Welcome to the Weekend Snack - a quick roundup of my favorite bites from the past weekend.
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Happy Sunday, and happy Sephora sale to all those who celebrate! So much has happened since Wednesday. The original flight plans for Pete’s vacation in Florida were canceled due to torrential rain, an earthquake in New York grounded our rescheduled flight (it was minor but produced great content, my favorites here and here), and Isla Fisher announced her divorce from Sacha Baron Cohen using a tennis metaphor. That’s a lot to process in only a few short days. In the end, I made it to Florida, and the sunshine is working wonders for my general disposition. However, the lingering reminder that tonight is the series finale of Curb Your Enthusiasm has me mourning my favorite misanthrope. But today, we discuss a different misanthrope: author Patricia Highsmith and her famous character, Tom Ripley. So, let’s get to it!
**This discussion contains spoilers. The spoiler-free TL;DR: I love the Highsmith novel, the 1999 adaptation, and the new Netflix version. Each iteration contributes something different to the outsider infiltrating the upper-class story we’re obsessed with as a society. If you want a full Ripley binge, my suggested order is the 1999 film, the book, and finally, the Netflix TV adaptation. Happy Ripley-ing!**
📺 Ripley (TV). Until a few months ago, I hadn’t seen Anthony Minghella’s beloved 1999 adaptation of The Talented Mr. Ripley. Some movies just slip through the cracks! In anticipation of watching Saltburn (I like to do my homework), I felt it was only right that I rectified the gap in my film education. I was predictably mesmerized by the story of a murderous, lovelorn striver and the intoxicating imagery of a sun-soaked Italian summer with Matt Damon/Jude Law/Gwyneth Paltrow caught in a love triangle at the height of their youthful beauty. After finally understanding the Ripley hype, I was cautiously optimistic when I heard Andrew Scott would be starring in a new adaptation. I’ve spent the last four days in a Ripley trance, devouring all eight episodes of Ripley and reading the Highsmith novel. I have thoughts!
Let’s start with the original text. The Talented Mr. Ripley is the first in a series of novels about grifter and sociopath Tom Ripley. Our time with him begins in New York, where he’s a paranoid, low-level con artist unsuccessfully attempting insurance scams and fearing that he’s being followed. His luck begins to change when a wealthy shipping magnate seeks him out after mistakenly believing Tom is friends with his son, Richard “Dickie” Greenleaf. Dickie’s father offers to pay Tom a salary and cover his travel expenses if he helps bring the galavanting and financially reckless Dickie back from Italy. What ensues is violence, identity theft, and increasingly outlandish but successful misdirection. Despite knowing the general shape of the story (the Minghella adaptation deviates significantly from the book), I couldn’t put it down. Perhaps the biggest grift is that Highsmith’s matter-of-fact prose belies realism, making you suspend your disbelief around some of Tom’s most elaborate coverups while empathizing with a sociopath.
In the latest adaptation, Ripley is reimagined in black and white by writer and director Steven Zallian. His illustrious career includes writing Schindler’s List, Gangs of New York, Moneyball, and writing/directing the critically acclaimed mini-series Night Of. For Ripley, Zallian enlisted Academy Award-winning There WIll Be Blood cinematographer Robert Elswit to bring his film noir vision to life. This iteration stays more faithful to the novel than Minghella’s, with changes largely to make some of the book’s flourishes more believable (one example, the book ends with Ripley revealing a forged will to Dickie’s father, allowing Ripley to cash in on Dickie’s inheritance - the series does away with this). The pace is slow and maybe even tedious, but the tedium is calculated and lets you sit with the mundane realities of the violent crimes Tom commits rather than luxuriating in Italian summer. In contrast to the vibrant and lively Italy you’d expect, this iteration was shot during the pandemic and feels eerily isolating - appropriate for the loneliness core to Tom’s existence as a grifter. Andrew Scott seamlessly vacillates between Tom and Dickie, creepy and charming. I was so on edge that a train window washer gave me a jump scare. I won’t spoil it, but the last fifteen minutes of episode three are the most visually arresting images I’ve seen on television this year.
Since finishing Ripley, I’ve read reviews, and it’s fascinating to see how differing opinions can be - ranging from “it’s a masterpiece” to “it’s charmless” (and Andrew Scott is too old). It’s fitting that opinions are varied, as Tom Ripley, the character, is elusive and difficult to pin down. In reading the original text and watching two of the many adaptations (Purple Noon is the 1960 version that also adapts the first book, and there are other adaptations of the subsequent novels), I’m struck by the fact that both interpretations ring true. Matt Damon’s Tom Ripley is more driven by the desire to be liked. He’s in love with Jude Law’s Dickie, and Dickie’s lack of mutual feelings leads Tom to murder out of passion driven by unrequited longing and shame. More in line with the book, sexuality for Andrew Scott’s Tom is less overt. Though Marge tells Dickie she suspects Tom is gay, and Dickie explicitly tells Tom he’s not interested in him with a pointedness that confirms his prejudices, we aren’t expressly led to believe Tom had feelings for Dickie. Instead, he’s more attracted to Dickie’s possessions and the ease with which he moves through life. Tom is naturally gifted - he picks up Italian quickly, paints better than Dickie with little effort, and has a genuine love for art. But he’s not born into the same opportunities as Dickie, and isn’t afforded the luxury to shape his life without concern about money. Maybe a murder by a jilted paramour was easier to digest for 1999 audiences, but Scott’s Ripley is more calculating than brash and probably more accurate to Highsmith’s views of morality. But, in the end, both are compelling and believable interpretations.
One last comparison point: I was shocked by how different Gwyneth Paltrow’s Marge is from the book. In the book, Marge is described as “unsophisticated looking,” and her relationship with Dickie isn’t defined, but her feelings are stronger than his. She’s in Italy writing a novel, and it’s implied that Marge is talentless. If anything, she’s also sponging off Dickie, enjoying the benefits his lifestyle affords. When Dickie eventually goes missing, she’s worried but also revels in the press attention and her general importance to the case. All in all, she’s relatively unsympathetic. By contrast, Paltrow’s Marge is beautiful, fashionable, and welcoming. Though Dickie isn’t loyal to Marge, they’re engaged, and he’s outwardly expressive about his affection for her. While this interpretation allows for a much more compelling love triangle, Dakota Fanning’s Marge is more in line with Highsmith’s original characterization and begs the question, who isn’t benefiting from Dickie’s wealth?
Ultimately, I enjoyed my weekend with all the Ripleys and concluded that as much as we might like to choose a definitive interpretation, both are fabulous, and we’re spoiled for choice. Each shows the complexity of the character that Highsmith created and proves why The Talented Mr. Ripley inspired many subsequent literary and onscreen strivers. I’m curious to hear your thoughts. Let me know in the comments!
And I’ll leave you with this reimagining of a Pilates class as a horror film from SNL last night.
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Omg thanks for the reminder about the Sephora sale & you’ve convinced me to watch Ripley.
I wasn't going to watch Ripley, but what you wrote about the end of episode 3 really peaked my interest! PS...Re: Sacha and Isla's divorce - I ALSO thought the tennis metaphor was super weird!