Dorian Gray

Come on, sir, give us a penny!

Run!

Sorry.

Lucky heather, sir? Come on, sir.

Looking for someone?

Er... Yes, actually, I...

Mr Gray. Welcome to London, sir.

Go on, lady. Off you go!

Whoa.

And here we are, sir. Welcome home.

I hope you'll find everything to your liking, sir.

Nothing's changed since I was a boy.

Sir.

I'm sorry for your loss, sir.

May I prepare some tea?

Thank you, Victor.

I've no doubt London will hold many new friends and adventures for you.

- I hope so. - So do I.

Oh! This is somebody you simply must meet.

This is one of our finest artists, Basil Hallward.

Agatha, please, a humble student of beauty.

- What do you think? - Oh.

That's quite a likeness.

- Basil. - Hmm?

I've been in London two weeks now.

The only people I've met are Agatha's charitable group.

Well, you've met me.

Of course.

I didn't mean...

These parties are terribly dull, Dorian.

- You won't be missing anything. - I'm sure you're right.

I just...

...thought it might be fun.

Oh...

Dear me, no.

Shabby.

Wife, drink.

There. I'll fetch us some drinks.

Find her a good husband who knows how to behave to a woman.

The only way to behave is to make love to her if she's pretty

and to someone else if she's plain. Excuse me.

Cigarette?

No, thank you.

I find a cigarette to be the perfect pleasure.

It is exquisite

and leaves one unsatisfied.

You're Kelso's grandson.

Yes.

- Did you know him? - I met him once.

It was enough to give a cheer last month

when he rasped his last sour breath.

One assumes you inherited the withered old goat's estate?

Being a little orphan isn't all bad.

"An earnest young man with a beautiful nature," according to Agatha.

I'd pictured some freckled country oaf in ghastly dress.

I see I was only half right.

It could be worse.

Gladys Allonby's been dressed for her 14th birthday ever since her 40th.

If Radley spent less time in church and more at his tailor's,

he might not so resemble a badly-bound hymn book.

Are you sure you won't take a cigarette?

I get them directly from Cairo.

I see you've met our charming host.

Hm?

Pay no attention to anything he tells you.

How rude. Henry Wotton.

Victoria, my wife.

My aunt, alas, you know.

Oh, I'm so glad you've met. You might learn some manners from this boy.

I've found some more guests for you to insult.

I knew I kept her for something.

I do hope our paths cross again, Mr Gray.

- Thank you for the cigarette... - ..cigarette.

An acquired taste.

- No, it's actually quite pleasant. - No, I meant Henry.

There's some people I want you to meet.

Dorian...

Aren't you tired of looking at me yet?

Certainly not.

The more I look...

...the more I see.

It must be nearly finished, man. It isn't the Sistine Chapel.

Do you remember when I told you you could sit in if you were quiet?

- I want to see it. - No, no, don't.

He won't even let me have a peek.

Agatha tells me your father was also an artist.

- Apparently so. - Kelso must have been delighted,

his daughter falling for some penniless painter.

No wonder they eloped.

- I never knew my parents. - Of course.

Typhus is so awful.

Your poor mother carried off in childbirth.

Do you take such interest in everyone you meet?

Not everyone I meet is so interesting.

Henry, why don't you go for a stroll,

while I just work up the background?

You don't need Dorian for that.

Let's both take a break.

- Perhaps we should all get some air. - Yes, and I know just the place.

Look. It's rancid! It's rancid! It's only five days old. I'm not paying.

Come on, Dorian.

Sorry.

You see why Agatha is so keen to help Whitechapel?

Don't you think we should at least try to make a difference?

I've no desire to change anything in England, except the weather.

Welcome to my little Hellfire Club.

- Here you are, gents. - In one.

No, don't, don't.

Barkeeper.

Again.

How say you and the handsome young man stuff me double?

Er, no, thank you. We nonetheless wish you Godspeed

on your evening's quest for romance.

A little wider, my dear.

Oh!

Don't worry. He's a doctor.

There's no shame in pleasure, Mr Gray.

Man just wants to be happy.

But society wants him to be good. And when he's good, Man is rarely happy.

But when he's happy, he's always good.

You do want to be good, don't you, Mr Gray, and happy?

Isn't there a price to pay for that sort of business?

She's quite affordable.

But what I was asking was about the effect on...

Buy a lady a drink?

- On what? - Well, on one's soul.

One's soul?

This is my church.

With this dram, right now, I nail my soul to the Devil's altar.

You'll never meet a more eloquent philosopher of pure folly.

Come on, Dorian. It's time we showed you what we've made.

- Really? - The boy hasn't finished his gin.

Go and fiddle with your background. We'll be along shortly.

Your picture awaits you, Dorian.

Perhaps you should go and speak to her.

I didn't realise she...

Don't be timid. Go.

- I wouldn't know where to... - You see, I envy you.

Me?

Everything's possible for you

because you have the only two things worth having.

Youth...

and beauty.

Come on, let's go.

The moment's lost.

That was probably her husband.

Yes, very sensible.

People die of common sense, Dorian,

one lost moment at a time.

Life is a moment. There is no hereafter.

So make it burn always

with the hardest flame.

Well, Basil...

...it's quite the best thing you've done.

You'll be the talk of the town.

Both of you.

Speak up, boy. You'll hurt his feelings.

Is that really how I look?

It's just so...

...life-like.

Better than life.

He'll always look like that.

You, Mr Gray, I'm afraid will not.

In time, Mother Nature will come a very poor second to Father Basil.

- Some things are precious for not lasting. - Poppycock.

We wither and scar because the gods are cruel and hateful.

Perhaps I should nail my soul to the Devil's altar.

And remain as you are? Fair trade.

How about another gin instead?

All that hocus-pocus, endless conjurations,

books bound in infant skin,

pentacles of fire, drinking the blood of virgins.

Dorian wouldn't really barter his soul.

Would you, Dorian?

Would you?

Yes.

Oh, you really have captured something quite exquisite, Basil.

I've never known a subject so unaffected.

The brush just seemed to dance and I just painted what I saw.

Kelso will turn in his grave.

He didn't care to look at me.

He blamed me for my mother,

for her death.

There are no limits to the ugliness of old men.

Lips! And his eyes!

Almost a match for the original.

- You must get used to being looked at. - Well, it's a fine painting.

- I don't mean the painting. - Mr Gray, if you please.

- That went rather well, didn't it? - A triumph, Mr Gray.

The first of many.

May I say, sir,

your mother would be very proud to see you today.

Shall I draw your bath?

It's rather early.

Do we have any gin?

I believe not, sir.

Then perhaps you might summon me a hansom?

- Go on, poke him! - I am poking him!

Check his pockets!

Oi!