Words by James Mahon
I’ve always been told that nuance is essential to any form of criticism. Any form of artistic endeavour is neither utterly terrible nor completely perfect. Steven Zallian’s Ripley (2024) would seem to counter this aphorism, or at least provide an exception that confirms the general rule. There is no other means in which to describe Ripley, it is simply exquisite. On all dimensions – aesthetics, writing and acting – it is superb. Why it was made, considering the box office success of The Talented Mr Ripley (Anthony Minghella, 1999), God only knows. But, we as audiences, must be eternally grateful to whatever studio executive gave it the green light.
While Andrew Scott has deservedly received all the plaudits for his performance as Tom Ripley, it is the style of the series that is mesmerising. More specifically the decision to shoot entirely in black and white. Contrasting with the ostentatious colour saturation of Minghella’s 1999 version, Ripley is a cinematic throwback to a bygone age. While some have framed this as a deliberate nod to the classic sparse hue of American noir, such as The Big Sleep (Howard Hawks, 1946), for me, the very opposite is true. The monochrome of Ripley is more reminiscent of the opulent decadence of Federico Fellini’s film-making, 8 ½ (1963) and La Dolce Vita (1960) being prime examples. Like Fellini, the conscious decision to shoot in black and white seems to paradoxically imbue the screen with a vivid lightness. I’m trying not to be too intellectually pretentious in articulating this, in more simple terms, it is just fucking cool. The shot of Johnny Flynn’s Dickie Greenleaf, smoking a cigarette on his villa’s veranda in the small Italian town of Antrani, entirely in greyscale, is reminiscent of Marcello Mastroianni in Fellini’s 8 ½ – the embodiment of natural, unfettered, suavity.
Of course, Zaillian’s directing plays a huge part in this. The slow-paced nature, particularly of the first two or three episodes, means you can really sit with the characters. In this respect, it is unfair to compare it with the 1999 film, as they did not have the luxury of eight hours of screen time to play with. Nevertheless, Zallian makes the most of it – wide-shots of Atrani, gorgeous café smoking sequences and lingering close-ups are ever-present. In another context, this would seem superfluous, yet it feels absolutely appropriate and necessary. Complimenting this is the script-writing. Having read the original novel by Patricia Highsmith, it is clear that Zaillian who wrote the script himself, tried to incorporate as much of Highsmith’s original words as possible. The end result being that, as in the novel, you feel a slight sense of psychological unease in watching the series. Not at Ripley’s actions per se, but rather the fact that you yourself can identify with them. It evokes a moral quandary – what Tom does is obviously abhorrent, but you feel that these people, who view their privilege as a God-given right, deserve it in some way.
It is Scott, though, who really elevates the whole enterprise. Matt Damon I felt was slightly miscast in the film version, he certainly possessed the fawning obsequiousness of Ripley, without the necessary coldness that Scott has in abundance. Scott, whilst also being reptilian at times, seems to humanise Ripley in others, a continual survivor irrespective of what comes his way. Flynn as Dickie is not as obviously beautiful as Jude Law in the same role, yet he brings more depth to the character – Dickie is more of a naïve and aimless young man than a free-spirited playboy. With regard to Marge and Freddie Miles, Dakota Fanning finds it hard to compete with the growing suspicion wonderfully conveyed by Gwyneth Paltrow. As for Eliot Summer, it is hardly fair to expect her to improve what was a film-stealing performance by Philip Seymour Hoffman. This is not to ignore the brilliantly, faintly self-ironic take by Maurizo Lombardi on the Italian detective investigating the case, nor the absolutely stunning cat acting that is displayed. Nonetheless, this is truly Scott’s show, he is front and centre of every scene and deservedly so.
Ripley is probably the best thing Netflix has created since Mindhunter. It is not surprising that the series was originally ordered by Showtime before being picked up by Netflix. It is a welcome change from the AI-like generated, and stultifying formulaic content, the streamer normally releases. I can only hope that it will continue in this vain, although I doubt it. Not to worry though. I will just rewatch Ripley for the fifth time.
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