Word: likelies
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...insistent upon bringing us Italy in ravishing color. A spoonful of Italian sugar makes the thriller go down so easy that one wonders whether the ghost of Federico Fellini wasn't smiling on this one. Why not? Thomas Ripley isn't really all that different from Fellini's heroines: like, say, Giulietta Masina in Nights of Cabiria. They are just two lost idealists looking up at the beautiful world they can't quite enter themselves. But while Masina laughs, Ripley rends. The difference is heartbreaking...
...under false pretenses and insinuates himself into the wealthy life of prodigal Dickie "Ouch!" Greenleaf (Jude Law). Dickie's not always as naughty as the name suggests, but sometimes he's far worse. Jude Law is the consummate self-involved prick; he's best when playing dissipated rich boys like the wheelchair-bound himbo in Gattaca, men who would loathe themselves if they would take the time to bother...
...role of Dickie Greenleaf lets Law be charming and cruel: he wears the part like a fine, sleek suit, just crumpled enough to seem lived-in. Even in one of those absurd '50s hats that wanna-beatniks had to sport, Law comes across as a little bit perfect, and a little bit vile. You can see why Tom gets all hot around the collar for Dickie's lifestyle, even if it comes with Gwyneth Paltrow as an accessory too sweetie-pie elegant for its own good. Of course, Mr. Ripley doesn't last too long as Dickie...
...than he seems, especially when he realizes that he's suddenly living the life he always wanted. Highsmith's book keeps the audience engaged just by introducing clearheaded, elegant Tom Ripley. He's fascinating because we know what he's capable of, which is just about anything. He's like Hannibal Lecter minus all that nonsense about fava beans and a nice chianti. But the movie takes the story in an entirely different direction simply by a shift of emphasis. Where Highsmith's 1950's novel barely dares to hint at any latent homoeroticism, the movie explicitly exposes Thomas Ripley...
...weren't such a smart writer and director, the changed emphasis might have obscured the icy brilliance of Tom's amoral talents. But Minghella knows a good story when he sees one--his last triumph was the sweeping, stony The English Patient-- and he treats Tom Ripley's tale like David Lean on an epic bender. The thriller story becomes woven into a gorgeous, glorious travelogue through the high points of Italian sightseeing, circa 1957. And, I'll admit, I'm a sucker for a pretty shot of Roman sunlight...