El hombre del clavel verde

One never quite believes the character given a rather masculine portrayal by Peter Finch is involved in a love affair with the young Lord Alfred Douglas, but the tentative treatment of the film's subject matter is understandable since homosexuality was still illegal in Britain at the time of its release. More importantly, however, is how effectively the film relates the story of a man who is ruined by a society which can be so hateful. Although Wilde is portrayed at first as an arrogant and indulgent celebrity, as his love for his family and his torn loyalties are revealed it becomes hard for one to feel no sadness as he is made to pay with public disgrace and a jail sentence. John Fraser is perfectly cast as the spoilt and manipulative Douglas.

Finch won the bafta for best actor, and the film was nominated for several more. Peter finch as oscar wilde, who was a brilliant playwright in the 1890s. Wilde happened to be very close to the lord queensberry's son, which just wasn't done at the time. Making things worse, his son alfred (john fraser) refused to stop spending time with wilde. When queensberry called wilde a sodomite, wilde brought queensberry (lionel jeffries) up on charges of libel; unfortunately, there were many witnesses who may have been able to back up queensberry's statement; after instigating the legal activity, wilde himself was tried. The awesome james mason is carson, defending queensberry. Pretty serious account; very few of wilde's clever sayings are included here. Directed by ken hughes, who had also done chitty chitty bang bang, casino royale. Very different stories, indeed.

Ken Hughes film 'The Trials of Oscar Wilde' may at first appear to be one of those cheesy Technicolor costume dramas when in fact it is a gripping and finely acted account of the appalling treatment Oscar Wilde received at the hands of the English justice system at the end of the 19th century.

Peter Finch is superb as the eponymous hero and is totally committed to the role and turns in one of his best performances on screen. The supporting cast is also quite good if more generalized in their characterizations, more a fault of the screenplay than the performers. There is one especially fine supporting performance from Lionel Jeffries as the maniacal Lord Queensbury. Jeffries plays Queensbury as a crazed brute, a type of man we can no longer countenance in these days, though I suspect they are still out there waiting for their chance to pounce on those who they fear and do not understand.

Sonia Dresdel is Lady Wilde, Oscar's dotty mother at the end of her life. It's a small part but is quietly powerful. Other people in Wilde's life, Constance, his wife, and Ada Leverson, his stalwart friend and life-long supporter, are tantalizingly glimpsed but little is revealed of their inner workings. But this isn't a film about them but about the actual trials and much of the film is spent in courtrooms. This might sound boring but it isn't.

James Mason appears in the first trial as the defending witness, for Lord Queensbury, and a more vicious, narrow-minded lawyer could hardly be found, even these days.

The technical credits are competent if nothing special; the music, melodramatic in a soap-opera-ish way, the sets plush and too clean. But somehow the power and tragedy of Wilde's story comes through all the gilding of the script, peppered with some of Wilde's wiser quotes, well-placed, naturally, in the text. There is nothing preachy or moralistic which is a relief, compared to the highly politicized scripts being written since this film was made.

It is interesting to note Nicholas Roeg as the camera operator. He wasn't the cinematographer but I detected a few Roeg-ish touches in a couple of the more meditative scenes.

This is not a film to be sluffed off as old-fashioned simply because there are no sex scenes or vulgar language or violence. The psychic violence suffered by Oscar Wilde was quite sufficient enough and this is a memorable film, worth having in the collection.

For a movie made in 1960, The Trials of Oscar Wilde was probably ahead of its time, given the general taboo against open discussion of homosexuality in that era. Just guessing, but it also may have gained the inordinate attention of the censors (such as the old Catholic Legion of Decency). I first became aware of it only the other day (Sept. 2005), when it was shown on Turner Classic Movies here in the USA. I can't believe this was the first time that a relatively tame, 45-year-old movie has been shown on American TV, but I wonder. The movie tiptoes diplomatically around the "elephant in the room," but its central theme and the intent of the producers are clear enough for adult moviegoers. (I can't remember the word "homosexual" being uttered in the dialogue, but there were unmistakable surrogates, such as "sodomite.") As a heterosexual, far be it from me to ask this question, but notwithstanding Peter Finch's fine performance in the lead role, isn't his movie "Wilde" a more masculine portrayal than the historical Wilde? Perhaps this was also a necessary concession to the time in which it was made. In any case, I also offer this spelling nitpick: the Encyclopaedia Britannica (1982) refers to Wilde's nemesis as the "Marquess of Queensberry," not "Queensbury." Also, the rules of boxing are the "Marquess of Queensberry rules."

It is sometimes said of London buses that you can wait ages for one and then two come along at once. So it is with films about Oscar Wilde. The world waited sixty years for a film about him, and then two came along in the same year, "The Trials of Oscar Wilde" starring Peter Finch and "Oscar Wilde" starring Robert Morley. There was, of course, a third version in the late nineties, "Wilde" starring Stephen Fry.

I have never seen the Morley film, but "The Trials" has a lot in common with "Wilde". Both tell the same story of Wilde's friendship with the handsome but spoilt young aristocrat Lord Alfred Douglas ("Bosie"), and of how Wilde was pressured into bringing an ill-advised libel suit against Bosie's father, the Marquess of Queensberry, who had accused him of sodomy. As a result of the failure of that lawsuit, Wilde was arrested, charged with gross indecency and sentenced to two years imprisonment. Although the two films acknowledge different source material, "Wilde" is clearly indebted to "The Trials"; the two films have a number of scenes in common. In places the dialogue is almost word-for-word the same.

There are, however, a number of differences of emphasis. "The Trials", as its name might suggest, places a greater emphasis on the legal aspects of Wilde's case, with a greater number of courtroom scenes. (The word "trials" clearly has two meanings here; it is used both in its legal sense and in the sense of "sufferings"). It omits, however, details of Wilde's life in Paris after his release, and places less emphasis on his relationship with his wife Constance and with his children.

There are some notable acting performances in "The Trials", especially from James Mason as Queensberry's lawyer Edward Carson and Lionel Jeffries as the splenetic Marquess himself, a man eaten up with rage and hatred; I preferred Jeffries to Tom Wilkinson who played this role in "Wilde". John Fraser, on the other hand, was not as good as Jude Law as Bosie. Peter Finch was a gifted actor, but I certainly preferred Fry's interpretation of the title role. Whereas Fry made Wilde witty, but also kindly, sensitive and generous, Finch's Wilde came across as too much the dandy, a man who, although capable of impulsive generosity, often used his wit as a mask to hide his true feelings. Only towards the end of the film, when he realises that he is in danger of imprisonment, does he become more emotional.

The greatest difference between the two films is that "The Trials" does not actually admit that Wilde was a homosexual. The impression is given that he may well have been the victim of unfounded gossip, of a deliberate conspiracy led by Queensberry to blacken his name and of perjured evidence given by the prosecution witnesses in court. In reality, there can be no doubt that Wilde was gay, and the Stephen Fry version of his life is quite explicit on this point. Queensberry's accusations were largely true, and in denying them Wilde perjured himself. It has become a received idea to say that he was the victim of the ignorant prejudices of the Victorian era and to congratulate ourselves (rather smugly) that we are today altogether more liberal and enlightened. This attitude, however, ignores the fact that for all his talents and his good qualities Wilde had a strongly self-destructive side to his nature. As some of his lovers were below the age of consent, if he were living in the first decade of the twenty-first century rather than the last decade of the nineteenth, he might actually receive, given contemporary anxieties about paedophilia, a longer prison term than two years. Even if he avoided a jail sentence for sex with minors, he would certainly receive one for perjury.

It is precisely because "Wilde" is more honest about its subject that it is the better film. Peter Finch's Wilde is the innocent victim of other men's villainy; Stephen Fry's Wilde is a tragic hero, a great man undone by a flaw in his character. Although he is more seriously flawed than Finch's character, however, he is also more human and lovable, and his story seems more tragic.

"The Trials", however, probably went as far as any film could in dealing with the subject of homosexuality. For many years it had been taboo in the cinema; a film on this subject would have been unthinkable in the Britain of, say, 1930, or even 1950. By the early sixties the moral climate had become slightly more liberal; the influential film "Victim", which some credit with helping to bring about the legalisation of homosexual acts between consenting adults, was to come out in 1961, a year after "The Trials". In 1960, however, homosexuality was still a criminal offence, and there was a limit to how far it could be freely discussed in the cinema. Seen in this light, "The Trials", although in some respects disappointing, can be seen as a brave attempt to tackle a sensitive topic. 7/10