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Yes, this is not Oscar Wilde, Alfred Douglas, and John Sholto Douglas, Marquess of Queensbury (who was often just called "Queensbury"). Instead it's the actors portraying Oscar, Alfred, and Queensbury, in the film Wilde, who were Stephen Fry, Jude Law, and Tom Wilkinson.

Although a major fault of the times are the increasing number of people who use motion pictures for historical information, Wilde ranks as one film where filmmakers at least tried for historical accuracy. Or they did at least as much as possible in cinematic approximations. Much of the dialog is culled from Oscar's own words, and his double life - kind loving father and husband by day / party animal (to put it mildly) by night - is very well depicted.

Of course as the picture only runs two hours, the action has to be compressed and summarized and some scenes are actually invented. The shouting matches of Lord Alfred¹ and Queensbury accurately represent the discourse between the father and son, but the words were drawn from their correspondence. In the movie after one argument with his father Lord Alfred's walks away and then turns back and shouts: "WHAT A FUNNY LITTLE MAN YOU ARE!" In actuality Queensbury's rant was written in a letter and Alfred's response was sent by telegram. But a movie where the main characters spend their time before the camera reading and writing letters would not be likely to draw much of an audience.

Given that all historical movies will contain errors, it's worth noting that even the definitive (and monumental) biography of Oscar by Oxford processor Richard Ellman has mistakes. At one point Richard tells the story of when Oscar was in prison. Oscar noted that a fellow prisoner in the exercise yard trying to signal him. This was strictly against the rules, and Oscar ignored him. But when the man used the sign of a freemason's orphan - a sign that no Mason could ignore and Oscar was a member - Oscar had only one solution. He asked the warden to given him a pair of dark glasses to wear while in the yard.

Richard reported Oscar's account as fact. But true Oscar aficionados will recognize the story simply as a joke and dinner banter that Oscar told to his friends. Like so much of what Oscar wrote and said, he didn't expect anyone to take him seriously and would no doubt have been both amused (and delighted) to learn that a professor from Oxford - Oscar's alma mater - had written the story up as actual history.

The film Wilde had a particular but welcome characteristics that the casting department picked actors who closely resembled the historical characters, a trait that has been lacking in recent movies. After all Hugh Jackman bore scarce resemblance to P. T. Barnum and even in make-up you wouldn't confuse Leonardo DiCaprio with J. Edgar Hoover. And of course although the famous movie featuring Michael Shannon was praiseworthy, he really didn't look much like the King.

But Stephen, Jude, and Tom could easily pass as Oscar, Alfred, and Queensberry. Also the film portrays the personalities agreeing closely with the historical record. Tom portrays Queensberry as a boorish, uncouth, and possibly unstable brute. Stephen has Oscar as consciously elegant in public but who undergoes a change in personality in his secret private life among London's "rent boys". Finally Alfred is shown as a petulant, childish, and spoiled brat which is a characteristic that can be missed even when reading the books. Of course Alfred had the last word. For nearly half a century after both Oscar and Queensbury had died², Alfred was able to write articles and books where he ultimately blamed Oscar for all his troubles even though his difficulties were really his own doing.

But no screenplay is perfect. One of the minor historical inaccuracies is Oscar's hairstyle. In the movie it's kept close to shoulder length which is a style we see in many of Oscar's photographs. But the long tresses were mostly sported during his earlier days as a lecturer. Then around 1883 - which was Oscar's second visit to America - he had his hair cut to more conventional lengths. Ironically some of the photos show him sporting a style that wasn't common until the mid-1960's when the Four Lads from Liverpool came to America and - as did Oscar - completely took the country over.

The reason for Oscar's visit across the water is a story in itself. In 1882 Richard D'Oyly Carte, the producer of the Gilbert and Sullivan operas, arranged for Oscar to lecture literally from New York to California and from Montreal to Galveston. Richard, William, and Arthur were planning an American tour of the new G&S operetta Patience where the main character Reginald Bunthorne was (and is) usually seen as a caricature of Oscar. So having the Real Oscar on tour would be great publicity for the American performances of Patience.

Oscar's tour was, to put it mildly, a success. He lectured to sold out crowds (including to a group of gold miners in Leadville, Colorado). The irony is that in the first production in London, Bunthorne was played by George Grossmith whose stage costume was clearly modeled, not on Oscar, but on James McNeil Whister.

Oscar was not a new face in America. He was being mentioned in American newspapers as an English poet as early as 1880, well before the tour. One of the earliest stories about Oscar was when he translated a poem written by the famous Polish actress Helena Modjeska. The accuracy of the story is questionable since translating would have been difficult since Oscar didn't know Polish. So despite what Will Rogers said, sometimes you don't know what you read in the newspapers.

But it does appear from multiple reports that Miss Modjeska and Oscar later rubbed elbows with another famous personality. At least a news item reported:

Mme. Modjeska, General Grant, and Oscar Wilde formed a group at a reception in New York the other evening.

Yes. It seems Oscar actually met "Unconditional Surrender" Grant.

It was early - in January, 1881 - that the snarky jibes directed toward Oscar began to appear:

Dainty Oscar Wlde
London Letter in Indianapolis Journal

The London professional beauties have a rival in a youth of the masculine sex, one Oscar Wilde, a poet and "apostle of the esthetic school." His photographs appear in the shop window beside those beautiful women who may say, with the dairymaid of the popular ballad, "My face is my fortune, sir." This young gentlemen, of good family, and talents that might have earned him distinction in various lines of useful work, prefers to employ his time in posing before London society in eccentric attire and with a lily in his hand, - lilies which they call arums, being what one may call the distinguishing sign of bit affected and senseless school, who consider themselves the sole representatives of esthetic thought, costume, and manners.

In another snippet you read:

Male beauties are all the rage in London just now, Oscar Wilde, a youth of 19, being the latest celebrity. Malicious people who have insinuated that Whitelaw Reid is not modest should remember that he has not even intimated an intention of going to England.

It was Whitelaw Reid, by the way, who had assumed the helm at the New York Tribune after Horace Greeley (of "Go west, young man!" fame) died. Whitelow was a man not known for his modesty. Also Oscar was 26 at the time, not 19.

A perusal of the news reports may surprise Oscar's fans for their negative, or at least sardonic character.

"It is said," begins The Boston Courier, "that Oscar Wilde, the original of 'Postlethwaite' in Du Maurier's clever caricatures in Punch, being about to publish a volume of poems in England, wrote to a Boston house proposing that the volume be issued here at the same time. The house wrote back that they should be pleased to examine the work with a view to deciding upon Mr. Wilde's proposal, but the poet-æsthete was so disgusted with the impertinent presumption of an American who dared hint that his poems should be examined, like the work of ordinary mortals, that he broke off negotiations at once."

It also seems that Oscar exhibited some characteristics contrary to the preferences of the more macho-minded reporters. One clip that was printed repeatedly from New York to Idaho ran:

Mrs. Langtry and the other professional beauties of London have a rival in the shape of a beautiful youth named Oscar Wilde, a poet and an "æsthetic". His picture adorns all of the shop windows, and is taken in the æsthetic style, with a bunch of lilies in his hand.

Of course, Oscar was not the only "aesthete". We also read:

THE "ÆSTHETES"

London Letter

[London is] reserving its energies for the coming season, but the "high art" and "æesthetic" school still nourishes in society and finds many devotees. Those "cultured" beings form a sort of mutual admiration society, and every young poet, painter, and composer who joins their ranks finds himself surrounded by a host of kindred spirits, still wilting to yield him the same tribute of feverish worship which he pays them. The young men affect long hair through which they carelessly run their fingers, low collars, neck ties of strange hues, and very ill-made clothes. the women, too, are fearfully and wonderfully garbed. Trailing robes of the "Pegnoir" style, made of quaint materials of still quainter colors, mustard yellows, pickley greens, oriental reds, and indescribable blues, the hair generally dressed in the classic Greek knot without the slightest reference to the type of face. Add to this strings of beads galore and very dirty old lace with any "quaint" additions in the shape of medieval shoes, peacock feathers, etc., and you will have a very fair idea of the London "æsthetic" of today. Any ordinary mortal who does not understand this kind of thing, and who ventures to say so, is at once spoken of as a "Philistine."

But Oscar was, as we read, the instigator.

The leader, and I believe the founder, of this school is young Oscar Wilde and in him is consummated the "utterness" of their creed. He speaks in a pathetic monotone, poses in languid attitudes, and is generally surrounded by a bevy of admiring girls. He likes to be seen with Rushkin, whom he addresses as "Master."
 One is constantly hearing fresh stories of Oscar Wilde. This is the last: He informed the world that the event of this century had taken place under his roof. Mrs. Langtry and Rushkin met in his chambers. The "Master" was quietly sipping his cup of afternoon tea, when the door suddenly opened and the "Jersey Lilly " walked in. Rushkin rose, advanced to meet her with outstretched hands, exclaiming: "We have no poets, we have no painters, but we have beautiful women who hold our destinies in their hands!" Mrs. Langtry nearly swooned. Æesthetic tableau.

Articles about Oscar got longer by mid-1881. And it seems at least by June 9 some writers were trying seriously to understand the phenomenon that was Oscar (and to skip this rather lengthy excerpt just click here.)

The Æsthetes

An Amusing Description of the New Fashion In Fools

[Mrs. Julian Hawthorne In Harper's Bazar.]
Americans have no doubt, through the medium of Punch, made a vicarious acquaintance with the Intense School, which just now dominates a section of London society. Mr. Du Maurier is an extremely clever caricaturist, and his caricatures are founded, in this instance, upon fact. But the fact itself is not exactly what the caricature would lead one to expect; and a statement of certain aspects of the fact, as they have appeared to an observer on the spot, may have some interest for investigation on the American side of the water. As the name of Mr. Oscar Wilde has been mentioned in some of the public prints in London, it may be admissible to say here that this gentleman is considered to be largely responsible for many of the æsthetic episodes and for much of the æsthetic jargon which Punch has commemorated.
 Mr. Wilde, as he who runs may know, is an Irishman by parentage, a University man, and a Newdigate gold-medalist—a distinction bestowed, we understand, for success in classic verse. In appearance he is noticable [sic], if not striking, being tall and large (thus differing somewhat from Du Maurier's Postlethwaite), with straight flaxen hair brushed back behind his ears, and allowed to grow long enough to reach his collar. His ordinary attire (when not in dinner dress) is a long-skirted black coat buttoned round his figure, a white or yellow flower in his button hole, a white waistcoat, lavender gloves, and silk hat - we have never seen him descend to a three-button cut away coat. His ordinary expression is serene and blandly supercilious, but in conversation his smile is ready and affable, and his laugh frequent and pronounced. Whether his mirth be the expression of veritable inward hilarity, or but a superficial spasm designed to conceal inward melancholy, is, of course, best known to himself; but his philosophy of life, so far as it can be estimated, does not seem to be an especially happy one. He is inclined to reject the idea of an immortal existence after death, because it would destroy the beauty of pathos! "If I part here from one I love," he would say, - "and know that the parting is for eternity as well as for time, I feel the beauty of pathos; but if I am to believe that we shall meet here after, and wander hand in hand through the Elysian Fields forever, the beauty of pathos vanishes at once". His religion, in short, would seem to be the Beautiful, in whatever expressed; it has probably been the religion of others before him, the difference being that Mr. Wilde finds beauty in many things in which the general sense of mankind has failed to detect it; and the reverse is also true. It is difficult, however to give an accurate estimate of his beliefs, because he believes in the beauty of impulse and emotion, and impulse and emotion sometimes lead him as well as others in contradictory directions.
 Thus, at one time he will declare that all artistic beauty resides in color; at another time he will see its only embodiment in form. in other matters Mr. Wilde's ideas are often, at all events, remarkable. He affirms Mr Burne-Jones to be the artist, not of the future, but of the age; and he explains himself as meaning that in Mr. Burne-Jones's pictures the ruling spirit or idea of the present day is embodied. If he is met by the objection that nobody sympathizes with Mr. Burne-Jones's work except the small clique of critics among whom Mr. Wilde is himself the most eminent, he replies that the same sort of thing might have been said of Wordsworth, of Shelley, of Keats, of Turner. George Eliot he pronounces to have been an altogether over rated woman, though ho admits her to have been not devoid of a certain kind and degree of merit. Thackeray he abominates, and all his works. Whatever may be the general opinion about these and numberless other similar pronunciamentos of the head of the æsthetic clan, it is beyond dispute that he has made himself one of the most talked of personages in London. Three theatres during the past season have brought out plays the raison d'etre of which is Mr. Wilde and his eccentricities. Punch has made an especial study of him. The World and other society journals have devoted leading articles to the discussion of the character which he enacts. His name is known in all fashionable drawing rooms, and his face in very many of them. Those who have not seen him can have no rest until they have done so. At the opera or the play his presence is recognized and commented on by the gallery. Even in Parliament his contemplative figure is frequently beheld though Mr. Wilde has very little sympathy with politics. The other day the Prince of Wales requested that Mr. Wilde might be presented to bim. "I have never yet had the pleasure of meeting you," His Royal Highness remarked, "and not to know Mr. Wilde - is not to be known." This was a compliment almost worthy of Mr. Wilde himself. That gentleman scarcely needed the stamp of royal favor to complete his social currency; but; whatever it may be worth, he has it now. It is not the first time that he has been associated with distinguished or conspicuous names. A year or two ago he dubbed himself "Mrs. Langtree's Oscar Wilde," and declared that his idea of heaven was to sit at the feet of the Jersey Lily and pelt her with flowers.* As a general rule he is a favorite with women, who abuse him before they have met him, but afterward confess that they find him very clever and agreeable. "And he must be clever, you know, because he got the Newdigate medal," we heard one naïve creature say. The rejoinder from one who had not met Mr. Wilde was, "I thought someone got that every year." As a matter of fact, it would appear that the Newdigate medal was never much of a distinction until Mr. Wilde made it so by getting it.
 The question is constantly asked, by those in search of information, whether Mr. Wilde is really sincere in his æsthetic notions or whether he promulgates them merely in order to gain notoriety, and is secretly laughing in his sleeve all the while at those who are duped by his antics and eccentricities. This is a question upon which public opinion is pretty equally divided. "A clever man would not be such a fool," says one side; "So clever a man cannot be a fool," says the other. We ourselves think that it takes a clever man to be so-original. Mr. Wilde himself is somewhat ambiguous on the point. To one person he is reported to have said, "I should never have believed, had I not experienced it for myself, how easy it is to become the most prominent figure in society." To another he protested, "I have never said or done anything which has not been the outcome of a genuine sentiment or conviction." Once again he observed, "I am certain that I have had three separate and distinct souls." If this be the case, it is possible that he may some day have still another, and that the fourth tenant of his mortality may lead him in quite other paths than those which he has lately frequented, thereby realizing a prediction which he is said to have uttered, to the effect that by-and-by he should give up this kind of thing, and attain eminence in some other way. The truth may perhaps be that Mr. Wilde has discovered within himself a faculty of influencing - we will not say imposing upon - the popular mind by the audacious and imperturbable proclamation of inconceivable nonsense; that he has thereupon fooled the popular mind to the top of its bent, and that in the process he has inadvertently made himself more or less of a party to the general delusion. Among his other accomplishments, he has written a good many fugitive verses, and may excusably consider himself to be dowered with the fatal gift of artistic genius with all that this is supposed to imply of immunity from the common lot and superiority to common limitations. It is easy to multiply sensations and sentiments, especially if you can make them become the talk of the town. It is certain that Mr. Wilde evinces both diligence and ingenuity in circulating reports about himself and his adventures. If he has confided a memorable absurdity to you - such as that he was shut out of his house the other night and "slept on a moonbeam" - and you hasten to confide it, in your turn to the next person you meet, ten to one you will be interrupted by, "Oh, he told me that yesterday!" Many of the texts upon which Du Maurier's pictures are founded had been circulating in society before they appeared in Punch. "It is so hard to live up to one's blue china!" was an exclamation which became famous long before Du Maurier adapted it to his design of the young married couple who resolve to live up to their tea-pot. The episode of the young gentleman who goes to a restaurant and dines upon a lily in a glass of water is also a veritable incident in Mr. Wilde's career. The attitudes and poses, the intertwined legs, and cheek resting upon clasped hands, and a great deal of the general tone of character and phraseology which marks the Maudle and Postlethwaite school, might be found, in their germ at least, in the gentleman whom we have attempted to portray. He perhaps found the suggestions for the super structure he has raised in such sources as Rossetti and Swinburne and Burne-Jones. But he would never have reached his present eminence had not his career been in accord with one of the distinct tendencies of the day. He was acute enough, and fortunate enough, or unfortunate enough, to perceive this tendency, and clever enough to give it forcible and conspicuous development. Mr. Oscar Wilde is one of the signs of the times, and in this sense is really a great man. He has identified himself with a popular (though strictly limited) movement, and so long as that movement endures he will be famous. When it comes to an end, so must he. But he will be remembered by the future historian as its chief embodiment. He is the Beau Brummel of modern æsthetic sentimentality, and be his rôle a more honorable and healthy one than Brummel's or not, it must bo admitted that he en acts it with equal spirit and thoroughness.
 It is needless to remark that Mr. Wilde has had an abundance of disciples of his own sex, but none of them have achieved anything approaching to the notoriety of their prophet, and none, perhaps, have kept up the game so long. Indeed, to be a really distinguished "æsthete" is by no means so easy a matter as might be supposed. Quite possibly it may be the very most trying and exhausting enterprise that a sane human being could attempt. We know that in mediæval times the office of the fool or jester was no sinecure. The demands of society were inexorable and endless; the fool must always be ready with his folly, or woe to him! Mr. Oscar Wilde may well have felt an analogous strain upon his own re sources. Day by day the necessity for the invention of some fresh extravagance presses up on him. It is almost appalling to reflect how weary and at his wits' and he must sometimes be. And after all, it cannot go on forever. Even if he holds out, society will sooner or later turn to something else, and will not be grateful to him who has kept it amused so long. It is a depressing prospect.
 As for the female priestesses of the faith, it would be a difficult as well as an ungracious task to identify them. Few or none of them have succeeded in becoming-generally known. If there be a concrete Mrs. Cimabue-Browne, probably no two persons would be agreed as to who she is. This ambiguity arises from two causes: the lack of a sufficiently marked female individuality, and a deficiency of persistent purpose. Mrs. Cimabue-Browne is a type rather than an individual. the assumption of the character is a device where by a woman who is not naturally noticeable may appear noticeable. It is a question of costume and pose, and of the repetition of a few extravagancies in the way of adverbs and adjectives, such as "intense," "subtle," "consummate," etc. The costume is, upon the whole, the best part of the affair. English women were not wont to be beautiful in their attire; but now, under the combined influence of Worth and Postleshwaite, most of them dress more becomingly than of yore. Certain ungainly conventionalities are being done away with, and even where the ungainliness remains, it is something to have got rid of the conventionality. A woman may dress now pretty nearly as she pleases, and if her good stars have vouchsafed her anything approach ing to taste, she is not debarred, as formerly, from taking advantage of it to the utmost. At the Private View at the Academy, and still more at the Grosvenor, Mrs. Cimabue-Browne shows us from year to year what progress she has made, and we go to see her more than to study the pictures. Sometimes she looks grotesquely hideous, often she looks rather well, and once in a while extremely pretty. The jargon will disappear by-and-by, but the new light in clothes will remain, and, it may be hoped, improve. When each woman is allowed to dress in the way that becomes her best, and - which is still more to the purpose - has learned how to do it, the æsthetic school, which has been ridiculed so much, will be said to have deserved not ill of the community. The same is true of the present craze for house decoration. At one time every new follower of the fashion aped the dull blue-greens of the first examples, but now the desire for real beauty in any and every form is being cultivated, and each house is in some measure the reflection of the special beauty liked of its master, and not a slavish imitation of the last fashionable fad. But at the worst, a replica of a beautiful thing is certainly more desirable than that of an ugly one, and we remember the time when much ridicule was cast on wealthy homes by the fact they wore all of one pattern, and that your next door neighbor's entrance hall was precisely like your own—and they were both ugly.
 Of course ridicule has no effect in deterring the disciples of a cult, the essence of which is its ridiculousness. The only method of patting an end to such a thing is to neglect it, and no one seems to have thought of doing that. It is, as we have said, a natural outgrowth of the whimsical and indeterminate condition of people's minds in this great hot-bed of modern civilization - one of the effects of skepticism acting upon brains not strong enough to comprehend its meaning, but desirous of being "in the swim." Perhaps it owes a good part of its luxuriance to the very critics who have labored most diligently to expose its absurdity. Mr. Whistler, the artist, was once entertaining some friends in the little gallery in Bond Street wherein his "Venice Pastels" were exhibited, when Mr. Du Maurier entered, and a few minutes later Mr. Oscar Wilde also appeared. Mr. Whistler caught both these personages by the sleeve and brought them face to face before one another. He then addressed them as follows:
 "Look here, now, you fellows, I say, how was it? Which one of you invented the other, eh?" This was hitting the nail upon the head. The verdict would probably be that there were faults on both sides.

*This is another of Mr. Wilde's contradictions, for nothing could be farther from the (esthetic type of beauty which Mr. Wilde admires in Mr. Burne Jones's canvasses than Mrs. Langtry's beauty and style, either in face, figure, costume or attitude.

(To return to the beginning of the excerpt, just click here.

Just a few days later, stories got out about Oscar heading to America.

Mr. Oscar Wilde - otherwise Punch’s æsthetic Postlewaite - is, it is reported, thinking of coming to America to lecture on Art.

But when people saw Oscar in person, they were surprised. Rather than a small slight "æsthetic", they saw a tall broadly built young man. Oscar was in fact quite strong and once when a group of students at Oxford tried to "rag" him, he simply grabbed them and tossed them out of his room.

But long after Oscar returned home, you'd still see snide remarks:

The most depressing news we have had for a long time is the report that Asiatic cholera and Oscar Wilde will reach America next year. Strict quarantine regulations against Oscar should be enforced. - Norristown Herald.

Oscar did return to America but only to see the opening of his play Vera or The Nihilists in August, 1883. The play was produced by Marie Prescott who also took the starring role. The play, though, wasn't a success and closed after a run of one week.

Oscar, though, did make a lecture tour of England in 1884 and it, too, was a success. He then began working as editor of Women's World magazine. It wasn't unusual for men to helm the staff of distaff publications - a characteristic that continued well past the mid-20th Century). But at least Oscar, in one of his early real accomplishments, did help make the magazine a success.

References and Further Reading

Oscar Wilde on Trial: The Criminal Proceedings, from Arrest to Imprisonment, Joseph Bristow, Yale University Press, 2023.

The Real Trial of Oscar Wilde: The First Uncensored Transcript of the Trial of Oscar Wilde vs. John Douglas (Marquess of Queensberry), 1895 Edited by Merlin Holland, Fourth Estate, Harper Collins, 2003.

The Three Trials of Oscar Wilde, H. Montgomery Hyde, University Books, (1956).

Oscar Wilde, Richard Ellmann, Knopf (1988).

Complete Letters of Oscar Wilde, Rupert Hart-Davis and Merlin Holland, Henry Holt (Pub). 2000.

Oscar Wilde The Aftermath, H. Montgomergy Hyde, Farrar, Straus and Company, 1963.

The Cambridge Companion to Oscar Wilde, Peter Raby (editor), Cambridge University Press, 1997.

Oscar Wilde in America, John Cooper.

"Telegraphic: News by Wire Reduced to Close Quarters for Convenient Reference and Easy Reading", Wood County [Wisconsin] Reporter, January 4, 1883, Image 1

"Dainty Oscar Wilde", Chicago Daily Tribune, January 8, 1881, p. 16.

"Personals", Chicago Daily Tribune, February 18, 1881, p. 4.

"Histrionic Tales", Chicago Daily Tribune, November 29, 1880, p. 7.

"THE AESTHETES", Chicago Daily Tribune, March 15, 1881, p. 12.

"Literary Notes", New-York Tribune, March 2, 1881, p. 6.

"Persons and Things", The Worthington Advance, March 3, 1881., p. 4.

"Washington Letter", Idaho Semi-weekly World, March 4, 1881, p. 2.

"Foreign Gossip", The [Oakland, Maryland] Republican, March 19, 1881, p. 6.

"The AEsthetes", The Portland [Maine] Daily Press, June 9, 1881. p. 1.

"General News", Daily Kennebec [Maine] Journal, June 16, 1881. p. 1.

. [microfilm reel], June 16, 1881, p. 1.

"Pungent Paragraphs", The [Oakland, Maryland] Republican, December 20, 1884, p. 2.

"Histrionic Tales", Chicago Daily Tribune, November 29, 1880, p. 7.

"Robert Baldwin Ross", Edward Butts, July 15, 2021.

"A Portrait of Robert Ross", Janet Bonellie, Canada's History, June 12, 2019.

"A Culminating Horrow", Los Angeles Herald, April 07, 1895, p. 6.

Wilde (Film, 1997). Stephen Fry (Star), Brian Gilbert (Director), Julian Moore (Script).