We are drawn into the opulence of Lord Henry's Mayfair library, a room teeming with comfort served in a visual feast of high panelled wainscoting, cream-coloured frieze, and a carpet strewn with silk Persian rugs. Here, Dorian Gray reclines, awaiting the fashionably late Lord Henry.
Someone arrives, but it is not Lord Henry. Instead, it is Lady Henry, a woman who defies conventionality with her tempest-dressed appearance and vague forget-me-not eyes. She is perpetually in love but rarely loved, an unfortunate paradox that has allowed her to retain all her illusions. As they exchange pleasantries, Harry arrives, and Lady Henry has to dash off to her promised drive with the duchess. Harry, seizing the opportunity, advises Dorian on the sentimentality of women, the disappointment of marriage, and the uniqueness of love.
Their conversation unfolds into a confession from Dorian: he is in love with an actress named Sibyl Vane. Played out on the stage of London's east end, Sibyl morphs between characters, casting a spell on Dorian with her devastating performances and personification of the world's great heroines. Her art, her personality, place her as an enigma to the ordinary women of their society.
As Dorian Gray departs for his evening's theatre visit, Lord Henry contemplates the transformative power he has over young Dorian, a living work of art, his creation. His mind weaves thoughts around the mysteries of soul and body, the errant nature of experience, and the intriguing possibility of this complex passion for Sibyl Vane.
