This film is at least as good as the Stephen Fry effort made nearly four decades on, and has the added attraction of having no intimate scenes of perverted sex; homosexual acts between consenting adults were still illegal in 1960, even on film! Having said that, it starts in the middle, so for those not familiar with the story of Wilde's downfall, a little imagination is required, though to be fair it is specifically about his trials, which start at around one hour in.
Strangely, the note Queensbury delivered to Wilde's club appears with the classic spelling mistake corrected. Normally the spelling he used - somdomite - is offered as proof of him being an illiterate brute rather than a man who was concerned about his son's perverted relationship with a much older man. The note is extant.
The Wilde of Peter Finch is also more deserving of sympathy that that of Fry because he comes across more of a fool than a tortured artist, as indeed he was, throwing away everything for a man who ultimately cared only for himself.
Strangely, the note Queensbury delivered to Wilde's club appears with the classic spelling mistake corrected. Normally the spelling he used - somdomite - is offered as proof of him being an illiterate brute rather than a man who was concerned about his son's perverted relationship with a much older man. The note is extant.
The Wilde of Peter Finch is also more deserving of sympathy that that of Fry because he comes across more of a fool than a tortured artist, as indeed he was, throwing away everything for a man who ultimately cared only for himself.