Which Dorian Gray Movies Are Considered The Best Adaptations?

When I watch adaptations of 'The Picture of Dorian Gray', the one from 1945 always feels like a slow, delicious meal while the 2009 'Dorian Gray' is fast food with expensive packaging. The 1945 version leans into moody black-and-white photography, theatrical dialogue, and a very measured moral horror — it keeps closer to Oscar Wilde’s aphoristic tone and lets the portrait do the heavy lifting. By contrast, modern takes push visual effects, sexier costuming, and sometimes update the setting or accelerate Dorian’s corruption for a contemporary audience. Silent-era or early talkie adaptations remove a lot of Wilde’s verbal sparkle but compensate with expressionistic sets and exaggerated acting, which can be oddly powerful if you like mood over verbosity. So if you want lush, paradox-laden lines and restraint, go classic; if you crave glossy decadence and a stronger focus on sensuality and spectacle, try the newer films. I usually rewatch the older one to savor language and the newer one when I want eye candy and faster pacing.

There’s a big difference between being faithful to plot beats and being faithful to the soul of a book, and modern takes on 'The Picture of Dorian Gray' usually pick one and drop the other. In straightforward terms, most contemporary films keep the central conceit — a portrait that ages while Dorian stays young, the corrupting influence of a charismatic friend, and the moral unraveling — but they strip away Oscar Wilde’s razor-sharp language, his epigrams, and a lot of the novel’s satirical bite. The 2009 film 'Dorian Gray' starring Ben Barnes is a good example: it hits the major events (Sibyl Vane, Basil’s murder, the portrait’s decay) but dramatizes and sometimes sensationalizes scenes to suit a modern movie audience. I find that modern adaptations lean into atmosphere and visual horror more than Wilde’s philosophical ambiguity. Filmmakers enhance the supernatural and psychological aspects with makeup, CGI, and moody production design, so Dorian’s deterioration becomes a visceral, often gory spectacle rather than a long, slowly implied moral corrosion. Sexuality and decadence are usually foregrounded too — more explicit than Wilde wrote — because contemporary viewers expect it and the visual medium invites it. If you love the novel for its language and social critique, none of the recent films will fully replace it. But if you want a cinematic mood piece that captures the story’s dark glamour and tragic arc, modern movies can be thrilling. I still recommend reading the book alongside watching an adaptation: you get Wilde’s wit and the film’s visual imagination, and the two together feel like a fuller experience.

Late-night noir vibes got me hunting for the 1945 'The Picture of Dorian Gray' more times than I care to admit. If you want a reliable place to stream classic, restored versions, the usual suspects are your best bet: subscription services like The Criterion Channel and TCM’s streaming offerings often rotate older studio classics, so they’re worth checking first. For on-demand options, Amazon Prime Video, Apple TV (iTunes), Google Play Movies, and YouTube Movies frequently let you rent or buy restored transfers of the 1945 film or later adaptations. If you prefer free or library-backed access, try Kanopy and Hoopla (you’ll need a library card or university login). For deeper dives into very old, silent, or obscure versions, the Internet Archive and BFI Player sometimes host public-domain or curated prints. Availability changes by region, so I usually open JustWatch or Reelgood to scan what’s streaming where; that saves me from hunting through half a dozen services. Also, consider buying a physical Blu-ray if you care about picture quality—some companies do great restorations that aren’t always on streaming platforms, and I love having that backup for rainy movie nights.

I still get a little excited every time the subject of 'Dorian Gray' scores comes up — the two film versions that people keep circling back to are the 1945 Hollywood classic 'The Picture of Dorian Gray' and the more recent 2009 take simply titled 'Dorian Gray'. The 1945 movie features a lush, old‑Hollywood orchestral score by Herbert Stothart; it’s that sweeping, slightly gothic MGM sound that underlines the film’s moral melodrama. You can hear the studio’s fingerprints all over it: grand strings, dramatic brass swells, and that period flair that feels both romantic and ominous. Jump forward to 2009 and the composer is Ilan Eshkeri. His music is moodier and more intimate, weaving modern textures with classical touches to fit the film’s darker, psychological bent. It’s the kind of score that sits well on playlists if you like brooding, cinematic pieces. Beyond those two, earlier silent adaptations didn’t have a single credited composer — they relied on theatre pianists or compiled classical pieces — and TV or stage versions have used a variety of in‑house composers. If you want to explore, I’d start with Stothart for that vintage Hollywood vibe and Eshkeri for a slick contemporary mood.

I’m the kind of movie nerd who loves digging through DVD menus at 2 a.m., so when people ask which 'Dorian Gray' movies have alternate endings on DVD, I immediately think of the modern take: the 2009 film 'Dorian Gray' (the one with Ben Barnes). That release often includes an alternate ending as part of its extras on some regional DVDs and Blu-rays — it was one of those extras that felt like a small director’s wink, and I’ve seen it on both UK and US special editions. The alternate ending isn’t wildly different in tone, but it changes the final beat enough that I replayed the closing scene to compare mood and pacing. Most older adaptations, especially the classic 1945 'The Picture of Dorian Gray', don’t typically come with an alternate ending on standard DVD releases. You’ll find restored prints, commentary tracks, and sometimes deleted shots, but an outright alternate ending is rare for those studio-era films. If you’re hunting for variations, check collector’s editions, festival releases, or region-specific discs — sites like Blu-ray.com or retailer product descriptions usually mention “alternate ending” in the special features list. Also look for language like “alternate cut” or “director’s ending” when scanning the extras; that’s how I caught the 2009 version’s extra ending the first time.

I love how film adaptations treat 'The Picture of Dorian Gray' like a jewellery box: they open it and sometimes keep only the sparkliest stones. When I watch movie versions, the first thing that jumps out is how they externalize what Wilde keeps inside Dorian’s head. The novel luxuriates in aphorisms and interior decay; films have to show that corrosion on-screen, so they make the portrait literally horrific or use visual motifs — mirrors, shadows, and makeup — to carry the psychological weight. Directors also play with plot structure to fit runtime and audience expectation. That means condensed scenes, omitted subplots, and altered relationships. Sibyl Vane's theatre arc often gets simplified or made more romantic; Lord Henry’s sermons are trimmed into sharper, more cinematic lines; and Basil sometimes serves more as a moral anchor or is given a different fate to heighten drama. Censorship historically nudged filmmakers to downplay the novel’s homoerotic undertones or reshape the ending so it reads as clearer punishment or caution. Watching them back-to-back, I feel like I’m reading variations on a song — same melody, different arrangements. The result can be frustrating if you want Wilde’s full wit and nuance, but it’s thrilling when a director finds a visual metaphor that resonates. If you’re curious, try pairing the book with a couple of films: you’ll spot what gets lost, what’s invented, and why those choices matter to different audiences.

I get geeked thinking about different takes on 'The Picture of Dorian Gray', and when people ask about director's cuts vs restorations I start by separating two things: a restored print and a true director's cut. For the big, widely seen old version — the 1945 'The Picture of Dorian Gray' with Hurd Hatfield and George Sanders — there have been restoration projects that clean up the original theatrical print for Blu-ray and archival screenings. Those are restorations, not newly assembled director's cuts; they aim to preserve the studio release rather than restore a director's alternate vision. On the modern side, the 2009 film 'Dorian Gray' directed by Oliver Parker is the one most commonly linked to a 'director's cut' or extended/unrated editions on home video. Various DVD/Blu-ray packages have included extra or extended scenes compared to the theatrical release, so if you're hunting for an alternate cut that's the best bet. Beyond those two, most of the silent-era or obscure international versions (early 20th century or 1970s Euro adaptations) sometimes surface as restored prints from film archives, but again those projects generally restore what's available rather than create an official director's cut. If you want to verify a specific release, check the disc's technical notes: look for 'restored', 'director's cut', 'extended', or 'unrated' in the product details — and keep an eye on archive releases from national film institutes, they often spell out whether a cut is a reconstruction or simply a cleaned-up original.

There’s something almost theatrical about watching film versions of 'The Picture of Dorian Gray' after you’ve read the book; the novel’s moral backbone is whispery and witty, whereas movies tend to shout or whisper in a different key. When I read Oscar Wilde I linger on the aphorisms and the moral ironies—Lord Henry’s poison-laced charm, Basil’s conscience, and the portrait as a slow-burning mirror of guilt. Most films strip some of Wilde’s verbal sparkle because cinema needs visuals and time limits, so adaptation choices matter: some emphasize the supernatural horror, others the decadence, and that reshuffles the moral emphasis. In my view the best adaptations preserve the novel’s central moral tension but rarely its full complexity. The 1945 version keeps the plot’s skeleton and the idea that aestheticism can warp the soul, but it waters down subtext and Wilde’s social critique. The 2009 take throws the decadence into high-gloss, capturing sensuality but simplifying moral ambiguity into clearer sin-and-punishment beats. So yes, movies can preserve the moral themes, but usually in a narrowed or reframed way; they trade Wilde’s layered moral conversation for cinematic clarity, which I find bittersweet rather than faithful.