The Talented Mr. Ripley
As fictional antiheroes go, Patricia Highsmith’s deliciously amoral Tom Ripley is simply irresistible.
First crushing on, then crushing, sneering dilettante Dickie Greenleaf, Ripley casually assumes his identity (and careless wealth). We should be repulsed by such a repugnant character. Instead, we mentally egg him on. Why? A lot of his inexplicable appeal has to do with class. When we first meet Ripley in Highsmith’s 1955 novel, he’s cruising seedy New York bars, on the lam from cops and debtors pursuing him for petty theft and fraud charges. A man down on his luck, we understand his hustle.
Jumping at shadows, the appearance of an impeccably dressed Greenleaf senior, Herbert, startles Ripley. Is the older man an unusually well-dressed detective, or even, *gasp*, a “pervert”?
Crashing through the class barrier, Ripley seizes on Herbert’s presumptuous approach with an offer too good to resist: an impossibly well-paid gig, tasked with retrieving Herbert’s recalcitrant son from fictional Italian beach town, Mongibello
How could Ripley say no? Once there, how could he let go? A provocation to seize a world well beyond his means. Better the devil we know, we’re on Ripley’s side as he claims his slice of this indulgent life from mean-spirited one percenters. After all, Highsmith borrows Mongibello from the Italian for active volcano Mount Etna, and Ripley’s here to blow shit up.
Who’s involved in this latest adaptation of The Talented Mr. Ripley?
The suspenseful, smoky...