Dorijan walks into a blank, white room. He looks at the portrait, which now looks like a rotting corpse. He does not scream. He does not weep. He simply sits down. The camera pans away. We hear the sound of a knife falling. Then silence.
To review this film properly, one must understand its birth. Lithuania was still celebrating its hard-won independence from the USSR (January 1991). Puipa, a master of the "Lithuanian poetic cinema," uses Wilde’s text as an allegory for the Soviet man. (as he is called) is not a spoiled British aristocrat but a post-totalitarian everyman suddenly flooded with Western luxury, sin, and freedom. The portrait doesn't just age with sin; it ages with the rot of a nation discovering capitalism and nihilism overnight. doriano grejaus portretas filmas