Review | The Picture of Dorian Gray

There are rare moments in theater when innovation, performance, and direction collide so powerfully that the result feels almost impossible to describe. Sarah Snook’s one-woman performance of The Picture of Dorian Gray, adapted and directed by Kip Williams, is such a moment. Nothing compares to what unfolds onstage—it is, quite simply, unlike anything that has ever existed in the theatrical canon.

From the moment the house lights dim at the Music Box Theatre, the audience is drawn into an experience that defies categorization. A dizzying hybrid of live theater, film, choreography, and multimedia installation, this production reimagines Oscar Wilde’s Gothic novel as a solo performance in which Snook astonishingly embodies upwards of 30 characters. She seamlessly moves between roles—sometimes in live performance, sometimes on screen, sometimes in direct interaction with her own pre-recorded selves.

Snook’s virtuosity is evident in every moment. As Dorian Gray, she’s chilling and magnetic. As Basil Hallward, the painter whose portrait becomes Dorian’s supernatural curse, she is melancholic and grounding. Each character—whether live or filmed—has distinct physicality, tone, and psychological texture. It’s not impersonation; it’s transformation. And it happens again and again in real time, with precise timing and unshakable emotional truth.

But Snook is not alone. The other stars of this production are the very much visible ensemble behind the many cameras (and smartphones!). A team of five or six camera operators performs alongside Snook with the energy and choreography of a dance troupe, weaving around the stage with fluid grace, capturing angles, expressions, and moments that are instantly projected on a series of onstage screens. There are times when up to five cameras are pointed at Snook simultaneously, turning her performance into a kaleidoscopic collage of perspectives—some live, some pre-recorded, all seamlessly synchronized.

What took me by surprise was how often I found myself laughing. The production is genuinely funny—sharp, witty, and at times delightfully absurd—yet never at the expense of the story’s depth. The humor is perfectly balanced with the darker, more unsettling themes at the heart of Wilde’s gothic novel: vanity, moral decay, and the price of eternal youth. Rather than undermining the source material, the comedy sharpens it, making the emotional turns more jarring and the tragedy more profound. It’s a testament to both the adaptation and Snook’s performance that the tone can shift so fluidly—one moment eliciting laughter, the next chilling silence.

One dinner party scene is a particular marvel: Snook plays six distinct characters—five pre-recorded on video, one live on stage—and carries on a rapid-fire conversation that feels as natural and immersive as if the entire table were filled with a full ensemble. Each character, though played by the same performer, has unique cadence, rhythm, and presence, creating a symphony of interaction so precise and convincing that it’s easy to forget it’s all Snook. It’s a moment that, in any other production, would be the centerpiece. Here, it’s just one of many.

The technical precision required for this type of performance is staggering. Timing, eye lines, audio cues, and pacing must all be flawless—and they are. Yet for all its spectacle, the show never loses sight of its emotional core. Wilde’s themes of vanity, beauty, decay, and moral erosion are not overshadowed by the production’s inventiveness; they are amplified. The technology doesn’t distract—it deepens.

Expectations for this production have been sky-high since it arrived from Australia, and they are not only met—they are shattered. This is not merely a play. It is a genre-defying, boundary-pushing feat of performance art.

Sarah Snook has delivered a masterclass in acting, and Kip Williams has directed a true theatrical revolution. The Picture of Dorian Gray is a once-in-a-lifetime experience that redefines what the stage can do—and what a single actor can achieve.

For those keeping track, I bought a magnet.

And now, a rare picture of me…