A Young Face Hiding a Fallen Man I remember this iteration of the classic incredibly well. There’s something special about it. It feels more like a stage play brought to life with sets than a conventional film. "The Picture of Dorian Gray" (1968) is a great example of how Soviet television could handle classic literature with care and respect. Wilde’s story is well known: the young Dorian Gray, after receiving his portrait, obsessively wishes to keep his youth at any cost—and gets exactly what he wants. Only the painting ages, while he gradually decays from within, remaining outwardly unchanged. The greatest value of this version is its calm yet precise portrayal of morality and human weakness. The dialogue is intentionally somewhat grotesque, but it fits the work perfectly. It sharpens the contrast between the protagonist’s outward well-being and the quiet collapse happening inside him. The staging emphasizes that self-destruction doesn’t begin with tragedy but with small concessions to one’s own vices. A separate highlight is the visual side. For a televised stage production, everything looks surprisingly polished: costumes, props, lighting — it all works together to build an atmosphere and make the story feel believable. The result is an adaptation that respects both Wilde’s text and its audience. The acting is outstanding. Valery Babyatinsky, who played Dorian Gray, captures the complexity and inner conflict of the character beautifully. His performance is convincing, layered, and memorable. But for me, an even stronger impression was made by Yuri Yakovlev. He brought to life a multifaceted, not particularly pleasant Lord Henry. Known to most viewers from classics like Ivan Vasilievich: Back to the Future and The Irony of Fate, Yakovlev appears here in a completely different light—and he excels. Watching him was a real pleasure. He conveys the charm and toxicity of a man who becomes one of the key forces leading Dorian toward ruin. The production itself is a delight. The atmosphere is captured with precision: thoughtful dialogue, moral dilemmas, the tension of inner choices — all of it presented with care. There’s no doubt the creators approached this adaptation of Wilde’s most famous novel responsibly and thoughtfully. It’s important to note that this is a televised stage play, with all the traits of the format. Yet this doesn’t detract from the experience — if anything, it enhances it. By stripping away the usual cinematic techniques, the adaptation puts the spotlight entirely on the performances, allowing the actors’ talent to shine. The finale leaves you thinking about the roles a person can take on in life. I’ve seen other adaptations of this story, but this one lingered with me in a special way. It invites reflection. A person can begin as a pleasant, promising young man capable of love and meaningful actions. Yet under the influence of others — and his own internal demons — he may turn into something extraordinary and dangerous, a creature devoid of compassion or appreciation for beauty, someone quietly—and profoundly—harmful to society. This adaptation helps explore how that transformation happens, and thanks to its strong staging and excellent acting, it offers a genuinely powerful experience. 8 out of 10