The Oscar Wilde play as it might have been privately performed before the author himself by amateur actors at a fin-de-siècle brothel. The overripe production, and most especially the overarch title portrait by Imogen Millais-Scott, makes little sense within the given framework. But were you to take another step outward and notice that the play is in a brothel in a Ken Russell film, the light should begin to dawn. (1987) — Duncan Shepherd
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