Beautiful Black and White Vistas Can’t Save Netflix’s Tedious Ripley Adaptation

Ever since Martin Scorsese accidentally opened a multi-front war with an offhand comment about Marvel movies not being cinema, it feels like online discourse about film has become even more grating than usual. One particularly painful subgenre is when TikTokers construct elaborate strawmen as a stand-in for “pretentious” movies, talking about how cinephiles only enjoy black and white, Soviet-era silent films about a fly sifting through garbage or something. A major target here seems to be “slow cinema,” a loose collection of movies defined by methodical pacing, such as the work of Tarkovsky, Bresson, or Dreyer. While these films certainly aren’t for everyone, if you go in with an open mind, they can hit deep, using striking imagery and an obsession with tiny details to build toward broader truths.

I bring all of this up because Netflix’s adaptation of the 1955 novel The Talented Mr. Ripley (simply titled Ripley, in this case), a laborious eight-episode miniseries that takes forever to go nowhere, feels like the mocking TikTok version of slow cinema brought to life. While it features some stunning shots that wring chiaroscuro out of ancient Italian archways or that create tension as a detective closes the noose around a suspect, for the most part, the series is unable to generate thrills, settling into a lethargic rhythm as its titular character bumbles around. Its glacial pacing doesn’t establish ambiance or pave the way for interesting ideas, and these decadent compositions are undermined by a script that is as empty as its protagonist’s vacuous smile. It’s slow, but less because it’s working towards transcendental revelations and more because it has to pad out this retelling of a short book into a TV series with hour-long episodes.

For those unaware, The Talented Mr. Ripley has already been brought to the screen several times, such as in the 1960 film Purple Noon and the ’95 movie starring Matt Damon, Jude Law, and Gwyneth Paltrow. Many of the details are the same in this latest adaptation. We follow Thomas Ripley (Andrew Scott), a down-on-his-luck conman paid to bring a wealthy businessman’s son, Dickie (Johnny Flynn), back home from his hiding place in Italy. Ripley jumps on the opportunity, traveling across the globe where he meets Dickie and his girlfriend Marge (Dakota Fanning), and the three strike up an uneasy relationship. At first, our swindler finds his new living situation quite agreeable, but the good times living off Dickie’s fortune can’t last forever. As the situation breaks down, Ripley hatches up a plan with deadly consequences, envisioning a future where he takes on the other man’s identity and riches.

If one element of Ripley has turned heads since its initial announcement trailer, it is the lavish black and white cinematography, and thankfully, this lives up to expectations with eerie monochromatic visuals that perfectly complement both the subject matter and the ‘60s setting. Robert Elswit, who won an Oscar for his work on There Will Be Blood, wrings out particular details from these backdrops, such as Ripley’s tiny, grim New York City apartment, a prison he understandably wants to escape from, or salt-water-speckled Mediterranean shores that make way for gray clouds and violent tides that suggest something horrible is brewing. All in all, the best characters are the locales, and the highlight is Atrani, a village carved into the cliff-sides of the Amalfi Coast. Its countless stairs, cavernous passages, and surrounding swirling sea so intensely contrast with the series’ claustrophobic version of New York that it becomes clear why our protagonist becomes enamored with this place and the lifestyle that comes with it.

Unfortunately, no matter how impressive these compositions are, they can’t make up for soul-shattering pacing that is far more languid than contemplative. At times, it feels as though the series fell from an alternate universe where the French New Wave never happened, leaving us with classic Hollywood-styled continuity editing where every detail about how a character moves from one place to the next is depicted, a tendency made downright torturous by the sheer runtime of this thing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a television show where a man checks into so many hotels, an endless vacation from hell filled with signatures, office clerks searching through log books, and jingling keys being handed over from behind the counter.

Sometimes, visual comedy pokes fun at the tedium, like when Ripley first arrives in Atrani and battles its unending staircases, but at a certain point, I became more concerned about accidentally dozing off than whatever trials our central grifter was facing. Much has been made about how many modern TV shows feel like poorly cut, 8-hour-long movies, and Ripley is the latest example of this trend. And it feels particularly flagrant here because this 250-page novel has already been adapted into multiple films that come in at under two and a half hours.

Perhaps the simplest explanation for why this series falls flat compared to more moving examples of slow-paced filmmaking is that Mr. Ripley’s journey never comes across as particularly profound. As a character in the story points out, our protagonist feels “vague,” a grinning face of soulless Americana who doesn’t leave nearly as much an impact as he should. It becomes clear early on that he’s a sociopath who will tell any lie or perform any deed to achieve his ends, but this lack of moral scruples doesn’t come across as particularly unsettling; it’s just dull.

I wouldn’t go as far as to say that this is entirely actor Andrew Scott’s fault but more an issue with showrunner Steven Zaillian’s tiresome direction, which is obsessed with extraneous minutiae instead of delving deeper into what makes this man tick. Throughout, there are attempts to link him and his actions to the Baroque-era painter Caravaggio, but this breaks down when someone literally explains the thematic parallels between the two out loud, ruining the entire purpose of this type of methodical visual storytelling. Instead of peeling back layers of Ripley’s dark psychology, he never develops into a compelling figure in his own right because it’s always perfectly clear he’s a monster, and his horrible actions are presented so matter-of-factly they don’t come across as particularly shocking.

Because of this, the story is at its best when it’s less squarely focused on its leading man, such as when Ripley spends with Dickie and Marge, the uneasy relationship between the three setting up many painful social situations. Dakota Fanning’s perpetually skeptical Marge contrasts excellently with Johnny Flynn’s naivety and subtle insecurity as Dickie, Ripley taking turns whispering into each of their ears to tip things in his favor. It’s awkward, tense, and makes the best use of this one’s leisurely sensibilities. Sadly, this delicious passive aggression eventually gives way to outright violence, a mode the series is far less adept at handling.

Despite being about murder, fraud, intrigue, and police investigations, the show is mostly devoid of excitement or the devilish satisfaction that comes with watching a hyper-competent villain protagonist outsmart his adversaries. It seems that when naming this one, they didn’t only remove the “Talented” from its title for brevity and marketing purposes, but to reflect how this version of the character is intensely fallible. If you’re like me, you’ll be squinting at your television set and asking yourself, “What’s this guy’s deal?” as Ripley seemingly backs himself into a corner or does something impulsive and self-destructive for the umpteenth time, only to be bailed out by a combination of plot armor and incompetent adversaries.

For instance, when an inspector from Rome picks up the trail on his misdeeds, this battle of “wits” feels less like a chess match played by grandmasters and more like a game of checkers played by toddlers liable to swallow their own pieces. Every once in a while, Ripley’s sloppiness can lead to moments of genuine tension, such as after the police just barely miss an incriminating bloodstain, or we cut to a clue that Holmes or Poirot would sniff out with ease, but these moments are too few and far between, drowned out by repetitive scenes where little happens.

Ultimately, Ripley is less than the sum of its parts. On the one hand, it features impressive black and white filmmaking that places us in these backdrops so vividly that we can almost taste the sea air. The camera creates moments of genuine intrigue, and the shifting relationships between this nightmarish throuple is hard to look away from. However, these highs are the exception, not the rule. Much like its bland protagonist, this series feels vague, unsure if it wants to be a thrilling caper, thoughtful tone piece, or something else entirely. As the credits rolled, I wasn’t greeted with a satisfying come-down following a riveting game of cat and mouse, but a sense of relief that I wouldn’t need to watch more footage of people slowly scaling staircases to nowhere.

Ripley is now streaming on Netflix. 

Elijah Gonzalez is an assistant Games and TV Editor for Paste Magazine. In addition to playing and watching the latest on the small screen, he also loves film, creating large lists of media he’ll probably never actually get to, and dreaming of the day he finally gets through all the Like a Dragon games. You can follow him on Twitter @eli_gonzalez11.

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