In Netflix's latest adaptation of Patricia Highsmith's classic viewers might find themselves both intrigued and perplexed. The show, a noir-esque rendition that certainly does justice to its visual aesthetics, unfortunately falters on more substantive grounds.
Firstly, the casting choices present a glaring issue. Andrew Scott, portraying Tom Ripley, is noticeably older than his literary counterpart, a discrepancy painfully obvious in the show's crisp black and white visuals. The original novel, along with the acclaimed 1999 film, depicts a youthful ensemble of characters in their mid-twenties. However, in this adaptation, while Freddie (played by the talented non-binary child of Sting, Eliot Sumner) skews younger, the rest, including Tom, are markedly older. This age gap is more than a superficial oversight; it fundamentally alters the dynamics and relatability of the characters.
Secondly, the series misses crucial plot elements that added depth to the original narrative. Both Highsmith's novel and the 1999 film subtly showcased Dickie Greenleaf as a charming yet fickle playboy, a detail that Marge Sherwood, his on-off love interest, is acutely aware of. This aspect of Dickie's character adds a layer of complexity to the storyline, especially during police investigations and Marge's reactions to Dickie's disappearance. Unfortunately, "Ripley" devotes considerable screen time to prolonged, albeit artistically shot, scenes, such as the one on the boat, at the expense of these crucial character dynamics. This narrative choice represents a missed opportunity to enrich the story with the original's subtleties.
Lastly, the show falters in its depiction of Tom Ripley's transformation. In the novel, Tom's obsession with Dickie manifests in a gradual assumption of his identity, mannerisms, and even physical appearance. This metamorphosis is central to the plot and Tom's psychological journey. The series, despite ample runtime across its eight episodes, fails to convincingly portray this transformation. While there are instances of Tom impersonating Dickie, the depiction lacks consistency and depth, particularly in visual cues like Tom's hairstyle, which remains static throughout the series.
Another notable issue is the series' altered and abrupt ending. Deviating from the original novel and film, this change diminishes the psychological complexity and moral ambiguity that are hallmarks of the Ripley narrative. The shortened conclusion leaves a sense of incompleteness due to the omission of the original's impactful closure.
While the series has its shortcomings, the acting prowess of the Italian talent cannot go unmentioned. Their performances add a layer of authenticity and vibrancy to the show, capturing the essence of Highsmith's world with remarkable depth and nuance. Their contributions stand as a highlight in the adaptation, infusing it with moments of genuine emotion and cultural richness.
In conclusion, while the series offers a unique take on the classic story, it's a take that, in many ways, strays too far from its roots, losing much of the original's charm and complexity in the process.
Firstly, the casting choices present a glaring issue. Andrew Scott, portraying Tom Ripley, is noticeably older than his literary counterpart, a discrepancy painfully obvious in the show's crisp black and white visuals. The original novel, along with the acclaimed 1999 film, depicts a youthful ensemble of characters in their mid-twenties. However, in this adaptation, while Freddie (played by the talented non-binary child of Sting, Eliot Sumner) skews younger, the rest, including Tom, are markedly older. This age gap is more than a superficial oversight; it fundamentally alters the dynamics and relatability of the characters.
Secondly, the series misses crucial plot elements that added depth to the original narrative. Both Highsmith's novel and the 1999 film subtly showcased Dickie Greenleaf as a charming yet fickle playboy, a detail that Marge Sherwood, his on-off love interest, is acutely aware of. This aspect of Dickie's character adds a layer of complexity to the storyline, especially during police investigations and Marge's reactions to Dickie's disappearance. Unfortunately, "Ripley" devotes considerable screen time to prolonged, albeit artistically shot, scenes, such as the one on the boat, at the expense of these crucial character dynamics. This narrative choice represents a missed opportunity to enrich the story with the original's subtleties.
Lastly, the show falters in its depiction of Tom Ripley's transformation. In the novel, Tom's obsession with Dickie manifests in a gradual assumption of his identity, mannerisms, and even physical appearance. This metamorphosis is central to the plot and Tom's psychological journey. The series, despite ample runtime across its eight episodes, fails to convincingly portray this transformation. While there are instances of Tom impersonating Dickie, the depiction lacks consistency and depth, particularly in visual cues like Tom's hairstyle, which remains static throughout the series.
Another notable issue is the series' altered and abrupt ending. Deviating from the original novel and film, this change diminishes the psychological complexity and moral ambiguity that are hallmarks of the Ripley narrative. The shortened conclusion leaves a sense of incompleteness due to the omission of the original's impactful closure.
While the series has its shortcomings, the acting prowess of the Italian talent cannot go unmentioned. Their performances add a layer of authenticity and vibrancy to the show, capturing the essence of Highsmith's world with remarkable depth and nuance. Their contributions stand as a highlight in the adaptation, infusing it with moments of genuine emotion and cultural richness.
In conclusion, while the series offers a unique take on the classic story, it's a take that, in many ways, strays too far from its roots, losing much of the original's charm and complexity in the process.