“His stories were good because he imagined them intensely, so intensely that he came to believe them”

Patricia Highsmith, The Talented Mr Ripley

Patricia Highsmith occupies quite a peculiar place in the history of English literature – her works are embraced as wildly entertaining and genuinely daring pieces of writing, with stories that strike a raw nerve with anyone who reads them, which has led to them being adapted to the screen in various forms, catching the attention of many tremendous filmmakers – what other writers can claim to have been adapted by the likes of Alfred Hitchcock and Todd Haynes? Yet, she is not nearly as celebrated as she ought to have been in her lifetime, and it was mainly in later years that she was elevated from the position of someone who wrote novels that were only a few degrees above pulp fiction, and instead are now considered exceptional pieces of literature. Her greatest creation, and perhaps the one she is going to be remembered for the most, is the character of Tom Ripley, the manipulative and deeply malicious psychopath who appeared in a number of her novels, making his debut in The Talented Mr Ripley, which is also coincidentally the novel of hers that has been adapted the most, including a well-received film by Anthony Minghella that is considered one of the greatest in the English language and one that is continuously discovered and discussed. This lengthy preamble is not only a chance to celebrate Highsmith and her legacy, but also to introduce the newest adaptation of her work, the exceptional Ripley, in which writer and director Steven Zaillian endeavoured to once again venture into Ripley’s world in the form of an eight-part limited series, making by far the most thorough and detailed adaptation of Highsmith’s novel to date. Primarily based on The Talented Mr Ripley, but making a few key changes that bring in elements of later works featuring the character, the series is a fascinating and brilliant voyage into the 1950s as the author saw them, beautifully crafted by an industry veteran whose reverence for this material intermingles with his steadfast artistic vision, creating a truly unforgettable and profoundly captivating psychological thriller that is perhaps the best adaptation of Highsmith’s work to date, a statement that may seem hyperbolic, but warrants such a bold assertion, considering just how far this project is willing to take this material and unearth the secrets lingering beneath the surface.

The opening quote to this review is taken directly from Highsmith’s novel, and it is one of the many passages that allow us to understand, at least partially, who the protagonist is and what his intentions are, something that is at the heart of every attempt to adapt her challenging and engaging novels, particularly the ones featuring this character. At a cursory glance, Zaillian doesn’t seem like the most logical choice to helm an adaptation of Highsmith’s novel, primarily because (despite having directed a few features), he is more of a screenwriter who collaborates with various directors to help them bring their vision to life, rather than being an auteur himself. Yet, if we look at the subjects that recur throughout his work, it’s clear to see precisely why he would be drawn to this material. As a character, Tom Ripley is fascinating beyond any description – he is immoral but yet always finds a motivation for his misdeeds that we may not be able to agree with but will always admire for the sheer audacity, and his growth throughout the first novel alone is a masterful example of character development, particularly in how he transitions from idealistic petty criminal to a maniacal psychopath that will end the life of someone he cares about with very little reluctance, and it is all shown through his perspective, which is what makes it so entirely disconcerting and disturbing. The story has been adapted several times, but being given essentially eight hours allowed the director the chance to dig deeper than anyone who previously tackled this challenging novel and the protagonist, and the result is absolutely incredible, an engaging and thorough existential odyssey into the mind of a truly demented individual whose gumption and ambition we can’t help but find truly captivating. Ripley is perhaps the most faithful adaptation of the novel to date, purely because Zaillian is willing to take the time to explore it at length. This immediately separates it from other versions of the novel – suddenly, rather than a fast-paced, rapid-fire psychological thriller, it is a much more measured drama that takes its time in a way that will likely surprise those who are not familiar with the novel and the approach Highsmith takes to the material, and instead only aware of the structure of previous adaptations like The Talented Mr Ripley and Purple Noon, both of which are brilliant films, but starkly different to what Zaillian intended to do with this adaptation.

Zaillian’s vision is singular in its intention to separate Ripley from previous versions of the novel, solely because it is quite obvious that the current media landscape facilitates the automatic process of comparing one work with another, and when taking a novel that has already been adapted into a celebrated and well-regarded film by another filmmaker, the comparisons are not likely to veer in favour of the more recent adaptation, especially since there are criticisms that the industry is growing less original and attempts to adapt certain works from a contemporary perspective rarely feels necessary. Ripley immediately establishes that it isn’t at all trying to follow in the footsteps of Minghella’s film, but rather forms its engaging relationship with Highsmith’s novel. A lot of this has to do with the filmmaking itself. Outside of being much longer in a purely temporal sense, the series is filmed entirely in black-and-white, being one of the first American television shows to be produced in such a way in many years, with the most recent examples going back to the earlier days of television when colour was far less common. This was a deliberate choice – stylistically, Zaillian seemed to be crafting the series to be reminiscent of several previous works. The spectre of directors like Alfred Hitchcock and Otto Preminger linger over the series, particularly in evoking the era of classical film noir, which is captured in both the visual and narrative components of the series. Added onto this, the director also pays tribute to a very particular era of Italian cinema, with filmmaking like Roberto Rossellini and Vittorio de Sica being reflected in the most intricate details of the story – not to mention, the cinematography by Robert Elswit (who could even be considered as a co-author of this series, since his photography is equally as important to the narrative as the writing) capturing Italy in such beautiful, vibrant detail, these cities and towns rarely looking more stunning than they do here. These are elements that Zaillian himself brings to the production, which makes it an entirely unique approach to this material that immediately captures our attention and piques our curiosity in a way that is extremely exciting and quite unprecedented. The element of surprise is always valuable for a project such as this, and there isn’t a moment in Ripley where we are anything less than entirely entranced and entirely invested in the story and how it is brought to life on screen, being one of the most impeccably-produced series we’ve seen in quite some time.

In an era where many authors focused on clearly defining their characters, Highsmith was daring enough to create a protagonist who is entirely vague and whose personality is too ambigious to be understood in a particularly cohesive way. This meant that Tom Ripley is not a character that lends himself to a specific point of origin – we have the fundamental facts, such as his general age and where he comes from, but other than this, he is quite difficult to pin down. As a result, every interpretation of the character across each adaptation has been starkly different, which has allowed a range of great actors to turn in strong performances that feel bespoke to them, rather than following on from a previous version of the character. Andrew Scott is selected to bring Zaillian’s version of Ripley to the screen, and he is absolutely incredible. An actor who has been working laboriously for years and who has turned in multiple splendid performances, it feels like we are still only barely getting to know Scott and the breadth of his talents. Ripley is the closest we have gotten to his career-breakthrough performance as Moriarty in Sherlock, but yet seems even more sinister and unsettling, especially since he is the focus of this series, and it is his perspective that we see above all else. This is an astonishing performance from Scott, and efforts are made to tailor the role to him, including transforming Ripley from a naive, idealistic college-age student, to someone slightly older, a more grizzled and cynical career criminal who finds the opportunity to regain his youth in Italy, alongside the character of Dickie Greenleaf, brought to life by the exceptional Johnny Flynn, who is also slightly older than the character initially was written to be, but whose age is perfectly understandable when we see how he chooses to play the part through making use of some kind of arrested development. Ripley is a character-based narrative, and while Scott is absolutely exceptional, the supporting players are just as integral. Dakota Fanning, in one of her best performances in years, is wonderful as the perpetually frustrating Marge Sherwood and Maurizio Lombardi proves to be exceptional as the dedicated detective tasked with investigating a murder committed by Ripley and who unravels a sinister conspiracy in the process. Appearances from the likes of Kenneth Lonergan, Margherita Buy and John Malkovich (who has previously played Ripley) add nuance to this layered narrative and make this series even more fascinating as a result of the exceptional work being done by the actors.

Yet, beneath all the period-specific splendour and fascinating, genre-based thrills, there is a gravity to Ripley that makes it far more than just an effort on the part of the director to adapt a novel he adores. Instead, the series is oddly quite timely – Zaillian doesn’t dare attempt to contemporize the material (which would be possible, but at the expense of changing a lot of specific details in the story, making it both artistically and logically challenging to do), but rather focuses on infusing it with theoretical concepts that are very much in line with a lot of modern ideas. The philosophy of this narrative is not clear at the start – the entire purpose of Ripley as a character is that his motivations are always very vague and we begin to wonder whether he commits these heinous crimes solely because he extracts pleasure out of being a psychopath – but gradually, we find that Ripley peels away the layers of this character, and prevents us with quite an unconventional protagonist, a man whose ability to morph into other people is incredible, a skill that could serve him well in a more responsible position, but which he chooses to use for malice, which is the great irony of the story, since he could have made far more of a fortune by playing by the rules and putting these skills to good use, rather than satiating his psychopathic urges. Greed and the lust for power are central themes to the novel, and Zaillian emphasizes them, as well as the underlying queer reading that may have been more prominent in previous adaptations but is still a major factor in this series, albeit in a far more sinister, almost terrifying manner. The series is never entirely defined by the period in which it takes place (even though it is gorgeous), and it uses its time to emphasize the central themes of Highsmith’s text, which are not exclusive to the milieux of the film but rather touch on universal experiences, such as greed, compulsive desire and the lust for influence that can sometimes derail and disfigure the human condition to the point where it is barely recognizable. Sometimes, the most malicious villains are not those violent, misformed figures lurking in the shadows waiting to harm any unsuspecting victim, but rather the demure, charming intellectual smiling at you from across the drawing room, an unsettling concept that this film brilliantly captures in vivid detail.

Ripley feels like a major achievement, albeit the kind that doesn’t seem to have elements that are easily translated into mere words. There’s something about the balance of the tone and images alongside the narrative that strikes us as quite peculiar, and almost otherworldly in their function, which is quite a departure from the gritty style of Highsmith’s original novel, which is a masterpiece of character development and the foundation for a lot of the very bold ideas that populate this series. Ripley is a lot more cynical and somehow deeply unnerving in a way that is sometimes quite provocative – the lack of colour not only allows for the underlying feeling of danger lurking in the shadows but emphasizes the bleakness of this story, which is essentially a tale of someone managing to get away with a number of murders and fraudulent activities that would otherwise be easily discovered had the person in question not been far more intelligent than the people pursuing him. The idea of the intellectual psychopath is an intriguing one, and something that the director intends to showcase throughout this engaging adaptation of Highsmith’s work, which is brought to life with vigour and complexity, becoming truly enticing and quite seductive in how it offers us this disquieting existential odyssey into the mind of someone who uses his talents to take advantage of anyone who crosses his path, and who shows very little hesitation when it comes to committing heinous crimes for the sake of furthering his ambition. In an era where we are all encouraged to do whatever it takes to make a living under a brutal capitalistic system, we start to admire (although never once agree with) Ripley’s gumption, and his exploits, while violent and disconcerting, are wickedly entertaining and genuinely fascinating, proving not only the timeless nature of the original material, which has been so beautifully curated by Zaillian  and his cohorts in this production, but also the kinds of people that are represented in this novel, since Highsmith may have written a work of fiction, but its almost certain that there are people like Ripley that exist, and none of us can ever be entirely sure that we haven’t been a victim of their manipulation in some way or another, which is a terrifying and provocative concept that makes it fully clear why this story, as offbeat as it may be, has struck such a chord with audiences since the novel’s publication over half a century ago, and why it continues to be such a cherished work of literature.