Review: THE JUDAS KISS Has Oscar Wilde In The Gutter Looking At The Stars

The elegantly faded and crumbled interior of BAM's Harvey Theatre is a most appropriate venue for David Hare's dry drama of the politics of morality that caused the downfall of Oscar Wilde, THE JUDAS KISS. As written, and particularly as performed by a captivating Rupert Everett, the central character becomes rather elegantly faded and crumbled himself.

History tells us that on February 14th, 1895, the evening Oscar Wilde's extraordinary comedy THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST had its world premiere at London's St. James's Theatre, the Marquess of Queensberry (yes, the guy who came up with rules to keep boxers from killing each other) attempted to publicly embarrass the playwright for having an intimate relationship with his son, Lord Alfred "Bosie" Douglas, by hurling a bouquet of rotten vegetables to his feet at curtain call. Though the plot was discovered and the Marquees was denied entrance to the theatre, his accusations of Wilde being a Sodomite (accurate, but illegal) forced the playwright to sue him for libel. A series of court cases revealed Wilde's unspoken life and he wound up serving two years of hard labor, convicted of the charge of gross indecency with another man. After being released he spent his last years in exile, broke and forgotten, before passing away at the age forty-six.

The Christ-like imagery suggested by the title is reinforced right from the outset, as the play begins with a young hetero couple making love. The woman, about to climax, stands on the bed, braced against the headboard with her arms outstretched as her gentleman, on his knees, presses his face onto her.

Played by Elliot Balchin and Jessie Hills, they are a bellboy and the new maid at London's posh Cadogan Hotel, making use of the empty room before the day's notable guest arrives. Their seasoned supervisor, played with distinguished grace by Alister Cameron, makes sure that special arrangements are promptly handled and that no mention is made of the name of the soon-expected guest, in case reporters are snooping about.

It is April of 1895 and Wilde's former lover and devoted friend Robert Ross (a touching Cal MacAninch) has made arrangements to get him out of the country quickly before he's arrested. Bosie (Charlie Rowe) insists that he should stand his ground in court.

Wilde decides he can't do anything before enjoying a proper lunch. While Everett masterfully delivers the sardonic Wilde wit that Hare sprinkles into the proceedings, there's a tender wistfulness about him in director Neil Armfield's melancholy production. Wilde is shown to be a kind man, considerate to the help, and content to suffer all abuse in the name of love.

The second act takes place two years later, after Wilde has spent his time in jail and is living with Bosie in Naples. The self-absorbed younger man flaunts his handsome, finely sculpted and generously endowed new lover (Tom Colley, who spends a good deal of time lounging about in the nude). Ross arrives with the news that Wilde's wife has decided to cut off her financial support unless he ends his relationship with Bosie and lives in accordance with society's morals, but the writer - again romanticizing himself as a Christ-like idealist - chooses to suffer, rather than deny what he is.

"Love is not the illusion. Life is," is the character's explanation for enduring his unconditional, unrequited love. To paraphrase one of the writer's famous quotes, he's in the gutter, but looking at the stars.

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