Anthony Minghella’s thriller makes envy painfully understandable, with Matt Damon and Jude Law giving its social discomfort real force. The leisurely pace is a drawback, but the performances make the time worthwhile.
Anthony Minghella’s The Talented Mr. Ripley is a persuasive, unsettling thriller about the effort of making other people like us. We recommend it, with a reservation about how long Minghella spends arranging the complications. Adapting Patricia Highsmith’s novel, he takes Tom’s longing seriously enough to make it uncomfortable, and gives Matt Damon room to show the labour involved. The film pays close attention to the class distinctions that make Tom feel unequal to Dickie Greenleaf.
Damon’s performance is strongest when Tom is trying to be agreeable. His nervousness makes approval seem necessary, and the effort to appear relaxed beside Jude Law’s Dickie becomes distressingly clear. We felt embarrassed for him, because Damon makes Tom’s attempts to fit in look so exposed. Law is crucial to that response: his ease gives Damon something specific to strain against, and he makes Dickie’s appeal entirely credible. Their performances explain why Tom finds this company so difficult to resist.
The supporting cast gives us other people worth watching closely. Gwyneth Paltrow gives Marge Sherwood enough weight that we remain interested in her while watching Tom, rather than treating her as an interruption. Philip Seymour Hoffman makes Freddie Miles’s perceptiveness so unpleasant that we resent him for noticing what we have noticed ourselves. Hoffman is especially effective because he makes Freddie’s sharpness feel habitual, with no need to announce that this is someone Tom should worry about.
The warmth of John Seale’s cinematography makes Dickie’s life look inviting while keeping Damon’s discomfort legible. We can understand the temptation simply by looking, which matters in a film that spends so much time on envy. Roy Walker’s production design makes affluence feel ordinary to the people enjoying it. Those surroundings help explain why Tom is so susceptible. The luxury remains useful to the drama because Damon never lets us forget the effort of trying to belong there.
Walter Murch’s editing gives the performances time to register, particularly the differences between Tom’s self-consciousness and Dickie’s assurance. It is a sound choice for the character study, though it does not keep the 140 minutes from feeling extended. Gabriel Yared’s music encourages sympathy for Tom, giving his wanting a sadness that Damon often makes awkward to acknowledge. It helps us take that need for affection seriously, which is important to Minghella’s treatment of the character.
The principal weakness is how much complication Minghella’s screenplay puts around such a clear central relationship. The plotting becomes less involving as it demands more attention, and the pace suffers when we are ready for it to tighten. Minghella sometimes keeps explaining people after the actors have made them comprehensible. A thriller can afford to move slowly when the company is this interesting, but there are stretches where we feel the length without learning much more about anyone.
Minghella’s sympathy for Tom is a substantial choice, and we think it pays off. Damon makes the need to be liked credible without making Tom reassuring company, and the film’s interest in that need survives its overextended plotting. Choose it when there is time to watch people watching one another, rather than when the evening needs something brisk.
