Deep down Andrew Scott’s Ripley is terrified, of course…waiting for the guillotine to drop. He wears a mostly blank face to protect himself, but who wouldn’t under these circumstances?
Because once Ripley embarks upon his elaborate deception (i.e., pretending to be Dickie Greenleaf) he knows he’ll be unmasked sooner or later.
Because in the world of 1961 photographic capture and proof are a common fact of life, and he knows that Marge Sherwood (Dakota Fanning) has a few snapshots of Dickie Greenleaf (Johnny Flynn) lying around her Atrani cottage.
Plus any fan of detective stories knows that sooner or later Inspector Ravini (Maurizio Lombardi) is going to have a major brainstorm by (a) asking Marge for Dickie snaps and (b) asking Dickie’s father to mail a photo or two, and (c) searching for photos taken of Dickie in college and (d) asking the U.S. passport agency to send a copy of Dickie’s passport photo.
Not to mention the eventual publication of Marge’s Atrani book, which Ripley knows from the get-go is going to be half photos and is sure to include a shot or two of Dickie.
The fact that Ravini doesn’t start hunting around for Dickie photos immediately upon beginning his investigation of Freddy Miles’ death…this is a King Kong-sized plotting problem.
Director Steven Zallian’s solution, of course, is to simply ignore it. He just turns off the 1961 reality light switch and calmly maintains that despite the calendar year photos are an exotic invention that average people doesn’t have access to…despite the fact that 60-odd years ago nearly every inhabitant of western civilization owned a Kodak Instamatic or an 8 mm movie camera (or had parents or rich uncles who did) and that snapshots of everyone and everything were fairly ubiquitous.
I watched episode #8 of Ripley last night, and the final few minutes are an obvious set-up for another eight episodes down the road. They’re certainly not an “ending.”
John Malkovich’s performance as the deliciously perverse Reeves Minot is a blessing.
