting-
something that at first did not strike you
but revealed itself to you suddenly?
I see you did.
I saw something in it-
something that seemed to be very curious.
You were right.
There can be something fatal about a portrait.
I think I understand what you feel,
and I respect your wishes.
Perhaps someday you'll recover from it as I did.
I'll certainly not let it destroy our friendship.
I'm glad of that.
Good-bye, Dorian.
Good-bye, Basil.
It had been mad of him
to allow the thing to remain, even for an hour,
in a room to which his friends had access.
Henceforth, he must be on his guard against everyone.
At the top of the house was his old schoolroom,
which had not been used for years.
No one ever entered it.
Nothing was in it but old schoolbooks and toys
gathering dust and cobwebs.
The picture could be safely hidden away there.
He would lock it up.
He himself would keep the key.
There was no need for the servants
ever to enter the room.
He would have to let victor go
and the others.
He must bring new servants into the house.
In this room,
every moment of his childhood and its stainless purity
came back to him.
Here, among the innocent souvenirs of his childhood,
the hideous portrait
would be forever hidden away.
The face painted in the canvas
could grow bestial, sodden, and unclean,
and no one would ever see it-
no one... except himself.
He was to have eternal youth
while the portrait bore the burden of his shame.
He was caught in an evil destiny.
As the years passed,
the miracle of Dorian's changeless youth
caused wonder but rarely suspicion.
Even those who had heard
the most evil things against him-
strange rumors about his mode of life
which became the chatter of the clubs-
could not believe anything to his dishonor
when they saw him.
He had the look of one
who had kept himself unspotted from the world.
But while he fascinated many,
there were not a few who distrusted him.
Curious stories were current about him.
It was rumored he'd been seen in a low den
in the distant parts of whitechapel.
His extraordinary absences became notorious,
and when he reappeared again in society,
men would whisper to each other in corners
or look at him with cold, searching eyes.
Some of those who had been most intimate with him
appeared, after a time, to shun him.
Women who, for his sake, had set convention at defiance
would seem to go pale
if Dorian Gray entered the room.
He could not endure to be long out of england
or to be separated from the picture.
He was afraid that during his absence
someone might gain access
to the room where it was hidden.
Then suddenly, some night he would go down
to dreadful places near blue gate fields
and stay there day after day.
When he had recovered from visits to the abyss,
he would stand in front of the picture,
sometimes loathing it and himself
but filled at other times
with that pride of individualism
that is half the fascination of evil.
He would examine with minute care
the hideous lines that scarred the wrinkling forehead
or crawled around the heavy, sensual mouth,
wondering which were more horrible-
the signs of sin or the signs of age.
He found reasons to justify his actions.
He told himself that man was a being
with myriad lives and myriad sensations.
To live the simple, sincere, honest life
was hardly to live at all.
Was insincerity such a terrible thing?
Dorian thought not.
Twas merely a method
by which we could multiply our personalities.
Yet, there was one person
towards whom he found it difficult to be insincere.
It was Basil hallward's niece gladys,
who had loved him since she was a child.
So, good-bye, little yellow bird
I'd rather brave the cold
on a leafless tree
than a prisoner be
in a cage of gold
i was close by and came in.
Found this old song in your piano bench.
It's charming.
So is the face my uncle sketched on it.
He did do it, didn't he?
I know his style so well.
Did she sing this song?
Who is she?
Do tell me about her.
She died many years ago,
when you were only a little girl.
Did you love her very much, Dorian?
Yes.
Good-bye, Dorian.
I'm looking forward to your party.
It will be wonderful.
I'm not as lovely as that picture, am i?
Of course not.
I think I've discovered
why Dorian hasn't proposed to me.
I've decided what to do.
What have you decided?
I'm going to ask him to marry me-
tonight, perhaps.
What about David Stone?
He wouldn't take you to Dorian's party
if he knew your intentions.
Of course he would,
but I don't intend to tell him.
No, don't tell David.
You cad! I never thoughtu'd eavesdrop.
Don't be alarmed about Dorian, mr. Hallward.
Gladys will marry me.
I have nothing to say about it?
I wouldn't let you marry that devil.
Don't say anything against him.
There are others to say it for me.
There's no evil in Dorian.
Anybody can see that by looking at him.
He hasn't asked you.
I'll ask him myself, tonight.
In front of those people?
I'll get him alone. It's a big house.
Good night, sir.
Good night, David.
What's wrong, Dorian?
Is there something i don't know about?
You must have heard
the stories they tell of me.
Don't they frighten you?
I don't believe them.
Suppose I told you they're true?
I will never believe anything evil of you.
What do ## you ## know of evil?
I only know there is none in you.
If you had some great trouble, Dorian,
i would want to share it.
If I were to marry you,
it would be an incredible wickedness.
Is that a way of saying you don't love me?
If you like.
It's very beautiful, Dorian.
Thank you.
Would you find David for me?
I must go now.
I've been exploring your house, Dorian.
It's better than a museum.
You must have some priceless possessions in that room
if you keep them locked up.
May I see them sometime?
What rare things have you stored away there, Dorian?
I suspected as much.
I want to leave now, David.
Of course.
Good night, Dorian.
Good night.
It was november 9th, the eve of his 38th birthday,
as Dorian often remembered afterwards.
He was walking home about 11:00 from lord Henry's.
A strange sense of fear for which he could not account
came over him at the sight of Basil hallward
and prevented him from making any sign of recognition.
Dorian!
I thought it was you- or your fur coat-
but I wasn't sure.
Didn't you recognize me?
In this fog?
I can't recognize grosvenor square.
My house must be somewhere about,
but I'm not certain.
I've been waiting for you since 9:00.
I told your man to go to bed.
I'm off to paris tonight.
I wanted to see you before I left.
I'm sorry you're going away.
I suppose you'll be back soon?
I shall be gone for several months.
I'm taking a studio in paris
to finish a picture i have in my head.
Gladys will join me later on.
May I come in for a moment?
Won't you miss your train?
It leaves at 12:15. It's only 11:00.
I was going to the club to look for you.
Luggage won't delay me. I've sent on my things.
I have only this bag.
Come in, or the fog will get into the house.
I hope you're not going to talk
about anything serious.
Nothing is serious nowadays-
at least, nothing should be.
What I have to say is## serious, Dorian.
Don't frown like that.
You make it so much more difficult for me.
I hope it's not about myself.
I'm tired of myself.
It is about yourself, and I must say it to you.
I'll only keep you half an hour.
You sound terrifying, Basil.
It's for your sake I'm speaking.
I think you should know
the things that are being said against you.
I don't want to know them.
I love scandals about other people,
but scandals about myself don't interest me.
They lack novelty.
You must be interested in your own reputation.
Mind you, I don't believe these rumors.
I can't believe them when I see you.
There aren't any secret vices.
Such things write themselves
across a man's face.
You, with your untroubled youth-
i find it hard to credit anything against you.
When I hear these things people whisper,
i don't know what to say.
I absolve you
from the necessity of defending me.
You can't dismiss these charges.
Why does the duke leave a room when you enter?
Not because he knows about my life,
but because i know about his.
Why are your friendships fatal to people?
That boy in the guards committed suicide.
What about adrian singleton and lord wayne's son?
What gentleman would be seen with either of them?
The boy in the guards loved a woman
he felt he couldn't live without.
Am I to blame?
Wayne's son marries a woman no one receives.
Is that my fault?
Adrian writes his friend's name across a bill.
Am I his keeper?
One can judge a man
by the effect he has on his friends.
Yours seem filled with an insatiable madness for pleasure.
And when I think how fond gladys is of you...
what has gladys to do with it?
Nothing, I hope,
and nothing in the future,
if I can prevent it.
I'm told things
it seems impossible to doubt.
Lord wallace was my friend at oxford.
He showed me a letter his wife had written
when she was dying.
Your name was implicated
in the most terrible confession I ever read.
I told him that I knew you,
and you were incapable of anything of the kind.
No. Do I know you?
Before I could answer that,
i should have to see your soul.
To see my soul.
Yes, to see your soul,
but only god can do that.
You shall see it yourself, tonight.
Why shouldn't you look at it?
It's your own handiwork.
You can tell the world about it afterward,
if you like.
No one will believe you.
You've chattered enough about corruption.
Now you'll look at it.
I'll show you my soul.
I can make no sense out of what you're saying.
I only ask you to give me some answer
to the horrible charges against you.
Tell me they're untrue, and I'll believe you.
Come upstairs, Basil.
I keep a diary from day to day.
I'll show it to you.
I don't want to read anything.
I want a plain answer to my question.
You'll find that upstairs.
You won't have to read long.
You're the one man in the world
who's entitled to know everything about me.
You've had more to do with my life
than you think.
You think it's only god who sees the soul?
In spite of the indescribable corruption of the portrait,
Basil was still able to recognize
his painting of Dorian.
It was from within, apparently,
that the foulness and horror came.
It was as if some moral leprosy
were eating the thing away.
He could not believe he had made this portrait,
yet there was his name,
just as he had painted it.
But this is monstrous.
It's beyond nature, beyond reason.
What does it mean?
On the day you finished this painting,
i made a wish.
Perhaps ## you ## would call it a prayer.
My wish was granted.
You told me you had destroyed my painting.
I was wrong.
It has destroyed me.
It has the eyes of a devil.
Each of us has heaven and hell in him.
If this is true,
if this is what you've done with your life,
it is far worse than anything said of you.
Do you know how to pray, Dorian?
What is it we were taught to say in our boyhood-
lead us not into temptation,
forgive us our sins,
wash away our iniquities.
Let us say them together.
It's too late, Basil.
The prayer of your pride was answered.
The prayer of your repentance
may be answered also.
Do you think i haven't tried?
I tell you, it's no use.
Isn't there a verse somewhere-
"though your sins be as scarlet,
yet I will make them white as snow"?
Only last week, gladys recalled
the day this painting was finished.
She remembered putting her initial
under my signature.
There it is, just as she made it.
If she could see it now.
I can still pray, Dorian, if you can't.
Gladys must never know,
yet sometime, somehow,
Basil might reveal his secret to her,
the one person in the world
whose good opinion was indispensable to him.
An uncontrollable feeling of hatred for Basil
came over him,
together with a terror
of the knowledge he had given him
and the use he might make of it.
Panic seized him.
He felt like a hunted animal- cornered, desperate.
Oh!
It was as if the painting
had sweated a dew of blood.
He felt that he had struck a mortal blow
not only at his friend, but at himself.
It seemed to him unbearable
that what he had done could never be undone.
Basil was dead.
Men were strangled in england for what he had done,
and yet, what evidence was there against him?
Basil had left the house at 11:00.
No one had seen him come in again.
Most of the servants were at selby.
His valet had gone to bed.
Paris! It was to paris that Basil had gone,
by the midnight train, as he had intended.
I'm sorry to wake you, francis.
I forgot my latchkey.
What time is it?
Half past 12:00, sir.
Wake me at 9:00 in the morning.
I have work to do.
Yes, sir.
Did anyone call this evening?
Mr. Hallward, sir.
He stayed till 11:00
and then went to catch his train.
He was leaving for paris.
Did he leave any message?
He said he would write you from paris
if he didn't find you at your club.
Thank you, francis.
Is there anything more, sir?
I'm writing a letter.
Deliver it early in the morning
to mr. Allen Campbell.
You'll find the address on the envelope.
Yes, sir. Good night, sir.
When Allen Campbell received his letter,
he would come.
He would come at once.
Allen would help him.
He was the only one who could " help him.
But what if Allen Campbell should be out of england?
Days would pass before he could come.
Perhaps he would refuse to come.
Mr. Allen Campbell, sir.
This is kind of you, Allen.
You said it was a matter of life and death.
Listen to this.
"I sent my soul through the invisible,
"some letter of that after-life to spell:
"And by and by my soul returned to me,
"i myself am heaven and hell."
That's quite good, don't you think?
I didn't come to discuss the verses of omar khayyam.
Of course not. Please sit down.
I'll tell you why I sent for you.
In a locked room at the top of this house,
a room to which no one but myself has access,
a dead man is lying across a table.
He's been dead 10 hours.
Who he is, why he died,
are matters that do not concern you.
What you must do-
there's no need for you to go on.
Your horrible secrets don't interest me.
They'll have to interest you.
You are the one man who is able to save me.
I've seen your name in scientific reviews
in connection with certain experiments.
What has that to do with you?
You have got to destroy the thing upstairs-
destroy it so that not a vestige is left.
Nobody saw this person come into the house.
When he is missed,
not a trace of him must be found here.
Change him and everything that belongs to him,
including his coat and his traveling bag,
into a handful of ashes.
You must be insane
to suppose I'd lift a finger to help you.
It was suicide.
What drove him to it?
You won't do this for me?
How can you ask me, of all men,
to mix myself up in this horror?
Allen, it was murder.
I killed him.
He was responsible for the ruin of my life.
He didn't intend it,
but the result was the same.
You are certain to be caught.
No man commits a crime
without doing something stupid.
I'll have no part of it.
We were friends once, Allen.
I regret that.
If you don't help me, i am lost.
They will hang me.
Let them.
You refuse?
Yes.
I entreat you.
It's useless.
I'm sorry, Allen.
You leave me no alternative.
I've written a letter.
Here it is.
You see the address.
If you don't help me, i must send it.
If you don't help me,
i! Will "send it.
You know what the result will be.
The thing is quite simple, Allen.
It would kill her.
I didn't think you would want
her name involved in such a scandal.
I cannot do it.
You have no choice.
I shall have to go home
and get some things from the laboratory.
You've saved my life.
Dorian dined that evening with lady narborough,
who had what lord Henry described
as the remains of a really remarkable ugliness.
You left early last night, Dorian.
Did you go home or to the club?
Why are you so inquisitive?
I came in at 12:30.
If you want corroborative evidence,
you can ask my man.
Two hours unaccounted for, Dorian.
I suspect they'll bear investigation-
or perhaps they will not.
You've hardly touched my dinner.
I believe you're in love.
I haven't been in love for a week,
not since madame de ferrol left town.
She's a wonderful woman.
When her third husband died, her hair turned gold.
Husbands of beautiful women
belong to the criminal classes.
The world says you're wicked.
What world says that?
It can only be the## next world.
Everyone I know says he's wicked.
It's monstrous the way people go about
saying things behind one's back
that are absolutely and entirely true.
Women love us for our defects.
If we have enough of them,
they forgive us anything.
No one will persuade me that mr. Gray is wicked.
I shall never forgive him for remaining a bachelor.
Shouldn't we find him a wife, lord Henry?
I'm always telling him so.
I shall go through debrett
and draw out a list of eligible young ladies.
With their ages?
Only slightly edited.
I want it to be a suitable alliance.
I shall save you the trouble of looking.
I have chosen her, if she will have me.
I don't believe it.
Gladys, darling, will you marry me?
Of course I will, darling.
This is the only marriage
I've ever approved of.
How terribly exciting!
I congratulate you both.
For months, the mysterious disappearance of Basil hallward
was the sensation of London.
You don't mind if i work while we talk?
Not at all.
It's an urgent matter.
Tell me what you discovered in france.
Nothing at all.
We hunted up everyone
acquainted with my uncle.
Not one had seen him.
The paris police
don't believe he arrived in france.
Here at scotland yard,
we're equally convinced he did leave London.
The man in the Gray ulster
who boarded at victoria station
was undoubtedly Basil hallward.
What are we to do now?
You're both young.
I understand you're engaged to marry.
Go on with your own lives peacefully.
Believe me, that's the best course.
Scotland yard will not forget Basil hallward.
I thought gladys should go away for a while.
I'm going to my country place at selby tomorrow.
Gladys will join me with friends on thursday.
We'd be delighted if you'd join us.
I can't get away,
but I'm glad you're going.
The diversion will do you good.
Thank you, sir robert.
You've been very kind.
Not at all.
Mr. Gray,
are you acquainted
with a young man named Allen Campbell?
Yes. At one time, we were great friends.
It's been a long time since I've seen him.
Why do you ask?
I've just received a tragic notice.
This morning, Allen Campbell died
by his own hand.
Why on earth should Allen Campbell...
i thought you might give me a clue.
He had everything to live for.
He was achieving a name for himself in science.
He left no note, no letter, no explanation?
None. Whatever drove him to it,
he took the secret with him.
How little we really know
what goes on inside a man.
Yes.
You've been sad all evening.
Is it Allen Campbell?
Perhaps.
I'm sorry.
Let's be married soon- in a fortnight.
A simple wedding
with only our closest friends.
A fortnight? You call that soon?
Good night, darling.
I'll come to selby on the thursday train with janet.
I'll be at the station.
Allen Campbell.
Would Allen's blood be on the painting now?
There were other roads to forgetfulness
than the one that Allen took.
Where to, sir?
Blue gate fields.
Yes, sir.
One day, we shall be awakened
with suffering and dismay
to the realization that the soul is not a superstition
nor the spirit of man a material substance
that can be viewed under a microscope.
The eternal words are as true today
as when he uttered them.
"What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world
and lose his soul?"
The soul is not an illusion.
It is a terrible reality.
It can be bought and sold and bartered away.
It can be poisoned or made perfect.
That man, rich or poor,
who has the light of faith and charity within himself,
even though he were plunged into the very pit of darkness,
would still enjoy the clear light of day.
But the wretched creature whose soul is filled
with dark thoughts and foul deeds
must dwell in darkness
even though he walk under the noonday sun.
He must carry his own vile dungeon round with him.
What's that you're playing?
It has a name, hasn't it?
A kind of name.
It's called ## prelude.
Play something else.
Why you like that music?
I heard someone play that piece before...
18 years ago.
A woman?
Every time I get back to London,
i look for him.
Sir tristan, my sister called him,
because he was like a knight.
If he was in rangoon or valparaiso,
I'd find him,
but in London it's like looking
for a needle in a haystack.
I don't know his real name.
I don't even know
what he looks like.
When you find him, what will you do?
Maybe he's dead already.
Did you think of that?
I'll keep on looking.
You're not english.
What is "english"?
There are men, and there are women.
This is sir tristan, kate, darling.
Don't call me that, adrian.
I heard lord Henry call you sir tristan.
At the time, i thought it fit.
Why don't we see you?
I have all I need here-
drink and drugs and no friends.
I had too many friends.
Oh, he's drawing a picture of you, sir.
Come and look at it.
What would you like-
a song, poem, painting?
I do all three surpassingly well.
It seems to me
there's something lacking.
I have it.
But grim to see...
is a gallows tree.
Good-bye, adrian.
And green or dry, a man must die
before it bears its fruit.
Good-bye, sir tristan.
What did you call him?
Sit down.
I'll draw your picture
for the price of three drinks...
four drinks.
Sir tristan, you said.
And sir tristan rode forth into the forest,
seeking his only love.
He has gone to kill your friend.
Justice has come to england...
without wig or gown.
Come on, kate.
If it's money you want-
I'm Sibyl Vane's brother.
Does that mean anything to you?
No, nothing.
Why are you called sir tristan?
It happens to be my name.
You're lying. 18 years, I've been looking for you.
How old do you think I am?
Why didn't you murder him?
They could only have hanged you for it.
He's not the man I'm looking for.
He's too young.
How old do you think he is?
22, I'd say.
Ha ha ha!
What are you laughing at?
Dorian Gray has looked 22 for the last 20 years.
What did you say his name was?
In your case,
this strange impulse to be good
is merely the effect
of your approaching marriage.
It'll wear off.
Would you pull that blind?
The truth is, i want to be better.
At least it will be a novel sensation.
It needn't become a habit.
Marriage is a habit- a bad habit.
I trust it won't make you
a hopelessly reformed character.
What are people talking about in London?
They were talking about Basil's disappearance.
Now they're taken up
with Allen Campbell's suicide.
What do you think happened to Basil?
I suppose we shall be told
that he's been seen in San Francisco.
Everyone who disappears
is said to be seen in San Francisco.
It must be a delightful city.
He was a fine painter, I'm certain.
The best thing Basil did
was that wonderful portrait of you.
What is your secret?
You don't look a day older than you did
when that portrait was painted.
Perhaps I'll tell you someday.
To get back my youth, I'd do anything
except get up early, exercise,
or be respectable.
I sometimes think I'd give anything
if I could change and grow old.
My good resolutions may have come too late.
Though Dorian placed guards about the estate,
the consciousness of being hunted, snared, tracked down
began to dominate him.
In the small hours of the night,
when every sound is seized upon
by the distraught imagination,
remorse and terror laid hold of him.
Each detail of his crimes
came back to him in nightmares with added horror,
haunting him relentlessly
with the living death of his soul.
With the day came the cruel necessity
to dissemble to gladys and to his guests.
Have you had good sport?
Not very good.
The birds have gone to the open.
It may be better after lunch.
Don't shoot it, geoffrey.
Nonsense!
I've hit a beater!
The idiot got in front of the gun.
Stop shooting! A man's hurt!
Sir, where is he?
Here. Why on earth don't you keep your men back?
Spoiled my shooting for the day.
I've told them
the shooting's stopped for today.
It wouldn't look well to go on.
Is the man-
he's dead. He received the charge in his chest.
Thornton. Come in.
I suppose you've come about the accident.
Was he married? Did he have dependents?
I'll write them any sum you think necessary.
We don't know him.
That's why i came to you.
Wasn't he one of your men?
Never saw him before. Seems like a sailor.
A sailor?
Looks as if he'd been a sort of sailor-
tattooed on both arms.
Wasn't anything found on him that would tell his names?
Money-not much- and a six-shooter.
No name of any kind.
Decent-looking man, but rough-like.
Sort of sailor, we think.
Where is the body?
In an empty stable at the home farm.
Show me his face.
Come in.
What is it, Dorian?
Oh, but you haven't changed.
You'll be late for dinner.
I wanted to look at you.
I know, darling.
I've felt that way so often about you.
Good-bye, gladys.
Good-bye?
Until half past 8:00.
Go on.
Shall I go on, sir?
Yes.
Dorian!
David, what brings you to selby?
Have you seen Dorian?
What is it? What's happened?
Dorian's gone to London.
Didn't you know?
David passed him
on his way from the station.
He looked black as thunder.
I thought he'd found out what I'd been up to.
What have you been up to?
You'll put it down to jealousy.
I don't deny jealousy's mixed up in it.
I had a dreadful presentiment.
When you announced the marriage,
i grew desperate to stop it.
What is it you've done, David?
There's a locked room in Dorian's house.
I didn't attach any importance to it at first.
He could have locked up anything.
Then one of Dorian's valets
came to see me about a position.
It struck me how often Dorian changed his servants.
This one told me Dorian locked himself
in that room at all hours.
One night, he heard a noise
and went to investigate.
Dorian came out and looked at him
as if he could kill him, he said.
He accused him of spying and sacked him.
I felt if I could get into that room,
i might find something to stop this marriage.
And did you get in?
I bribed one of the servants
to get me an impression of the lock.
Here's the key.
I waited until Dorian came down here to selby
and then let myself in.
I know you'll despise me for stooping to this,
but it doesn't matter what you think of me
if I can stop you from marrying him.
What did you find in the room?
Nothing, really.
It's an old schoolroom with books
and a portrait with a covering.
Portrait? Of whom?
I don't know.
The original must be a monstrous person,
if an original exists.
Has a vague family resemblance to Dorian-
a sort of middle-aged, mad, gruesome uncle
with a debauched face and blood all over it.
Your uncle painted it.
My uncle never painted such a picture.
He signed it.
I'd been counting so much
on finding something to help me
that I decided I'd been doing Dorian an injustice.
I had an impulse to come here
and make a clean breast of it,
give you my blessing
and ask your forgiveness.
Describe the portrait in greater detail.
There's a curious cat,
like the one in Dorian's drawing room,
only in the portrait the eyes shine
in an evil way that's indescribable.
Did you notice anything unusual
about the signature?
No, i don't think so.
Now that I see you, gladys,
i can't say what I intended to.
I know that this marriage is wrong.
There's something strange and evil in Dorian.
Was there a letter "g"
under the signature on that painting, David,
like this?
I believe there was. How did you know?
Yes, gibson?
Mr. Gray asked me to bring you this letter
when I got back from the station.
He said I must give it to you in person.
Once I said
that if I were to marry you,
it would be an incredible wickedness.
You thought it was a way of saying
i didn't love you.
I do love you,
more than anything in the world,
but I only bring disaster on those who love me.
If you knew how I've already wronged you,
you would turn from me in horror.
You will never see me again.
Try to remember me, dear gladys,
without bitterness.
This is the only good thing i have ever done.
Won't you tell us what it is?
Perhaps we can help you.
We must go to London at once.
Was it true that one could never change?
He longed for the unstained purity of his youth,
before he had prayed
in a monstrous moment of pride and passion
that the painting should bear the burden
of the years and of his corruption.
Sibyl Vane was dead,
and now her brother
would be hidden in a nameless grave.
Allen Campbell had shot himself,
and Basil...
nothing could alter that.
It was of the future that he must think.
He had spared gladys.
Would there be any sign of his one good deed
in the portrait?
It was there- almost imperceptible,
but surely it was there in the eyes,
struggling through the horror and the loathsomeness.
There was hope for him, then.
He would go away, leave england forever,
live obscurely in a distant country,
find peace in a life of humility and self-denial.
He would expel every sign of evil
from the painted face.
He would watch the hideousness fade and change.
But the painting would always be there
to tempt his weakness.
Better to destroy it,
to grow old inevitably as all men grow old.
If he fell into evil ways,
to be punished as all men are punished.
Better if each sin of his life
were to breed sure, swift penalty.
The knife that had killed Basil hallward
would kill his portrait also
and free him at a stroke
from the evil enchantment of the past.
But when the knife pierced the heart of the portrait,
an extraordinary thing happened.
Father, forgive me,
for I have sinned.
Father, forgive me, for I have sinned.
Through my fault, through my most grievous fault.
Heaven forgive me.
Take gladys home, David.