Ripley: Believe Him or Not

A few months back, following the death of Alain Delon, I watched the 1960 French thriller, Purple Noon, which helped launch Delon’s career as a screen idol. It was a colorful flick about deception and mayhem, and boasted not one but two impressive twists at the end. It wasn’t until recently that I learned that this film was based on Patricia Highsmith’s 1955 The Talented Mr. Ripley, the first in a string of five novels featuring a young American who’s adept at impersonating others, for his own personal gain. Much more recently, Netflix showcased Ripley, a eight-part miniseries based on Highsmith’s first Ripley novel. I watched the critically acclaimed series from start to finish, thrilling to its take on the Ripley character and on its spectacularly detailed black-and-white cinematography.

Though the Texas-born Highsmith spent her adult life in Europe, her story has always had an All-American hustler at its center, and of course Hollywood eventually provided us with an American take on her plot. The 1999 film written and directed by Anthony Minghella (known for his Oscar-winning The English Patient) starred a  youthful Matt Damon in the title role. Key supporting parts were played by Gwyneth Paltrow, Philip Seymour Hoffman, and Cate Blanchett, with a very young Jude Law in the key supporting role of the wealthy, feckless Dickie, Ripley’s first victim. (It won him an Oscar nomination as Best Supporting Actor.)

Though I confess I’ve never read the novel that started it all,  the contrast between the various screen versions has been fascinating. The French-language film much admired by Highsmith stands out for its gorgeous leading man, its spectacular Italian locales, and some nifty surprises that make a sequel unlikely. The TV miniseries apparently sticks far closer to the mood and plot of the original. I was fascinated by Andrew Scott’s playing of Ripley not as a charismatic rogue but as a sort of nonentity, a quiet con artist who succeeds because he seems to blend in everywhere he goes, with no one quite able to spot the fact that he’s dangerous. A snake in the grass, without question. 

Then there’s Minghella’s Hollywood version. The leading role is played by Matt Damon, clearly chosen in part for the youthful innocence of his looks. (I’ve read that Leonardo di Caprio was an earlier choice for the part.) Whereas the Tom Ripley of the TV miniseries is an experienced grifter, bilking the unwary whose medical bills he’s stolen, Damon’s Tom starts out looking like a clean-cut young man, a pianist sensitively accompanying a classical singer at a house concert. He doesn’t seem to be on the make until opportunity suddenly drops into his lap, giving him a trip from NYC to an Italian beach resort to persuade the scion of a wealthy American family to quit loafing around and come home. 

Damon’s Tom Ripley and Jude Law’s Dickie Greenleaf quickly bond over a passion for jazz. (The role of music in the film is an effective change from the miniseries, in which Dickie—though by no means talented—aspires to a career as an artist and Tom claims to share his interest in Caravaggio.)  As we see from the start, Damon’s Tom really does love music . . . and quickly comes to love the handsome, mercurial Dickie. Every bad thing his Tom does seems almost accidental; his most dastardly deeds stem from spur-of-the-moment decisions made in time of crisis. He’s played, in a low-key way, as a closeted homosexual, one whose self-loathing leads him in dangerous directions. We’re supposed to end up feeling sorry for the guy. I ask you: what’s the fun in that?

 

The Colorful Drama of Purple Noon

The recent passing of French leading man Alain Delon called my attention to the fact that, at the start of a long career, he first hit it big in René Clément’s 1960 thriller, Plein Soleil, known to American moviegoers as Purple Noon. I never saw this film until recently, but its title instantly had meaning for me. Back when I was in high school, my French teacher handed out extra credit for various experiences involving the French language. If you dined at a local French restaurant and swore that you’d spoke en français to the waiter, you got points. (This proved very popular with my family, all of whom loved the opportunity to further my scholastic career by dining out.) You also got points for attending a French-language film and trying hard not to read the subtitles. Most of us kids, thoroughly brainwashed by Hollywood, had no interest in checking out a film in French. And our teacher, in recommending Purple Noon (then playing at a local art house), said nothing to convince us that we’d actually find this film entertaining. As a consequence, I missed out on more extra credit, as well as a chance to see a really fascinating cinematic game of cat-and-mouse.

 Purple Noon (certainly a garish title) turns out to be the first screen adaptation of Patricia Highsmith’s famous 1955 thriller, The Talented Mr. Ripley. Forty-four years later, Anthony Minghella wrote and directed a much more complicated English-language version. It starred a young Matt Damon and featured such rising talents as Gwyneth Paltrow, Jude Law, Cate Blanchett, and Philip Seymour Hoffman in a tale of a young man who’ll go to any lengths (including bloody ones) to achieve the lifestyle he feels he deserves. Highsmith herself strongly preferred Delon’s take on Tom Ripley, which relies less on pathos and more on the audience’s ability to identify with a young man whose creative improvisations help him get what he wants out of life.

 It's been pointed out that Ripley’s story goes well into film noir territory, but shifts the formula by being shot in brilliant color in some of the world’s most beautifully sunlit places. Much of the action of Purple Noon takes place on a gorgeous yacht off the coast of Italy. That’s where a feckless, and very wealthy, young San Franciscan named Philippe Greenleaf sets out on a cruise along with his fiancée, Marge, and his amusing new buddy, Tom Ripley. Philippe is not a very gracious host, especially after he discovers Tom trying on his clothes. What happens between them sets the stage for a series of deceptions in which Tom, back on shore, creatively pretends (with the help of a portable typewriter and some glue) that Philippe is alive and well, happily ensconced at a local hostelry. His on-and-off masquerade as Philippe leads to additional mayhem, as well as to his passionate wooing of Marge, for reasons that eventually become all too plain.

 It's curious (and perhaps disturbing) that author Highsmith, who spent most of her adult years in Europe, imagined Tom Ripley as a born-and-bred American. Her multiple follow-up novels to The Talented Mr. Ripley have led to several additional films as well as a 2024 Netflix miniseries. Obviously, this is a young man whose exploits we love to follow, even if we don’t consider him a model of wholesome behavior. The French version, Purple Noon, largely sidesteps the novel’s obvious homoerotic subtext: what else would you expect in 1960? Still, this is a marvelous intro to a sinister but fascinating world. Too bad it’s too late for me to get extra credit.