Emmy-winning Succession actress Sarah Snook seduces the Broadway stage, with her show The Picture of Dorian Gray importing directly off its Olivier-winning run in the UK. Armed with minimal knowledge of the source material—my sole brush with Dorian Gray was in Showtime’s underrated Penny Dreadful—I took my cushy seat in the Music Box Theatre simply searching for strong storytelling and a riveting turn from Snook. Only minutes deep, it became clear that this take on Oscar Wilde’s controversial text is unlike anything that has ever come before it. In this very same auditorium just years prior, Dear Evan Hansen‘s impressive use of screen technology helped to emphasize the viral nature of its message. The Picture of Dorian Gray takes the staging to an entirely different realm. Massive immersive screens are essential, blending prerecorded segments with jaw-dropping live interactions to make for a cinematic theatregoing experience impossible to forget. Always accompanied by numerous camera operators, Sarah Snook’s transformative version of Wilde’s Dorian Gray injects an impressive modernity into a well-worn tale of vanity. And preposterously silly filtered selfies.
Set in 19th century London, The Picture of Dorian Gray catalogues the undying beauty of a gorgeous aristocrat who impulsively wishes he could be eternally young. A portrait has been painted to commemorate Dorian’s looks—what if the painting were to age, and not Dorian? The setup calls for examining timeless ideals about aging and good looks. What price will one pay to stay that way forever? The excess of Dorian’s lifestyle comes at a horrible cost that will shake his life and the lives of those around him to their very core.
In this version, the Narrator recounts the tale in highly descriptive prose, painting its own portrait of flawed character study. Only, Snook plays the Narrator at the beginning at the same time she is handed a cigarette, then in turn, a paintbrush. Assigning her the role of narrating the story automatically gives Snook the ability to control every single moment that occurs on that stage. A camera crew follows Snook endlessly, often photographing her from four different angles while letting us view them at the same time. Cinema-style transitions of images are transposed over others, even as Snook continues to act her ass off. The only thing more surprising than her range is Snook’s command of the show at large. There is never a second without her, blurring the lines of reality and plunging headfirst into Dorian Gray‘s uniquely Victorian world.
Fearful we may be in for something pretentious as the opening moments played out, the second Dorian’s character arrives entirely won me over. In a hasty costume change, complete with a buttery coiffed wig and sideburns, Snook turns from Lord Henry and the artist Basil Hallward into garishly enthusiastic Dorian. Camera trickery and astonishing effects courtesy of the shifting screens help tie each of Snook’s roles together. The very first time we see Snook as Dorian, Snook as Henry, Snook as Basil, and Snook as the Narrator onscreen together simultaneously feels magical. The audience was effectively howling with laughter at all the right parts, and enthusiastically applauding at others. Each miraculous bit of trickery manages to impress more than the last.
In total, Snook portrays a staggering twenty-five characters throughout the two-hour run. In one of its more ambitious gestures, the play brilliantly splays out a dinner sequence in which different versions of Snook in costume are seated in their chairs. They proceed to all interact, whilst an onscreen hook lets us watch, captivated, as Snook slips in and out of their mannerisms. It would be so easy to have either an unconvincing portrayal of this dual role, or to become lost in its lavishly complex structure. With Snook and writer/director Kip Williams at the helm, Dorian Gray succumbs to neither of these possibilities. Instead, each new crack of the portrait brings with it an exciting suggestion. Sarah Snook is unpredictable—one second, a horrendously bad actress in a curly wig interacting with a mini-puppet show; the next, a grunting maid struggling to hoist the cursed portrait away to a secluded hiding place.
Essentially, Snook’s one-woman show allows her to get as strange and hilariously oft-kilter as her heart desires. A frantic energy develops along with the meta approach to the interacting personas. Long, fiery monologues spew out uninterrupted; others are comically drawn to underline their larger ideas. The more serious sections are balanced by their often campy delivery—the blending of tones creates a truly special quality. Shows like these are rare, let alone those willing to take the type of creative swings attempted within. Getting on its wavelength, especially given the injection of comedy, may be essential to enjoying the larger whole.
Highly ambitious, the secrets of eternal youth may be locked inside its brushstrokes. Playing this straight would certainly be less unique. Despite the simplicity, though, there is a surprising amount of depth. Electrified by Sarah Snook’s dominating presence and enveloped in a plume of cigarette smoke, The Picture of Dorian Gray boldly announces an outrageous, drag king iteration of a classic.
Look away, lest you succumb to the haunting visage in The Picture of Dorian Gray—now on stage at Broadway’s Music Box Theatre.
