«Ripley» - Series Review by Kinoafisha

You've probably heard of Tom Ripley— a young man as talented as he is dangerous. American writer Patricia Highsmith penned a novel about him in 1955, which eventually grew into a whole series and spawned a series of film adaptations. Among them are films by Wim Wenders, responsible for "The American Friend," and René Clément, who directed "Purple Noon"— an adaptation of the very first book in the series, "The Talented Mr. Ripley." Another version of the same story was presented in the late '90s by Anthony Minghella. In his warmly received "The Talented Mr. Ripley," starring Matt Damon, Jude Law, and Gwyneth Paltrow, the main roles seemed tailor-made for them. Clearly inspired by Ripley's story is the recent "Promising Young Woman," despite what its writer Emerald Fennell might say.

And now, over two decades later, Stephen Zaillian has taken on a new adaptation— the first time Tom Ripley is being portrayed in a serial format. Zaillian, the director and screenwriter who won an Oscar for his screenplay for "Schindler's List," enlisted another Academy Award winner— the regular cinematographer for Paul Thomas Anderson, Robert Elswit, with whom he had previously worked on the miniseries "The Night Of." Together they created a Ripley like never seen before.

Andrew Scott ("Sherlock," "Fleabag") takes on the lead role, significantly older than his character from the original novel. The Irish actor, though looking much younger, is already 47 years old, while in Highsmith's story, Ripley is only 25. Hence the weight and solidity of the character portrayed by Scott. He's not a playful youth taking his first steps in life, but a middle-aged man tired of a poor and dull existence, making a living from small scams, residing in a rusty furnished apartment somewhere on Bowery Street (its vices were documented by Lionel Rogosin in the 1956 documentary "On the Bowery").

Primarily, Tom forges checks and extorts money through deception— though, to be fair, we're talking about tiny sums— hourly fearing exposure. So when Herbert Greenleaf, the owner of a major shipbuilding company in New York, played by director and screenwriter Kenneth Lonergan ("Manchester by the Sea"), asks Ripley to find his son Richard (Johnny Flynn) in Italy, who's been lost in the dolce vita and fancies himself an artist, and convince him to come home, Tom agrees almost without hesitation. Here, for the first but not the last time, luck is on his side— a private detective hired by Greenleaf mistakenly takes him for Richard's friend.

By the way, in the series, the latter is significantly older than his literary counterpart. Flynn, slightly rumpled, has already passed his fourth decade, which gives his Richard traits of a mature and timid philistine.

Zaillian notably subdued the characters. Ripley, by his will, has lost his strange charm, a mix of shyness and lively acting talent, which serves him well in manipulating people. In the series, he's dull and colorless from the start, like an old dying candle (though that makes his transformation more interesting to observe). Dickie, from a jovial, devilishly charming, and mischievous young man, has turned into an inert and boring everyman. Margery Sherwood (Dakota Fanning), Richard's girlfriend, who lives with him in a small town near Naples, has lost the few colors that Highsmith endowed her with, and boldly holds the title of the most dismal character in the series.

As a result, their relationship dynamics seem slowed down, echoing the leisurely waves beating against the shore. Ripley becomes engrossed in Dickie and Marge's carefree life, and when he feels he's about to lose it, he resorts to desperate measures, but remains enigmatic. By taking Dickie's life, his name, belongings, boat, paintings, and most importantly— his money, Tom remains a mystery. His motives and feelings, except the most superficial ones, are unclear. Scott's portrayal of Ripley initially seems devoid of nuances. He acts instinctively and extremely clumsily.

This is another innovation from Zaillian. Like Dickie, who paints derivative pictures, and Marge, who can't finish her guidebook on Atrani, Tom doesn't succeed in his work, and each new murder turns into an almost farcical act with excellent gallows humor (one scene even resembles "Weekend at Bernie's"). In other words, he's not that talented Mr. Ripley.

However, all of this only makes one pay closer attention to the brilliant black-and-white frames by Robert Elswit (it's a pity that TV series aren't nominated for Oscars), deftly maneuvering between light and shadow, and silver-gray grisaille. The desaturation of the world works wonderfully with the equally colorless characters, perfectly fitting into Italy's "great beauty"— its waters (a symbol crucial for Ripley, whose parents drowned) and the overwhelming fantasy of art, spying on the characters from everywhere. At least partly, it salvages the narrative, somewhat stagnating in the middle of the season. The central image of Tom, revealed towards the end, desperately lacks integrity. And Zaillian tries to compensate for it with a broad analogy, likening Ripley and his deeds to the story of Caravaggio— not only a genius artist but also a murderer (and does so straightforwardly).

But "Ripley" is rich in montage repetitions and biting jokes that unfold through them (as ironically bitter are the shots where Inspector Ravelli brushes ashes into the murder weapon). The characters traverse an apparently infinite number of stairs, squares, streets, alleys, pathways, hotel halls, the monotonous sameness of which breeds an unusual feeling of immersion into a dreamlike reality for TV series. A reality where the ambiguous phrase "The quick fox jumps over the lazy dog" doesn't seem so silly.