We are, of course, blessed in England with a language in which often a single word can be made to do double duty and capture a given situation to perfection. I employ such a word in my summary where 'wild' refers not only to the focus of the film Oscar Wilde but also to his ambivalent feelings to his bete noire Lord Alfred Douglas aka Bosie, the object of Wilde's love/lust who treated him abominally and could truthfully be described as Wilde's nemesis. Rupert Everett's passion for and commitment to the project is undeniable and shines through every frame but like at least one other person writing here I was strangely unmoved ultimately and I cry at card tricks. There was in England - indeed may still be - a manufacturer of brass instruments named Boosey & Hawkes which allowed the observation that Oscar Wilde was fond of blowing his own trumpet - a Bosie & Hawkes. Bosie, it appears, was bad for Wilde in more ways than one.

Although it focuses on the less well-known final years of Wilde's life, the script follows a traditional arc and has little new to say about the writer or his relationships.Ross and Douglas are presented as daggers drawn in the service of a script which identifies them as Wilde's 'good' and 'bad' angels. The reality was much messier, and records show that during Wilde's lifetime they remained friends, at least on the surface. It was only a good while after his death that they fell out, with appalling consequences for both of them. In this context, the film's depiction of the altercation between the two men at Wilde's funeral is particularly ridiculous. If the eye witness account of the poet Paul Fort is to be believed, there was a hysterical scene when Douglas tried to throw himself into the grave, but it didn't lead to fisticuffs with Ross.This aside, there is much to enjoy in the film, not least Rupert Everett's compelling central performance, its impressionistic structure and the stunning cinematography and costumes. There are also interesting and nuanced supporting performances from Emily Watson and Colin Morgan, even within the strait jacket of a script that has little to add to received wisdom about their characters.

Rupert Everett fulfils a long-held ambition here to make a film about the last days of Oscar Wilde, and in the title role he is simply terrific - he is never off the screen. To write it and direct it as well, however, is to take on too much; indeed the need for an objective view is often apparent when it comes to narrative and structure. The film starts slowly (with a dreadful cardboard cut-out of London by night that could have taken from Olivier's wartime Henry V) and it's some time before the flashbacks (and flashbacks within flashbacks) begin. Supporting performances, especially from Colin Morgan as Bosie and Emily Watson (under-used) as Constance, are excellent and the photography,(particularly in the Italian sequences) beautiful, though I found the half-shadows of the faces in the candlelight rather tiresome. I must add that, for someone who is penniless and constantly on the run, Wilde does possess a large wardrobe. There is more humour than one might expect (I won't spoil your enjoyment by quoting any of the jokes but I found the sequence where the priest (Tom Wilkinson) comes to give Wilde the extreme unction especially hilarious). Great attention is paid to the soundtrack, but why the use of Tchaikovsky's Pathetique Symphony at the end? All in all a fine effort, but I did leave the cinema strangely unmoved.

I hope Rupert Everett will get all possible awards (Like I hoped for 3 Billboards last year :) He played, directed and wrote the skript. Took 10 years. But the way its all done! I am in love. His first movie - like first love - raw and real and true and deeply personal. And no fashionable, self-loving "make up" "adv commercial" reality. Watch on big screen. And last words on black screen will put everything in even bigger prospective.P.S. You will not recognize him, though he is playing with no prosthetics.