A friend of mine asked me what my novel will be about, over the weekend. It’ll be about a lonely man in exotic climes, I said. He’ll be at a loss. He’ll have to make some hard choices. In the end, he might resolve things. But will he ever, in his heart? Do any of us, in any final accounting? I don’t believe so. We’re all balance sheets in need of reconciliation. It’s what makes us human.
I chuckle because the plot and themes are hardly original. They summarize most of what my favorite authors wrote between 1950 and 1995. If only I could get around to starting my novel, I’m sure it would be diverting. But thank God, that’s not what this is about.
It’s also the abridged summary of The Talented Mr. Ripley by Patricia Highsmith. Although Ripley’s loneliness and lostness extend to sociopathy. The hardest choices he makes are about who to kill so he can evade detection or consequences. I read a few of Highsmith’s Ripley books last year.
“The shocking thing is they portray a semi-sympathetic character getting away with murder,” was the recommendation of a friend that piqued my interest. I’d seen the 1999 film starring Matt Damon and Jude Law and thought, why not?
The first book was better than the movie. The later novels were not. I suspect Highsmith was paying off her bar bills and grew to resent churning out more books. But with such a compelling lead character, she became beholden to him. It must have felt awful, the public clamoring for more of her bad fictional seed.
Now there’s a new version of the Ripley story. It’s shot in black and white, which is daring for Netflix, albeit by the guy who won an Oscar for shooting There Will Be Blood. It features a strong actor, Andrew Scott, playing Ripley, and it’s been getting rave reviews.
Thank God for some well-made adult television to divert us for a bit. That’s my verdict. I’ll rewatch my favorite shows on repeat (seen The Night Manager a dozen times, anyone?) and I can add this to the rotation now.
As a character, I find Ripley fascinating. Not because we’re all secret sociopaths. But because we all face moments in our lives when we get to choose how best to present ourselves. It’s particularly true when you’re papering over trauma. There are choices to make in such moments. Some involve omission. Some are edgier. Ripley always makes the most extreme version of the wrong choice. But for a moment you make it with him, and you’re thrust out on a limb, treading water in mid-air. It feels like being Wile-E-Coyote, suspended against the laws of physics off the edge of a cliff. Wondering how you got here before you drop down to earth.
Whomp.
The feeling is compelling and mesmerizing and gritty and awful simultaneously and watching this television show makes you drunk with it. Ha!
When it comes to presenting a version of ourselves in the world, we rarely choose desperation. We rarely choose fear or failure or weakness. Patricia Highsmith chose a retreat into alcohol. I can read the temptations to drink in her protagonist’s floundering with reality. Yet we all contend with such things, in our darkest moments. To err is human, after all. Whatever form it takes.
Dictators present themselves as strong and successful all the time. The rest of us get to laugh at ourselves if we’re lucky and admit to the occasional weakness. What’s so compelling about Andrew Scott’s portrayal of Tom Ripley is the struggle. He shows his character trying to appear strong, and yet, being weak, needy, and restless. It’s the inner tightrope we all walk. Except it’s externalized and writ large, not subsumed beneath the surface or diluted by alcohol. It’s darkly compelling art and addictive viewing. I feel sorry for everyone as I watch it. At the same time, I feel empathy and hope for all of us as we navigate these challenges in our daily lives.
—Matt Davis is a communications consultant and writer for a wide variety of clients. He also teaches yoga and lives with his wife and son in New York.
