If you're a fan of period dramas or legal thrillers, you've probably noticed something weird about 1960. It was the year of the "Wilde Wars." Two different studios scrambled to release movies about the exact same scandal at the exact same time. It was messy. But while Oscar Wilde (starring Robert Morley) has its fans, The Trials of Oscar Wilde movie—the one featuring Peter Finch—is the one that actually sticks in your ribs.
It’s a strange piece of cinema history. Honestly, it’s kinda miraculous it got made at all, considering the subject matter was still technically "gross indecency" under British law when the cameras were rolling.
Why 1960 Was a Reckoning for Oscar Wilde
Technicolor was the big selling point back then. This movie didn't just tell a story; it splashed the Victorian era across the screen in these deep, saturated hues that made the courtroom feel like a velvet-lined trap. Peter Finch plays Wilde. He doesn't just play him as a dandy or a wit; he plays him as a man who is slowly, agonizingly realizing that his brilliance won't save him from a rigged game.
The plot stays remarkably close to the actual transcripts. You’ve got the Marquess of Queensberry—played with terrifying, spittle-flecked rage by James Mason—leaving that infamous calling card at Wilde's club. He spelled "somdomite" wrong, by the way. That tiny, ignorant typo sparked a legal chain reaction that destroyed the most famous writer in the world.
Most people don't realize how much of a gamble this was for the producers. In 1960, the Wolfenden Report had only recently suggested that private homosexual acts between consenting adults should be decriminalized in the UK, but the law didn't actually change until 1967. Making a movie that framed Wilde as a tragic hero rather than a degenerate was, basically, a radical act of empathy.
The Chemistry of Disaster: Finch and Nielsen
Let’s talk about John Fraser as Lord Alfred "Bosie" Douglas. He’s perfect. He’s pretty, he’s petulant, and he is absolutely toxic. You watch the screen and you just want to yell at Finch to run the other direction. But that’s the tragedy, isn't it? Wilde couldn't.
✨ Don't miss: Austin & Ally Maddie Ziegler Episode: What Really Happened in Homework & Hidden Talents
The movie handles the relationship with a sort of delicate "read between the lines" energy that was necessary for the time. You won't see explicit scenes, obviously. Instead, you get these long, heavy silences and looks of sheer exhaustion. It captures the exhaustion of living a double life in a way that feels more authentic than a modern, more graphic retelling might.
What the Movie Gets Right About the Law
The courtroom scenes are the meat of the film. They are brutal. You see the transition from the first trial—where Wilde is the prosecutor suing for libel—to the final trials where he is the defendant.
- The Libel Case: Wilde is at his peak here. He’s cracking jokes. He’s treating the witness stand like a stage at the St. James's Theatre.
- The Cross-Examination: This is where the mood shifts. Edward Carson, the defense lawyer, starts bringing up the "gilded youths." The movie doesn't shy away from the class dynamics at play. Wilde wasn't just being punished for his sexuality; he was being punished for crossing class lines with "valets and grooms."
Finch’s performance during the "Love that dare not speak its name" speech is legendary. He doesn't shout it. He says it with this quiet, defiant dignity that makes the surrounding lawyers look like small, grey men.
The Production Scramble and the "Other" Movie
It’s wild to think about the logistics. Warwick Films (the studio behind the Finch version) was racing against Vantage Films. Warwick had the bigger budget and the Technicolor license. Vantage had Robert Morley, who had actually played Wilde on stage to great acclaim.
Because Warwick was shooting in color and on a grander scale, they had to move fast. They finished filming in about five weeks. You’d think that would make it look cheap, but the frantic energy actually works. It feels claustrophobic. The Victorian sets feel less like a museum and more like a cage.
🔗 Read more: Kiss My Eyes and Lay Me to Sleep: The Dark Folklore of a Viral Lullaby
Ken Hughes, the director, took some flak for being "too sympathetic." Some critics at the time thought the film glossed over Wilde’s flaws. But looking back now, the movie feels remarkably balanced. Wilde is shown as arrogant. He’s shown as someone who could have walked away—who should have walked away to France—but stayed because of a mix of pride and a misplaced belief in British justice.
Why Does a 60-Year-Old Movie Still Matter?
Honestly, because it isn't just about the past. The Trials of Oscar Wilde movie serves as a reminder of how quickly society can turn on its idols. One day Wilde is the toast of London, and the next, his name is being scraped off theater posters with a chisel.
The film also captures the "death of the wit." By the end of the movie, Wilde isn't speaking in epigrams anymore. The sentences are short. He’s broken. It’s a physical transformation that Peter Finch nails—moving from a man who occupies space with total confidence to someone who tries to make himself as small as possible in the dock.
Real-World Impact and Legacy
When the film was released in the US, it was often retitled The Man with the Green Carnation. Studios were terrified that having "Oscar Wilde" in the title would scare off audiences in more conservative states.
Even with the censorship and the title changes, it won the Golden Globe for Best English-Language Foreign Film. It also snagged Peter Finch a BAFTA for Best Actor. It’s a film that forced a mainstream audience to look at the human cost of Victorian morality.
💡 You might also like: Kate Moss Family Guy: What Most People Get Wrong About That Cutaway
Interestingly, the movie avoids the "misery porn" trope. It doesn't end with Wilde’s death in a dingy Paris hotel (though it's hinted at). It ends with him leaving England, a ghost of his former self. It leaves the viewer with a sense of profound waste. All that genius, gone because a Marquess got angry about a calling card.
How to Watch and What to Look For
If you’re going to track this down, make sure you’re getting the restored version. The Technicolor is the star of the show. Pay attention to:
- The Lighting in the Courtroom: Watch how the shadows get longer and harsher as the trials progress.
- The Costumes: Wilde’s clothes start out flamboyant and slowly become more subdued, mirroring his loss of status.
- The Dialogue: Listen for the actual lines from the trial. "I do not know what 'affectionate' means to you" is a particularly stinging comeback that made it into the script.
There’s a lot of debate about which Wilde movie is "best." Rupert Everett’s The Happy Prince (2018) is great for the later years. Stephen Fry’s Wilde (1997) is perhaps the most comprehensive. But the 1960 version is the one that feels like a vital historical artifact. It was a movie fighting for a man’s dignity at a time when that man was still legally considered a criminal.
Actionable Takeaways for History and Film Buffs
If you want to go deeper than just watching the movie, here is how to contextualize the experience:
- Read the transcripts: Compare the movie’s dialogue to the actual court records found in The Real Trial of Oscar Wilde by Merlin Holland (Wilde's grandson). You’ll see that the "too good to be true" lines were actually said in court.
- Check the legal context: Research the Labouchere Amendment of 1885. Understanding that Wilde was prosecuted under a brand-new "moral" law helps explain why the legal traps in the movie were so hard to escape.
- Compare the "Wilde" portrayals: Watch 15 minutes of the Robert Morley version (released the same year) and then 15 minutes of Peter Finch. The difference in tone—from Morley’s theatricality to Finch’s psychological realism—tells you everything about where cinema was headed in the 1960s.
- Track the "Green Carnation" symbol: The movie uses this as a recurring motif. Researching the actual history of the flower as a secret code in 1890s London adds another layer of meaning to the scenes at the Royal Opera House.
The movie isn't just a biopic. It's a study of a legal assassination. It remains a essential viewing for anyone interested in the intersection of celebrity, law, and social change.