A Powerhouse Sarah Snook Takes On THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY — Review

Back in 2021, a shutdown-era digital adaptation of The Picture of Dorian Gray skilfully transplanted Oscar Wilde’s classic into our present-day maelstrom of internet virality and social media fame. Utilizing “content” streams and straight-to-camera monologues, Henry Filloux-Bennett’s take (presented by the UK’s Barn Theatre, among others) tied-in Instagram, filters and Snapchat to witty effect, finding a clear—if perhaps unsubtle—contemporary resonance to Wilde’s satire on our beauty-obsessed society. 

One senses, in Kip Williams’ new solo iteration of Dorian Gray, now on Broadway following an acclaimed run on London’s West End, a natural hesitation to hit the nail so squarely on the head. Not that Williams shies away from technology—his production makes heavy use of video projections and live camera feeds, a style the Australian director has dubbed “cine-theater.” But all that modern tech collides, here, with fabulous period costumes and Wilde’s florid prose, preserved in Williams’ adaptation. 

For a time, that deliberate clash is delightfully overwhelming to the senses. But as Williams’ elaborate staging careens towards Dorian’s tragic end, you may find yourself more exhausted than moved; always impressed, but never quite transported. 

Certainly this Dorian Gray is an astonishing technical achievement. A powerhouse Sarah Snook, fresh off HBO’s mega-hit Succession, plays all the parts in the 2-hour, intermission-less spin on Wilde’s novel, a horror-infused fantasy of eternal beauty’s curse. Snook achieves that feat by performing opposite many pre-recorded versions of herself, projected on a multitude of screens that glide above and around the stage. Snook herself is also trailed by a hard-working camera crew, her own transformative work sharing the same screens with her pre-filmed selves. 

It’s all expertly choreographed, and the interactions between live-Snook and her video selves are remarkably seamless. (The video work is by David Bergman.) But Williams’ cine-style quickly grows distancing and repetitive. Too often, Snook herself is out of view, available only by video; a few times she even leaves the stage entirely, leaving us alone with a recording. These choices suck the “liveness” out of the event. That distance is further heightened by the soap opera crispness of the video itself—the quality is distractingly crisp, to the point where I wanted to grab a remote and turn off motion smoothing.

One solution to the “liveness” problem is showing your audience the work, an approach favored by digital theater artist Joshua William Gelb for a recent in-person staging of The 7th Voyage of Egon Tichy. Williams hits on that magic only in certain scenes, including a years-spanning  sequence of Bacchanalia that brings the video operators into the party (a fun idea that, sadly, the production only deploys once). 

Wilde’s source text is perhaps distancing by its nature. Do we need to feel empathy for Dorian? That arguably requires viewing him as a tragic cipher, robbed of personhood by a society uninterested in his inner self. That was the perspective taken up by Filloux-Bennett’s 2021 take, which cast Gray as a victim of social media’s power to destroy. 

Again, one can see why Williams shied away from such an on-the-nose reading. But the production’s overall hesitance leaves its perspective on our modern toys in an uncertain place, more confused than nuanced. When Snook snaps a selfie and starts playing with filters, the final result (projected above her) just looks wacky, reminiscent of Jim Carrey’s huge-chinned look in The Mask. Snook toggles back and forth between this clownish caricature and her own face, as though some point was being made—I confess that it eluded me. 

It’s hard not to hold Dorian Gray up against Andrew Scott’s Vanya, another West End import now running downtown at the Lucille Lortel. With simple staging and no fancy effects, that solo staging draws out the clear and beating heart of Chekhov’s text through a single, lonely body on stage. Of course, the demands are different, as Wilde’s novel demands some camp fabulousness—and in this regard, Williams’ team does indeed provide. Marg Horwell’s mini-sets (quickly wheeled in and out) are brightly colored delights, while her innumerable costumes are all delightfully ostentatious creations. 

Yet Snook, though tremendously bawdy and having a great time, does not find a legible Dorian to center Williams’ breathless staging. There is a brief moment, near the play’s conclusion, when live-Snook finally gets the stage to herself. As she speaks to us directly and without adornments and Dorian confesses his fear and deep self-loathing, a bit of humanity does start to seep in. 

Yet all too quickly, the screens slide back onto stage, taking over again for a bravura finale. The show’s conclusion is an astonishing technical display by Snook, the camera crew and the magicians backstage. But as we’re busy being awed, it’s easy to forget what story is even being told. 

‍The Picture of Dorian Gray is now in performance at the Music Box Theatre on West 45th Street in New York City. For tickets and more information, visit here.