Cloud Atlas [Film] (Review)

Contains spoilers.

“An exploration of how the actions of individual lives impact one another in the past, present and future, as one soul is shaped from a killer into a hero, and an act of kindness ripples across centuries to inspire a revolution.”

Where to begin?  I honestly don’t know how to review this film – I suspect, much like the book was claimed to be “unfilmable”, this unfilmable film is “unreviewable.”  But I’ll take a stab at it anyway.  I first stumbled across the film when I happened to watch the trailer, and instantly fell in love.  I felt inspired and awe-struck by the trailer alone, and I knew that this is a film I had to see.  I hoped it would not let me down.  The original novel was written by David Mitchell, an author whose work I know of shamefully little.  The film is directed by the Wachowski Siblings – whose most famous work, The Matrix, I’ve recently had an ambivalent encounter with – and Tom Tkywer.  At nearly 3 hours long, this film is not for the faint-hearted.

Within the first five minutes we witness the old, scarred Zachry speaking in a strange, futuristic dialect, journalist Luisa Ray travelling to a nuclear power plant to uncover a conspiracy, Timothy Cavendish writing on his typewriter, Robert Frobisher loading a pistol into his mouth, Adam Ewing seeking out Dr. Henry Goose, and the final interview of the clone Sonmi-451.  The film doesn’t get any easier than that.

Cloud Atlas can be described as 6 separate stories woven together, although the more you watch the more it comes to resemble one story with 6 differing facets:

  1. 1849:  On the South Pacific Ocean, after visiting a slave plantation on the Chatham Islands, Adam Ewing (Jim Sturgess) helps a self-freed slave stowaway, Autua (David Gyasi), while his doctor, Henry Goose (Tom Hanks), slowly poisons him to steal his possessions.  Upon arriving home, he joins an abolitionist movement.
  2. 1936: Robert Frobisher (Ben Whishaw), inspired by Ewing’s journal, helps musician Vivyan Ayrs (Jim Broadbent) with his compositions, culminating in the composition of the Cloud Atlas Sextet.  During this time he writes letters to his lover, Rufus Sixsmith (James D’Arcy).
  3. 1973: Journalist Luisa Rey (Halle Berry) meets an older Sixsmith, who now works as nuclear physicist.  After Sixsmith’s death, she works with Isaac Sachs (Tom Hanks) and Joe Napier (Keith David) to uncover the conspiracy to allow the nuclear reactors to fail.  She is driven by the need not to repeat the mistakes of Frobisher, whose letters she reads.
  4. 2012: Publisher Timothy Cavendish (Jim Broadbent), fleeing from gangsters to whom he owes money, is tricked into a militant nursing home by his brother, Denholme (James D’Arcy).  He then escapes.  His work as a publisher continues when he receives a manuscript based on Rey’s life, and also writes about his own story.
  5. 2144: In the dystopian city of Neo-Seoul, South Korea, the clone Sonmi-451 (Doona Bae) is rescued from servitude by Hae-Joo Chang (Jim Sturgess) and enters a resistance movement.  A film based on Cavendish’s adventure helps to cement her beliefs.  However the rebellion fails and Sonmi-451 is executed.
  6. 2321: In a post-apocalyptic world, Zachry (Tom Hanks) lives in a primitive society.  Plagued by cannibals from another tribe, the people look towards their Goddess, Sonmi, for guidance.  When the technologically advanced Meronym (Halle Berry) arrives, Zachry takes her to Sonmi’s temple, but they return to find his tribe has been wiped out.

I truly admire the way in which the action cuts between characters and the six time periods with such ease, finding links to tie certain sections of the stories together.  For example, one moment Autua is balancing across the ship’s yard avoiding gunshots, and then the film cuts to Sonmi and Hae-Joo running across a walkway between buildings over the city, avoiding lasershots.  Both Luisa and Timothy are chased by Hugo Weaving’s characters in a sequence from different stories edited together.  When Sonmi discovers the grim fate of every clone, Zachry simultaneously discovers that his village has been massacred.  When Adam and his wife Tilda decide to join the abolitionist movement, Tilda’s father’s speech, in which he claims the movement is destined to end in failure, is interspersed with shots of Sonmi’s execution.

As I described in the summary, events in one story directly impact another.  As well-crafted as these initial connections are, the further you delve into the story you discover the subtler hints.  The comet birthmark is one, although I believe, in the novel, this is supposed to indicate one character living again and again in different lives, which the film chose to change and do by actor – leaving the birthmark rather redundant.  My favourites are the small connections, such as Vivyan’s house eventually becoming the care home Timothy (both played by Broadbent) is confined within.  While Nurse Noakes threatens to make Timothy eat soap, the clones in Neo-Seoul are fed a substance called soap, which it’s later revealed is protein recycled from former clones.  There is also, arguably, a development of the soul for each character: Hanks’ characters begin as scheming, selfish souls but develop into humble heroes.  Broadbent’s follow a similar pattern.  Meanwhile, Berry’s start off as persecuted characters – first as a Moriori slave and then a Jew in the 1930s – but develops into an independent journalist until finally becoming the most powerful character in the period as Meronym.  I say arguably because I don’t think these were Mitchell’s original intentions, and is merely an interpretation.  But, of course, the nature of Cloud Atlas leaves it open to so many interpretations.

Paradoxically, it is these connections between characters and times which was one of my favourite and least favourite aspects of the film.  I thoroughly enjoyed watching the links come together, but I felt it could have gone further with them.  At the film’s end I was left wondering what the overall point and message had been.  This isn’t necessarily a flaw.  Maybe, being so used to linear plots, I feel as there needs to be an overarching idea where the film could work perfectly well without one.

One part of the film done absolutely perfectly was the acting, make-up and costumes which  successfully disguised the actors in their repetitions across the 6 stories.  Half of the characters I didn’t realise were played by recurring actors until afterwards, such as Jim Sturgess as Hae-Joo Chang and Halle Berry as Jocasta Ayrs.  It is a crime that none of the actors were even nominated for an Oscar.  I was particularly  impressed when actors played a character of a different gender and race to their own – particularly Hae-Joo and Hugo Weaving as Nurse Noakes (which is perhaps one of the funniest things I have ever seen in a film).  While these changes were never 100% convincing, I don’t think they were supposed to be – the audience is supposed to understand that this is the same person in a different life.  I cannot praise this aspect of the film highly enough.

Another thing I loved about the film – something which probably hasn’t been mentioned by critics much – is the dialogue.  Quite simply, it all felt so real.  This is down to both the writing and the acting.  When characters spoke to each other, I believed they were having a spontaneous conversation rather than performing in a well-rehearsed scene.  Compare the dialogue here to the forced conversations in Shetland – for instance – and there’s really no contest.  Best of all, I was stunned to discover that, in the post-apocalyptic world, I was not being dense by misunderstanding the characters but they were actually speaking in a futuristic dialect.  Dialects and languages are complex things which evolve staggeringly quickly when isolated from the rest of the world, but to artificially create one is beyond impressive; it’s utter genius.  It appears to be an extension of Southern US dialects, where certain beats of speech are given further emphasis and twangs.  Artificial idioms and figures-of-speech are thrown in, making the dialect even more realistic.  Read these excerpts:

  • “Yоur аugurіn’ соmе truе, Αbbеѕѕ. Βrоkе brіdgе, јuѕt lіkе yоu ѕаy. Μеrоnym were thеrе, yibberin’ hеr аbout trekіn’ uр Μаunа Ѕоl. Why does this Ρrеѕсіеnt wоmаn соmе сurѕіn’ and twіѕtіn’ up my lіfе?”
  • “Fееlіn’ I оwnin’ yоu a real соwtow, fоr іnvаdіn’ yоur hоuѕе wіth nо ѕаyѕо. Τruе ѕоrryѕоmе… Ѕо, yоu mіndіn’ а ѕtrаngеr querin’ аbоut yоur troddin’?”

It has a poetic effect – almost Shakespearean.  The irony being that if someone spoke like this today they would be lambasted for mutilating the English language with rotten colloquialisms.  I found the dialect a beauty to listen to, though I can appreciate that other viewers would become irritated at the difficulties of understanding the words.

There’s much more I could say about Cloud Atlas, but the review has to end at some point.  Perhaps in another life I will review it differently.  This is, without a doubt, one of the most imaginative, thought-provoking films I have ever seen.  Watching it is an experience.  I have the opportunity to go see it again in a cinema but I don’t think my brain could cope with watching it from start to finish, all in one go, again.  It simply isn’t big enough.  But what I will say is that I feelin’ this move-move is mighty good, and that’s a tru-tru.

Final Rating: 10/10

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The Casual Vacancy Review

Contains spoilers.  Is also excessively long.

Any artist’s work will be judged in light of their previous work, and this has never been more true than with J. K. Rowling’s new book, The Casual Vacancy.  As everyone knows, Rowling is famous for the worldwide hit Harry Potter books which combined have sold over 450 million copies – the best selling book series in history.  The final book, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows was published in 2007, and Rowling has retreated from public attention since, as can be discerned from her quiet Twitter account.  But in September this year The Casual Vacancy became Rowling’s first published non-Potter book, open to scrutiny from the world.  Cue millions of people expecting Harry Potter 2, despite Rowling making clear from the outset that The Casual Vacancy is a far different, more adult book.  I began the book with the expectation that I would enjoy it, but that it’d be nothing special.

The book is set in the modern day, evident from references to austerity and other features of modern politics, as well as including Facebook and online forums featuring heavily in the plot.  The lives of the residents of the town Pagford are followed, with particular focus giving to an election to fill the seat of Barry Fairbrother, who recently died of an aneurysm.  The council is split over a run-down estate called The Fields; half wants it to be reassigned to nearby city Yarvil, the other preferring it to remain part of Pagford.  This is where the characters can be loosely divided between progressives and conservatives, Rowling I would imagine placing herself on the side of the former.  Despite her public support for the Labour Party, Rowling does well to avoid her biases slipping through into the politics of the story.

The Casual Vacancy is, ultimately, a story driven by characters, and so the simplest way to review the book is to review each character individually.  I’ll start with the Mollison family, the most powerful clan in Pagford.  Howard is the ‘First Citizen’ of Pagford – the equivalent of mayor – and involved in every going on in the village.  He prides himself on being able to name every inhabitant, and possesses a smug knowledge of local history.  He’s an insufferable character with a likeable personality, making for an odd mesh of traits.  Despite his despicable attitude to poverty in the Fields (basically: “I worked hard for my wealth so why can’t they?”) he is not a malicious character and I am unsure of my opinion of him; I like him more than I know I should.  If he was someone in my life I expect I would find his hunger for power unsettling.  Perhaps I am never invested enough in the Fields debate to feel strongly enough about his actions?  When he suffers a heart attack I neither feel pity nor retribution, also indicating the limited impact he had upon me.

Howard’s wife Shirley is worse: she is utterly devoted to him and ignores his flaws, rapt with jealousy over Maureen’s involvement in his life, wishing she could work with him at the butcher’s instead.  She enjoys the defamatory posts about the other residents which end up on the council’s forum that she administrates with great pride, only removing them when pressured to.  She is her husband with charm subtracted – to such an extent that she is among my most hated characters.  Her psychotic nature is revealed when she plans to kill Howard after discovering his affair with Maureen.  Her downfall feels more just than Howard’s; her pride and blind loyalty fatal flaws.  I do not believe she would have killed Howard, but the fact her knee-jerk reaction is to do so says enough about her character.  Not entirely convinced this is a realistic reaction; the book does descend into mellodrama towards the end, though this isn’t necessarily a criticism.

The Mollisons’ son Miles is less belligerent in his beliefs than his parents.  He doesn’t seem to have a lot of character, other than what we see through Samantha: his main traits appear to be ‘boring’ and ‘turning into Howard’.  Miles is a great example of how children can unknowingly develop into their parents.  Despite playing a pivotal role in the election, going on to win the seat, he never gets a great deal of development and acts largely as a pawn in Howard’s schemes.  That said, he does himself agree with his parents’ position on the fields and I can envision him one day taking his father’s place as Pagford’s chief authority – perhaps sooner rather than later.  Miles felt realistic to me.

I seem to have had an opposite opinion of Miles’ wife Samantha than most people.  Going by reviews I’ve read, a lot of people disliked Samantha to begin but softened their view towards her as the character developed.  I, on the other hand, felt mildly affinity towards her, understanding how trapped and frustrated she must feel by her family.  As the story went on she began acting more and more unacceptably, becoming ruder in Miles’ presence, developing an unhealthy obsession with a pop start her daughter’s a fan of, and eventually intentionally kissing 16 year old Andrew at a party.  Samantha is the definition of an unfulfilled life, yet tragic as she is, summons little sympathy from within me.  She merely comes across as pathetic.  I may be too young to understand her; with all my dreams and ambitions I can’t appreciate how it would be to be trapped in such a way.  However she does start to move in a positive direction by the novel’s end, deciding to enter into the council and planning to oppose her family’s plans for Pagford, turning her feelings of despair into something constructive.

Howard and Shirley’s other child, Patricia, only appears briefly towards the end of the book, having moved away from Pagford.  It’s no coincidence that she is my favourite member of the family.  She sees their small-minded obsession with village affairs and all their prejudices, such as their inability to accept her homosexuality, for what it is.  She is a character who, unhappy with her life, managed to escape Pagford and do something about it.  Unlike Samantha, for instance.

The Jawanda family, Sikhs from India who emigrated to the town, are the Mollison’s main adversaries – at least, Parminder is.  Parminder is a councillor and local GP, arguing for maintaining the Bellchapel addiction clinic and keeping The Fields part of Pagford.  The subtle racism she receives, on one level as simply an ‘outsider’ to the village, and on another because of her ethnicity, is shocking yet very believable, and I’m glad it’s something Rowling has explored.  Parminder is a character I initially rooted for, believing her to care for the people of The Fields and their needs.  She never loses this allegiance with the worse-off, but her flaws gradually rise to the surface until she is unable to continue the fight and, after losing her temper with Howard during a meeting and disclosing confidential medical information, resigns, thus granting victory to the Mollisons.  This also has the effect of creating a second casual vacancy, ensuring the book both begins and ends with one.  The dismissive way she treats her daughter Sukhvinder, ignoring her problems, does not reflect well on her.  Yet, once again, I believe Parminder to be a realistic character but very flawed – like every resident of Pagford.

Parminder’s husband Vikram is expanded little in the story.  His sardonic attitude to the village is interesting to follow, though he prefers to stay out of its affairs.  He appears as bored with his marriage to Parminder as she is, and although they are friends, there is no love between them.  It is revealed that they had an arranged marriage so this is not surprising.  Vikram is fancied by virtually every women in the village, which resulted in what I found one of the more shocking aspects of the book.  In Samantha’s self-pity and overactive fantasies, she imagines the joy of being ‘forced’ to marry someone like Vikram.  This disregard of the social consequences of arranged marriage is another example of how sheltered Pagford is.  I’m not sure if Rowling intended this trail-of-thought to be so odious; I can’t imagine her taking arranged marriages anyway other than seriously.

Their daughter Sukhvinder is one of the more interesting characters in the story, and one of the few whom I actually like.  She has her flaws – low self esteem, self harming – but seems a good person nonetheless.  We her pain as she experiences bullying at school. The act of cutting herself is described in graphic detail, which I think the queasier reader would struggle to get through, but it’s necessary to explain her suffering.  It feels wrong to call this my ‘favourite’ moment in the book, but it’s certainly among the most effective.  Sukhvinder develops after gaining Gaia as a friend, who looks out for her and helps raise her confidence.  I think Rowling was showing in Sukhvinder the effects emotional neglect from parents can create, in addition to bullying.  She feels very realistic to me, and the only time this is broken is when she hacks into the council forum as The_Ghost_Of_Barry_Fairbrother, which isn’t something I believe Sukhvinder would do.

Moving on to the Wall family: Tessa and Colin wall are an interesting couple.  On the outside they’re the ‘perfect’ parents; Colin’s deputy headteacher and Tessa’s the guidance counsellor at the same school.  However in reality they’re a couple, who live a strained life due to Colin’s OCD which causes him to suffer from severe anxiety.  They are both rare characters who I feel no disgust towards.  Deeply flawed, yes – particularly Colin – but decent people.  I never quite understood what the whole thing about Colin’s paedophilia was about; some analyses have said his secret is that he is one, but that’s not how I took it.  I took it to be part of his uncontrollable anxiety, like that he was responsible for Barry’s death: Colin feared he was a paedophile, but in reality was not.  A very interesting concept.  There are layers and layers to the characters Rowling has created.  To me, they are real people who live on after the book ends.

Colin and Tessa have an adopted son called Stuart, referred to by his peers at ‘Fats’.  Fats is an interesting character in pursuit of ‘authenticity’ – to lead a life of truth, to be true to himself and the world.  This translates as a licence to do what he pleases without consideration of the consequences, of which there are many.  As with many characters I hesitantly liked Fats when he was first introduced, perhaps because I wasn’t expecting an intelligent teenager, but my respect soon dropped as his bullying of Sukhvinder become apparent and his general disregard of people’s feelings.  I couldn’t comment on whether he is a realistic teenager considering nobody knows what goes on in a teenager’s mind, not even ourselves, but I’ve certainly never met anyone like him.  After the catastrophic events of Robbie Weedon’s death which Fats is indirectly responsible for, he does appear to be changing to a more realistic philosophy.  Following several different temporary life ideas is definitely a trait common among teenagers.

The Prices.  Simon Price is perhaps both the most ‘pantomime’ comic character in the book and the most grittily unnerving.  He abuses his family either verbally or physically in several uncomfortable moments throughout the book.  While his reactions and temper are completely over the top, I have no doubt that people exist just like Simon.  Ruth is almost as irritating in that she simply takes it and always defends her husband; more blind loyalty.  Simon sinks lower, if possibly, through his criminal antics to make money fast.  Though there is some retribution when he is sacked once this is revealed, by the novel’s end he is taking the family away to a new job where most likely the abuse will continue.

Andrew, as I see him, is The Casual Vacancy’s interpretation of a ‘typical teenage boy’.  He’s covered in acne, smokes and is into girls, but is an alright person when you look past the teenage angst.  Andrew becomes, surprisingly, one of the most significant characters in the book and has a major impact on Pagford politics, in creating The_Ghost_Of_Barry_Fairbrother and setting off all the anonymous posts.  I have a lot of respect for the character in standing up to his father’s abuse.  Although originally a silent aid to Fats’ bullying, as the novel progresses Andrew begins to distance himself from Fats and the friendship disintegrates.  His crush on Gaia in explores is, er, colourful detail, but always feels convincing.  Ironically Andrew is a far more ‘authentic’ character than Fats, in that he always acts as himself and doesn’t plan out his personality.  Andrew is among the better crafted characters.

The Bawden family, comprised of mother Kay and daughter Gaia, are also newcomers to Pagford, after Kay moved to be closer to her non-committal boyfriend Gavin.  Kay is new to Pagford affairs, and as a social worker reacts with understandable shock towards the state of The Fields which has been blunted for most Pagfordians.  I love when Kay has a passionate argument with the Mollison family, outnumbered but sticking to her values nonetheless.  Another very likeable character.  She gains the reader’s pity as Gavin endlessly leads her on; Gavin in complete contrast gains the reader’s scorn.  He’s weak, cowardly and naive.  He leaves Kay to confess his love to Mary Fairbrother, a week after her husband died.  Gavin, as a solicitor, ought to have more wherewithal than to be so stupid – perhaps unrealistically so.  He receives no reprieve and deserves none.

Gaia is very much a typical teenage girl – a good match for Andrew -and therefore realistic.  I didn’t warm to her as much as Andrew and Sukhvinder, but she’s also a good person.  In this novel most of the likeable characters are either teenagers or ‘outsiders’; those born and bred in Pagford have been too corrupted.  Her support and defence of Sukhvinder is endearing, and the reader can empathise with her desire to escape from Pagford.

The Weedons are the family which the entire novel centres around.  The family is comprised only of mother Terri, her children Krystal and Robbie, and several other extended family members who have washed their hands of Terri.  The children have been in and out of care but, by the beginning of the novel, are back with Terri.  Terri is battling a heroin addiction, and only managed to stay clean for the sake of her children.  Her career seems to involve a mixture of prostitution and storing stolen goods.  It is easy to understand why Krystal and Robbie are so damaged.  Their household, in all its detail, is intended to disgust, and disgust it does.  Terri is an utterly abysmal, irresponsible, weak character, yet despite this does deep down care about her children and wants to give them a better upbringing than she had; an ambition she utterly fails in.  Worse than Terri is her part-time boyfriend Obbo, the most hateful character in the book, who ultimately rapes Krystal.  Terri’s reaction, as ever, is to deny any wrongdoing.  I felt utterly drained during these chapters.  The profanity, the broken lives, the arguments… I have no idea whether this is a realistic portrayal of a family in poverty, but it certainly terrified me with the thought that anyone could live this way.

Despite the bullying, despite the irresponsible, promiscuous behaviour, I liked Krystal.  Beneath the ‘chavvy’ exterior is a vulnerable girl wanting to break out and lead a successful life.  This is evident from her memories of Barry and the rowing team; the pride she felt to be a part of it; the hope it gave her.  This, above all else, makes Barry’s death a huge tragedy.  Krystal spirals and spirals throughout the book, culminating in Robbie’s death and her eventual suicide by overdosing on her mother’s heroin.  Her story is utterly heartbreaking.  Perhaps even more tragic is Pagford’s opinion of her, the opinion which shall go down in history, as a selfish brat – the worst which The Fields could produce.  This is the version the Mollisons will produce, and therefore become the accepted account.  This has to symbolise the demonisation of the working class which occurs in some – not all – sections of right-wing politics.  It’s brilliantly done.

There is little to say about Mary Fairbrother.  She’s an object of pity due to Barry’s death, but there’s little development beyond that.  She has a fixation on Krystal due to the fact Barry spent their anniversary – and the last day of his life – writing an article about her involvement in the rowing.  While this is unfair, it’s understandable.  More interesting is the opinion created of Barry.  Rarely is a bad word spoken of him; in fact, I think Mary is the only character ever to do so.  Even the Mollisons, his political rivals, refrained from doing so too heavily.  It is easy to understand how Barry’s death caused the village to erupt into chaos in such a way; Barry seemed to be the force knitting various elements in the village together, not only politically, but also in that he was willing to listen to all sections of society.  Truly a man of the people.

Phew, that character analyses dragged on longer than I expected.  Just a few more points now.  The variety of different narratives allow Rowling to explore every character throughout the village so that it feels like a living, breathing entity.  It’s a soap opera in novel form, but better written.  I particularly enjoyed how she introduced characters in the first section, describing one family who have some form of interaction with another character, the narrative then switches to this new character, etc.  It flowed seemingly effortlessly.  I often have trouble identifying characters in novels for at least the first few chapters, but, bizarrely, I remembered exactly who every character is in The Casual Vacancy – a testament to Rowling’s skill at creating memorable, distinct characters.

The pace is a feature which has been criticised by much of the readership expecting another Harry Potter, decrying the fact it’s ‘slow’ and ‘boring’.  Yes, the pace is slow, but that’s what makes the story so rich.  There’s time to develop and explore the characters and the intricate web of relationships and alliances which weaves Pagford together.  If the pace had been faster from the beginning this sense of normality and realism would be lost.  And for those readers who seek action and drama, the pace certainly quickens in the final 100 pages or so, which sees death, hospitals, heroism, downfalls, and a conclusion to every story.  Not necessarily a satisfactory conclusion, which is fine – life goes on.  Realistic once again.

I also appreciated the use of technology in the book.  Computers and the internet have taken a while to translate into literature, with many writers feeling that over reliance on them destroys dramatic tension.  Rowling, however, has found innovative uses for computers, and without them the plot would be far poorer.

In conclusion, I think The Casual Vacancy is a fantastic return to the literary world for J. K. Rowling.  I think my enjoyment of the novel may be due to my age, as I can relate to several of the issues covered – even though there is no character I feel is very similar to myself, which is more proof of Rowling’s ability to write relatable characters.  My own opinions of the issues are thus: the Fields should be reassigned to Yarvil and Bellchapel should stay open.  Throughout most of the novel I was in favour of The Fields remaining part of Pagford, but then I had an epiphany: the residents would quite simply be better off not under the jurisdiction of the snobby, middle-class Pagfordians who neither understand poverty nor care to.  Despite this, if I had to choose one of the candidates to vote for I would probably have gone for Colin.  The Casual Vacancy was an extraordinarily and unexpected good book.  I cannot wait to discover what else Rowling is working on.

Final Rating: 9.5/10

Dorian Gray and Immortality (contains spoilers)

Immortality is a concept humanity has dreamed of for as long as it has existed.  Indeed, most religions are founded around fears of death and ideas of an afterlife.  We’re terrified of death – a throwback to the evolutionary extinct of staying alive, which tends to come in useful from time to time.

But where we differ from animals is our fear of growing old.  This is the theme which The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde tackles.  In the novel, Dorian Gray is the subject of a picture by a painter called Basil Hallward who develops a level of worship for the young man’s beauty.  Corrupted by the ideas of Basil’s friend Lord Henry, Dorian makes the wish:

“If it were I who was to be always young, and the picture that was to grow old! For that… I’d give my soul for that.”

His wish is miraculously granted, and Dorian discovers that he has gained eternal youth while the portrait ages in his place.  But the portrait not only ages, it also shows visible signs of Dorian’s sinful life of corruption and, eventually, murder.

The moral of the story seems to be that a narcissistic obsession with youth and leading a hedonistic lifestyle is a sinful way to be.  However, I would argue that Dorian’s downfall is not his desire to stay young or to be immortal, but his selfish approach to life.  His rejection of sibyl’s love as a result of her bad performance on stage causes the first trace of ugliness to mar the portrait’s face as she consequently commits suicide.  Dorian’s beauty is shielded from this trace of sin.  But this isn’t a result of his gift (or curse) of eternal beauty.  His decision to squander his life in the pursuit of pleasure without ever doing a day’s work, lavishing in luxury surrounded by a city of poverty, is not due to any concept of immortality.  Youth does not cause him to murder Basil, rather, his obsession with his own beauty and hatred of the sinned portrait Basil created.

My point is, Dorian is a very flawed character.  Either due to his own personality or the influence of Lord Henry’s corrupt ideas, Dorian becomes a despicable person as the novel progresses.  And it is this, not his eternal youth, which leads to his downfall.  Imagine Dorian had led a virtuous life, perhaps spending his time in philanthropy or in the pursuit of knowledge, using his beauty, youth and possible immortality to the world’s advantage?  The portrait would still have aged and lost its physical beauty, but would have kept another kind; a wise, kindly beauty, the beauty of a man who’d led a worthwhile life.  Maybe even this would be too hideous for Dorian to have coped with.

I won’t deny it: if offered the chance, I would accept immortality.  How could I not?  I will miss so much by having the misfortune of dying: all the books yet to be written, ideas thought of, paths for our species to take, scientific discoveries to behold… My reasons would be different to Dorian’s.  It is never explicitly stated that Dorian gains immortality, but I believe he did.  One day the man in the portrait would die and become a pile of decaying bones and Dorian would live on, young as the day it was painted.

Dorian’s unwitting suicide is not, I believe, caused by the curse of youth and immortality, but by Dorian’s corrupt and sinful lifestyle it allows him to lead.  Perhaps immortality must inevitably lead to a worldview similar to Dorian’s, but The Picture of Dorian Gray gives no indication that this is the case.  His eternal youth formed as a consequence of his narcissism – not the other way round.