THE QUEST FOR CLASS AND MONEY BLURS THE LINES OF MORALITY
Delusions of the rich match the dreams of the not-sorich. By Margaret Gardiner
If you were an adult in 1999, you probably remember The Talented Mr. Ripley, Anthony Minghella’s sundrenched film based on the book by Patricia Highsmith, starring what were the hottest names of the decade: Jude Law, Matt Damon and Gwyneth Paltrow. It felt like the ultimate manifestation of art and beauty — but had a wicked twist. So when I heard Netflix had adapted the book into an eight-part series, I stifled a yawn. What could it add?
Then I saw the series was directed by Steven Zaillian, who wisely decided to shoot Ripley in evocative black and white, and all memories of The Talented Mr. Ripley were expunged. The cinematography is lush, and the monotone aesthetic captures the mood of “frustrated desire” as it bubbles beneath the surface — the lusting after a lifestyle, a man, a sense of belonging. The envy that permeates the series is palpable.
It helps to remember that Zaillian won an Oscar and a Golden Globe for his screenplay for Schindler’s List. He’s also the writer of the films Gangs of New York and Moneyball. So his pedigree is strong.
Andrew Scott is Tom Ripley, a grifter hired by a tycoon to go to Europe — all expenses paid — to convince his son Dickie Greenleaf (Johnny Flynn) to return to America. Greenleaf’s father mistakenly believes Ripley is a close friend of his son. In fact, Ripley is a desperate
man without means who is willing to transgress boundaries to gratify his needs.
Ripley finds Greenleaf on the idyllic Italian coast indulging in pastimes the children of the very rich indulge in. Greenleaf wants to be an artist, although he lacks talent. He’s in love — or maybe he isn’t — with a girl from Minnesota, Dakota Fanning’s Marge Sherwood, who’s in Italy trying to be a “writer”. She too lacks talent, but the two pursue their fantasies, living an exquisite life funded by Greenleaf’s father.
Greenleaf is delighted by the new distraction in the form of Ripley, though none of his friends are. As Ripley ingratiates himself into the group and is adopted by Greenleaf, the other sycophants seek to undermine his and Greenleaf’s connection, peeling back Ripley’s subterfuge one layer of public exposure at a time.
The dance between the characters is gripping. The cat-and-mouse nature of verbal parries and thrusts becomes part of the tension and charm of the series. Sherwood and a brilliant Eliot Sumner as Freddie Miles
— a friend of Greenleaf’s who seems to recall Ripley from a suspect past connection — acknowledge Ripley’s skill at concealment. They convey that they dislike and do not believe his explanations in their facial expressions and demeanour. Truth and lies are on a razor’s edge. With more time to develop character arcs, the series depicts the crumbling beauty of Italy, which seems to hint at the cancerous illusion of perfection. The uncovering of Ripley’s true self teeters in every frame.
In addition to shooting in black and white, Zaillian has taken another risk. He’s chosen to let tension build though without dragging out scenes. Each frame is required. There’s a particular sequence that involves the concealment of a body that’s shot almost without words and has you quivering in your seat, an expressive cat the only witness to a clumsy disposal of a corpse. It’s worth hitting the repeat button to take in the artistry.
Scott (the randy priest in Fleabag, and the star of All of Us Strangers) explains the approach: “We read a novel over a certain amount of time, which allows us to focus on a particular part of the story. Sometimes it’s about plot, sometimes about character and that’s enormously engaging for the audience. The series allows you to spend time with the characters and watch this man think and make mistakes. Readers have loved the character of Tom Ripley for decades. Words have become attached to him: psychopath, sociopath or serial killer. None of those things are of interest to me. Ripley is not a natural-born killer. He’s fallible. We see his mistakes happen in real time.”
When Scott, who’s Irish and blessed with innate charm, talks about Ripley, he uses his Christian name, Tom, demonstrating the intimacy between him and the character he played that clearly helped him to develop empathy for the impostor.
“The information that Tom gives off about himself isn’t necessarily reliable. It’s a bit like holding water. You can’t quite catch it,” he says.
“The appeal of Tom is that you don’t ‘other’ him. He’s a person ignored by society. He doesn’t have access to the beautiful things the other characters in the story do. When you ignore those people and they’re exposed to their exclusion, they become aware of a rage they have within them.”
He pauses, letting the words register. “There’ sa message that everybody is deserving of the beauty and art in the world. It’s not for a certain section of the community. It’s not just for the rich. There are talented people all over the world in developed countries and developing countries. We have to understand that the series is about class and money and morality and fairness.” Ripley is streaming on Netflix.