Speaker A
Over the shoulder! A bit more! Eye contact! That’s it! You are perfect today! Like a young god! Look stern! Look serious!
Dorian Gray explores the haunting power of images, identity, and obsession in a modern operatic narrative by Elżbieta Sikora.
Key Takeaways
- Images and social media can take on a life of their own, influencing identity and fate.
- The pursuit of beauty and fame can lead to emotional destruction and loss of self.
- Obsession and exploitation are central themes, showing the dark side of human relationships.
- The opera modernizes the classic Dorian Gray story by incorporating contemporary digital culture.
- Tragic consequences arise from the interplay of innocence, power, and manipulation.
Summary
- The video is a performance of 'Dorian Gray' by Elżbieta Sikora at Poznań Opera, presented by OperaVision.
- The narrative centers on the character Dorian and the photographer Basil, exploring themes of beauty, identity, and the destructive power of images.
- Dorian struggles with the immortalized images that keep him forever young while he ages and suffers emotionally.
- The story delves into the dark side of fame, social media obsession, and the loss of control over one’s image.
- There is a tension between reality and artificiality, with characters questioning the authenticity of their identities and relationships.
- The transcript reveals a tragic subplot involving a character named Sibyl, who becomes obsessed and ultimately meets a fatal end.
- Themes of love, exploitation, innocence, and corruption are interwoven throughout the dialogue.
- The opera incorporates modern elements such as social media, friend requests, and online harassment to frame its narrative.
- The characters grapple with internal conflict, betrayal, and the consequences of their actions in a digital age.
- The performance blends poetic language with intense emotional exchanges, highlighting the psychological depth of the story.
Full Transcript — Download SRT & Markdown
Speaker A
You're fed up with this session, but use that anger. That’s wonderful, Dorian! I am putting far too much of myself into this.
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All of myself into this! Eating up myself for you! A god-like smile! It reaches into the depths of the image.
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It is irresistible! It's a shower of gold pouring into my lap… OK, that’s enough for today!
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All of myself, too much of myself, too much of anyone into one lens. It reaches back to destroy me!
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A shower of gold! Get a grip on yourself, Basil. Those damn images will be forever young, whereas I grow old and ugly.
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How I wish that was different… So cute, so clear, like a rising sun, a shooting star, a gleam of a pearl in a deep pool, the breath of a breeze that caresses the skin, tugs tenderly at the hair on my neck.
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Divine! Be mine! Prince Charming! So beautiful! So prime! So optimized! So sleek! So groove!
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So swimming! So charming! So winning! Like… Strange club you took me to last night.
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It’s where the photographers go. They seemed a pretty weird bunch. I dread to think what they like to photograph.
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It’s a dirty world out there. Some crazed character gave me this in the toilets.
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Said I looked jumpy. It would calm me down. Don’t go anywhere near that stuff!
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Dangerous shit! What’s going on with my phone? What is it? My phone is flooded with some kind of bullshit!
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It’s going berserk! Overwhelmed! Thousands of friend requests! And who is this woman? A child almost, who keeps appearing!
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Liking me? Loving me? It’s tidal! It’s everywhere! It’s multiplying! It’s my fault… I posted the images… At least I think it was me, they were too special.
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- I’m sorry. - You are sorry? You are sorry? But you didn’t ask me… I didn’t even ask myself.
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As if the images did it of their own accord. It was not me. It was their power!
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The whole thing, the session, you, Dorian! The images have a power of their own… They found their own way… And you just followed!? Likely story!
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You just wanted to boost your career… And instead, I boosted yours. Bric-à-brac is not a career… Wait till it turns… Dorian, I swear. Believe me.
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The images carried themselves. I was powerless. They dictated, the images dictate what happens…. And whose name did you use?
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- Whose name? - For the account… - Yours, dear boy! - Mine? That is to say, your nickname: Prince Charming… Crossing oceans, continents, mountains and seas, following the tide, riding the breeze.
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Seeking my lover, his smile, his smell, seeking wherever, in heaven or hell. - James here, your brother! - Oh, James!
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In the middle of the Atlantic. You are on the net all the time? What’s going on?
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Are you obsessed with someone? Are you in love? Of course I’m monitoring you. You’re my little sister, aren’t you?
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Be careful, there are dangerous people out there and you are so young, and no one to protect you.
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Only me, far away at sea. Got to go. Your loving brother James. Thank you, James.
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But, it’s just that I need him so much! Meeting his gaze, feeling his touch.
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Bravoura! Virtuoso! So desired. So famous! Fake! The images are fake! Prostitute trash! Copied from Vogue 2012!
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Rip off from Michelangelo! Pedophile grooming! An ad for a porn star! Gay dirt! Who do you think you’re kidding, porn queen?
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Beauty and innocence. Such a dangerous combination. So powerful. So naïve. So lethal… Charm is such a poison, beauty such a trap, innocence such a delusion, beauty such a trap, naivety the worst of good intentions. Basil, you must close this account.
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Delete! Erase it! Wipe it out of existence! I can’t, I have tried…. Take it down! Rub it out! Annihilate it!
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I can’t! It comes back, it repeats! I tell you it has a mind of its own.
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It cannot be erased or deleted. - Do you like his face? - I don’t.
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Too kitschy. Too flat. Too greasy. Trying too hard to please! So sugary. So smiley. So sycophantic.
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Creeping across the screen like a sticky sweet! So shallow. So cheap. Such a doll!
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I will find him! I will come to him! I am so in love! Meeting his gaze, feeling his touch.
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I will find him! I will come to him! You have betrayed me, exploited me, abused me.
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My soul is in those photographs, or those photographs are in my soul. Something guided me! Something took me over!
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They acquired their own identity, spirit, existence! And now a wave of poison and hate engulfs me.
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I’m getting so near, so close, so hot, I hear his breath, I taste his smile, I touch his lips, my trembling fingers reach out for his!
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My life was only waiting for this! - You like his face? - I don’t.
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Too kitschy. Too flat. Too greasy. Trying too hard to please! So sugary. So smiley. So sycophantic.
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Creeping across the screen like a sticky sweet! So shallow. So cheap. Like a doll!
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I cannot deal with such hatred, such meanness, such humiliation. Be strong, dear boy, it will fade. So was I just a moth drawn to a flame, for a life of a few minutes… I need you so much… Who the hell are you?
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- Basil? - Loving you. Needing you. Wanting you! - I’m Sibyl…. - It’s absurd. I don’t know you.
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You don’t know me. You just plastered your picture all over my site. You just emerged out of some computer simulation, some trick of software.
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Are you real? Some robot? No, I am real, and what I feel is real, the bond between us is real, unique!
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There is no bond between us… My being is bound to yours! My whole existence was brought about just for this.
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Stay away from me. You are just the perverted creation of that coward photographer… Where is he? Where has he hidden himself? Basil?
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Don’t be so angry. - It’s simple, it’s beautiful, - I am angry - it’s love…. - Yes, it’s simple.
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You are just a vulgar little bitch hoping to attach yourself - to someone famous and beautiful… - No!
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You want to hitch your mediocre little self to something fast, something ascendant… you jumped on the bandwagon… No! Don’t do this… Be your name, Prince Charming!
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- Not this… - Well, if you want to rise above your miserable, cheap little life, if you want to fly, stop intruding into my life and try this!
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That should do the trick! Such a journey. So much hope. Such a fall. I fly? I only want to sink… to drown… to vanish like a body in a bath of acid.
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Your image is there a twist? A snarl? A curl of the lip? A sardonic glance? A look of cruelty?
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A hint of malice, of venom, of sadism? My image! I looked. I shouldn’t have looked.
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What does it mean? It changed, it warped into something mean, sly, cold! Basil! What is going on? I’m frightened… To vanish, like a body in a bath of acid.
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You had best give that stuff to me. No. It’s mine. It won’t do you any good.
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Best give it to me… No. It’s mine! He gave it to me. It’s precious.
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Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Suit yourself! Maybe I’ll fly to him? Round the rim of the universe to him.
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Maybe I’ll cry, for myself, on the shelf, in the bin. Maybe flying will help?
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The worst is, I was such a fool. I was such a fool. So stupid. And now so empty.
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Leave no traces…. Maybe I’ll fly to him? I called you a taxi. It’s here now.
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I’m sure you’ll be all right. Drink plenty of water. I’m going… I’m gone… What happened to Sibyl?
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Gone! Gone? Took her life, maybe? - Some bastard rejected her. - Sibyl? She was a sweetie. Such a lovely girl.
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Who was the guy? No one seems to know. She talked about some Prince? Prince Charming?
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Prince Charming indeed! There are pictures online of her with that name. Prince Charming. She was obsessing about someone, but never let on who.
Speaker A
Where did it happen? In London, apparently. So she travelled to this cretin? I hope he pays for this.
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- But who is he? - No one knows. Where did they find her? In an Airbnb.
Speaker A
How did it happen? Some drug. Fake drug. Lethal. But where would she get that?
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She never did drugs. Trail gone cold. Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord. Oh no, I say.
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It’s mine first, Prince Charming. I’m not waiting for you, and your magisterial, God-like tempo.
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A dish best eaten cold? I want it hot, burning straight from the oven, visceral, irresistible if possible!
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What else does he deserve, and who is he? Prince Charming my arse! Vengeance is mine!
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Sybil, sister! So young, so unprotected! Vengeance is mine! Dance for me, Salome! Like feasting with panthers… Police here. We apologise for the interruption.
Speaker A
We would like a few words with Mr. Basil Hallward but would be grateful if you all remain present if you don’t mind.
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We have the feeling our questions may involve more of you. - Cover yourself! - How old is your performer?
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- Eighteen. - Show me your papers. So sixteen, not eighteen. Dress yourself and wait outside.
Speaker A
Mr. Hallward, you posted online some images of the late Sibyl Vane… - Where were they taken? - In my studio.
Speaker A
She was an intruder. She somehow found my address via the internet. Were you aware that she was dying?
Speaker A
No, I was not. As soon as I became aware that she was unwell, I called her a taxi.
Speaker A
Then you continued to photograph her? I am a photographer, yes. Were you aware she had taken an extremely powerful and ultimately lethal drug?
Speaker A
No, I was not. How did she obtain this drug? I have no idea. I assume she had it with her when she arrived.
Speaker A
I should emphasise, she was not invited. She broke into my studio without permission. It became clear she had been stalking me.
Speaker A
You did not find any label or packing for this drug. I do not think drugs usually come labelled as such.
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Are you experienced with drugs? Not at all Does anyone else here have anything to add?
Speaker A
Mr. Gray? She said she had the drug from someone in a club. She offered some to me, but I refused.
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That’s all I know. I know who you are, Mr. Gray. Don’t imagine that you are untouchable just because I cannot touch you.
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- There is someone following you. - Me? James Vane, Sibyl’s brother. - Following me? - Yes.
Speaker A
I do see. Excuse me for the time being at least. I thank you for your patience.
Speaker A
Dorian, you just looked at her and she crumbled away. In the face of beauty… It is your vanity that places me in this peril.
Speaker A
Again you post pictures without my consent. You tell me they post themselves by magic!
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You’re a fraud and a coward! - Dorian, believe me… - No! So James is on my trail.
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Who could blame him? I treated her badly, I discarded her, then left her behind in the trash… She was always unworthy of you… Be quiet, I know what I have to do.
Speaker A
I must purify myself. I must give my name to a noble cause. I must wash away this stench of implication, with my blood if needs be.
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I will work in the war zone where I am needed. I'll cleanse my name and image of all suspicion.
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I shall bring honesty to my smile, clarity to my eye, frankness to my gesture, openness to my heart, warmth to my hand.
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Where is he? Where is Prince Charming. They let him go? His smell is still here!
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The police let him go? He always escapes. His beauty charms its way out, it stifles suspicion.
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Who can look meanly on beauty personified, shaking its golden locks? Where do I find him now… In the former cinema I move between the beds row upon row.
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I bring water, food, my smile. I am happy! In the midst of hell there is profound goodness.
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Beauty is in every human soul. Look at this woman, look at the life in her eyes even as her body suffers.
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I walk here with Aisha the living, with Nour the light, with Rania the golden queen, with Layla at the pitch of night, with Salma the peaceful one, with Abir the perfume, with Aleena the soft and delicate, with Basma who smiled on me,
Speaker A
with Reihan and the scent of plants, with Baseera and Jamila. Basil, come here. My phone… - What about your phone? - Where is it?
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- I don’t have it. - It must be in the cinema… - Is it on? - I don’t remember… - Think, is it switched on? - Yes, I was posting… - Move! Away from here... - What do you…
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- They will track it… - Track it? - The drones will track it…. - Drones?
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- They are looking for you. - What? - You are seen as supporting the rebels. - What?
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- They will track it… - Looking for me…? Stop that. It’s obscene. Do you want to make art out of carrion?
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Beauty is everywhere… And nowhere, but in your perverted hands and eyes! Twisted! Degenerate! Inhuman!
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Basil, stop this vile exploitation. Stop I say. I order you, stop! Beauty is everywhere… All those people… Killed in an instant… Helpless patients… What did they do?
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Could they fight? Why kill them? He was the one they wanted to kill. Sprinkling his star dust over the sick.
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He was the one they wanted to kill, but everyone else has to die first… Always where the innocent die who do we find?
Speaker A
Always where the guilt is shrugged off onto another, who do we discover? And who is it who always arrives on the closing of the door, the vanishing of the prey… but nearer and nearer I come!
Speaker A
I tried to warn him. I told him to stop. He ignored me. He went up to the guard and… photographed him… The guard shot him three times… I tried to warn him. I told him to stop.
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He ignored me. He went up to the guard and… photographed him… Beauty is everywhere… Except where I see my own image!
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How it is twisted and tainted with the bitter herbs! How the agony of its guilt is made manifest… Try to calm down, dear. Try to forget.
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You are not to blame. Take this. This will help. This helps… takes away the image.
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Now beauty is here, in me, around me, I am beautiful… Amara… Eternal beauty… Is he gone already? Of course he is.
Speaker A
I get the pattern now. We cannot fight our fate. He seems to escape, but he will be delivered to me at the right time.
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Meanwhile, I brood and breed my hate, and never let it rest, never let it slacken, never give up.
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Always the same images, the same faces. Aisha living no longer, Nour in darkness, Rania deposed, Only the medicine relieves me of these faces, these accusing memories, only the medicine… Settle down boy.
Speaker A
We all need the medicine, but… You know my face was famous once. And they showed it in the gallery.
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Art on the walls and medicines in the bank. Art as narcotic – narcotic as art.
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The stuff that erases the memory of that face, that obscures it, wipes it out in the frenzy of clouds and blissful vapour.
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This will help you out, my boy. This will soothe… There is a man on the other side of the street, gesticulating, shouting. Do you know him?
Speaker A
I guess you’re in that state where you don’t know anything. Enjoy it, my boy.
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He’s still there, across the street, Shouting, gesticulating, he should be careful. Dangerous street... they’d rather kill than stop here… Here he comes, he’s crossing… pointing with his finger… - Who was he? - You know well, who he was.
Speaker A
Your nemesis. I am my nemesis. It’s all me. How come it is not written in your face.
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- It is written in my soul. - Your soul is black. Black, but my face is innocent.
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Innocence is your curse. And the curse of others. Prince Charming. You have to stop now, Dorian.
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There is nothing more to be done. You were so wonderful once. What happened? Life happened.
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It’s still happening… and the world can close over our heads, and I can be innocent and wonderful again.
Speaker A
Take this. You must erase it, eradicate, confront the evil, wipe it out. - And murder myself. - Instead of others.
Speaker A
Others, they paid the price of my innocence. Murder most foul, malign innocence. That image. Where is it?
Speaker A
- There is it. - Do it. - Take this and obliterate. - Go! Be gone!
Topics:Dorian GrayElżbieta SikoraPoznań OperaOperaVisionmodern operaidentitysocial mediaobsessionfamedigital age
