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THE TALENTED MR. RIPLEY Screenplay By ANTHONY MINGHELLA Based On The Novel By PATRICIA HIGHSMITH 1st November 1999 1958 PROLOGUE: INT. RIPLEYS CABIN. EVENI
THE TALENTED MR. RIPLEY
Screenplay By
ANTHONY MINGHELLA
Based On The Novel By
PATRICIA HIGHSMITH
1st November 1999
1958
PROLOGUE: INT. RIPLEY'S CABIN. EVENING.
Fade up on Ripley, as in the final scene of the film,
sitting, desolate in a ship's cabin. The camera rotates
around his face, which begins in light and ends in darkness.
RIPLEY (O/S)
If I could just go back. If I could rub
everything out. Starting with myself.
Starting with borrowing a jacket.
EXT. CENTRAL PARK WEST TERRACE. EARLY EVENING.
Ripley is at the piano, accompanying FRAN, a young soprano.
CREDITS begin.
FRAN (SINGS)
Ah, such fleeting paradise
such innocent delight
to love,
be loved,
a lullabye,
then silence.
The song finishes. Applause. They're the entertainment at a
cocktail party to celebrate a silver wedding anniversary.
Some partygoers congratulate Fran on her performance. A
distinguished looking man, pushing his wife in a wheelchair,
approaches Ripley, offers his hand.
HERBERT GREENLEAF
Most enjoyable. Herbert Greenleaf.
RIPLEY
Tom Ripley. Thank you, sir.
HERBERT GREENLEAF
(pointing at Ripley's borrowed
jacket)
I see you were at Princeton.
Then you'll most likely know our son,
Dick. Dickie Greenleaf...
EMILY GREENLEAF
We couldn't help noticing your jacket.
HERBERT GREENLEAF
Yes.
EMILY GREENLEAF
Class of '56?
RIPLEY
(hesitating)
How is Dickie?
INT. ELEVATOR OPENING OUT INTO LOBBY. EARLY EVENING.
Fran, Ripley, Mr and Mrs Greenleaf and others emerge from an
elevator. Emily talks to Fran, Herbert to Ripley.
EMILY GREENLEAF
(to Fran)
I hope you'll come and see us...
FRAN
That's very kind.
EMILY GREENLEAF
Both of you...
HERBERT GREENLEAF
Of course, Dickie's idea of music is
Jazz. He has a saxophone. To my ear Jazz
is just noise, just an insolent noise.
EXT. CENTRAL PARK WEST. EARLY EVENING.
Ripley shakes hands with Herbert Greenleaf as he gets into
his Rolls Royce. They are making an appointment. Ripley
crosses the street to Fran, pecks her cheek. She hands him
his share of their fee.
RIPLEY
Gotta run. I'm so late.
(he hands Fran's boyfriend the
jacket he's been wearing)
Thanks for the jacket.
BOYFRIEND
Sure. Thanks for filling in for me.
From Greenleaf's point of view he sees a couple embracing.
EMILY GREENLEAF
Darling couple, aren't they?
HERBERT GREENLEAF
Yes. An exceptional young man.
From another vantage point Ripley hurries on as Fran gets
into her boyfriend's car. A piano quartet starts up.
EXT. THEATER. EVENING.
Ripley runs past the droves of arriving concert-goers and
heads for the theater. Music continues.
INT. MEN'S ROOM, THEATER. NIGHT.
The interval: A thick mass of men in tuxedoes grooming
themselves at the basins. Ripley turns on faucets, offers
towels, brushes off dandruff. Men talk over, round, and
through him. Put coins in a bowl.
INT. A BOX AT THE THEATER. NIGHT
The concert continues. Ripley peers through the curtain at
the performances. A haughty woman in the box turns round and
he closes the curtain.
INT. BACKSTAGE. 1:30 A.M.
An empty auditorium. Ripley plays Bach in the blue
ghostlight. A caretaker emerges from his rounds, flips on
the house lights. Ripley jerks up from his playing, waves
apologetically.
RIPLEY
Sorry, sorry. I know. Sorry.
EXT. GREENLEAF SHIPYARDS, BROOKLYN. DAY.
Greenleaf and Ripley walk through one of the drydocks. A
huge void in the shape of a boat, swarming with workers
preparing the shell of a new liner. If Central Park is where
the money is spent, this is clearly where it's made. And a
lot of it. Workers nod deferentially to the man with his name
over the buildings behind them.
HERBERT GREENLEAF
Mongibello. Tiny place. South of Naples.
Marge, his uh, the young lade is
supposedly writing some kind of book. God
knows what he does. By all accounts they
spend the whole time on the beach. Or his
sailboat. That's my son's talent,
spending his allowance.
Ripley, in his green corduroy jacket the very model of a
sober young man, listens attentively.
HERBERT GREENLEAF (cont'd)
Could you ever conceive of going to
Italy, Tom, persuade my son to come home?
(Ripley looks doubtful)
I'd pay you. I'd pay you 1000 dollars.
RIPLEY
I've always wanted to go to Europe, sir,
but...
HERBERT GREENLEAF
Good. Now you can go for a reason.
INT. RIPLEY'S APARTMENT, NEW YORK. DAY.
A vinyl RECORD revolves in close up. An exuberant and
mysterious VOICE is scat singing. Wild. Then the sound slides
into a raucous big band jazz number: Dizzy Gillespie's The
Champ. A HAND ejects the record. When the camera finds the
man's face it is BLINDFOLDED. He's hot. He's wearing an
undershirt. He's trying to identify the recording.
RIPLEY (O/S)
I don't know. Count Basie? Duke
Ellington. I don't know. Count Basie.
The man pulls of the blindfold, examines the record cover of
the disc he's been trying to learn, needs to put on glasses
to do so, is irritated by his mistake. He ejects the record.
A pile of other jazz records are strewn across a cluttered
table which includes classical sheet music and a paper
keyboard. One hand idly mimes at the keys.
INT. RIPLEY'S APARTMENT. DAY.
Another song for Ripley to identify is on the gramophone.
Chet Baker's My Funny Valentine. Signs everywhere of
packing. A suitcase. Books about Italy. Ripley paces in this
BASEMENT room, which is bathroom, kitchen, living room and
bedroom all in one. Tiny, tidy, squalid and sad. The windows
give onto bars and a wall.
RIPLEY
Don't even know if this is a man or a
woman.
There's a violent row going on in the room above his head. He
flinches.
INT. RIPLEY'S APARTMENT. DAY.
Ripley, shining his shoes, packing almost done, is testing
himself on another piece of music. Free jazz saxophone:
Charlie Parker's Koko. He listens hard, recognizes the
track.
RIPLEY
That's Charlie Parker. Bird.
He skips over to the gramophone, checks the record. He's
right, he smiles.
INT. RIPLEY'S APARTMENT. DAY.
Ripley studies an old photograph of Dickie Greenleaf in a
Princeton Yearbook. He shoves the book in a bag, picks up
his suitcase and takes a last look around the dingy apartment
before closing the door behind him.
EXT. RIPLEY'S APARTMENT. DAY.
Ripley hauls his luggage up the stairs and into the sunlight.
He is met at the top of the stairs by Mr Greenleaf's
chauffeur.
CHAUFFEUR
Here. I'll take that.
RIPLEY
Thanks.
CARETAKER
(nodding towards the apartment)
That thousand bucks should come in handy.
RIPLEY
Yes, sir.
CHAUFFEUR
(interupts Ripley, who is
about to open the car door)
I'll get that.
RIPLEY
Thanks.
CHAUFFEUR
(as he holds open the door for
Ripley)
Sir.
(Ripley laughs excitedly)
You're gonna have a great trip. Mr
Greenleaf is personal friends with the
Cunard people.
INT. HERBERT GREENLEAF'S CAR. DAY.
Ripley luxuriates in the back of the Greenleaf limousine. He
opens up an envelope he's carrying with Greenleaf stationery.
Inside a First Class Cunard Ticket, some traveler's checks
and dollars.
CHAUFFEUR
I can tell you. The Greenleaf name opens
a lot of doors.
EXT. QUEEN MARY, MANHATTAN SKYLINE. DAY.
The liner leaves New York en route to Italy. END CREDITS.
INT. NAPLES HARBOR, CUSTOMS & IMMIGRATION HALL. DAY.
ITALY. Brilliant sunshine. The Queen Mary has just docked.
Passengers can be seen disembarking through the huge windows.
Coming from the First Class gangways they are greeted,
escorted, fussed over into the hall. Their bags have been
unloaded ahead of them, and are now being sorted in the hall
under the initials of their owners. STANDS WITH THE LETTERS
OF THE ALPHABET CHALKED ON THEM are dotted about, and trunks
and suitcases of all shapes and sizes form small hills around
them. Ripley enters and an Italian Porter approaches, wants
his name. Ripley. Ripley. Ripley! he repeats in the hubbub
and joins the crowd around the letter R. A striking young
woman (MEREDITH) is nearby. She notices him.
Ripley proceeds to the Customs area, where he's held in a
line as a large suitcase is opened and searched. Meredith
catches up with him. Her luggage a mountain next to his.
MEREDITH
What's your secret?
RIPLEY
Excuse me?
MEREDITH
No, it's just - you are American, aren't
you? - no, I just, I have so much
luggage, and you're so, uh, streamlined.
It's humiliating.
Ripley shrugs. Now they're opening a second case of the
passenger ahead. Hard not to converse.
MEREDITH (cont'd)
I'm Meredith, by the way. Meredith
Randall.
RIPLEY
Dickie, Dickie Greenleaf. Hello.
MEREDITH
Hello.
They are passed through immigration, head down the long
stairs towards the street. Meredith catches up with Ripley.
MEREDITH (cont'd)
You're not the Shipping Greenleaf's?
RIPLEY
(thinking quickly)
Trying not to be. Trying to jump ship.
MEREDITH
So now, did they put your suitcase in the
wrong pile? It's just - upstairs -
weren't you under the R stand? I thought
I saw you there.
RIPLEY
My father wants me in New York. He builds
boats. I'd rather sail them. I travel
under my mother's name.
MEREDITH
Which is?
RIPLEY
Emily.
(Meredith's bewildered)
Just kidding.
MEREDITH
The funny thing is, I'm not Randall
either. I'm Logue.
RIPLEY
(nods, recognizing the name)
As in the...?
MEREDITH
As in the Textile Logues. Trying to shrug
off the dress. I travel under my mother's
name, too.
RIPLEY
Randall.
MEREDITH
Right.
They've arrived at a crossroads on the stairs - graphic signs
explain the choices: one way for Buses, Taxis and exits - the
other for Trains: ROMA, VENEZIA, MILANO. They're going in
different directions.
MEREDITH (cont'd)
(offering her hand)
So - partners in disguise.
(looks at the signs)
Bye.
EXT. COASTAL ROAD FROM NAPLES. LATE AFTERNOON.
A BUS rolls around a coastal road cut into the side of a
cliff, mountain above, blue sea below.
INT. BUS. LATE AFTERNOON.
Ripley sits surrounded by teeming life. The bus slows at a
new town. People get off.
INT/EXTERIOR. BUS ARRIVES MONGIBELLO. LATE DAY.
Later, the day ending. Ripley looks out as they continue on
their journey. Arriving at a small fishing port they wind
down through a square, passing the local church.
EXT. MONGIBELLO, FISHERMAN'S WHARF. LATE DAY.
And then the bus is in the heart of a wharf. On one side
there's evidence of the fisherman's life, nets, old men
working. Opposite there's a tiny cafe spilling out onto the
street, young guys hang out, play table football, lounge on
their Vespas. The Driver chants -
DRIVER
MONGIBELLO!
Ripley gets out, lugging his cases, as the bus continues on
its way. He looks around him. He feels completely foreign.
EXT. MIRAMARE HOTEL/BOAT AT SEA. MORNING.
A SAILBOAT has slid into his view, now drops anchor, drops
the sail. A couple dive off and swim towards shore.
ALL OF THIS IS FROM THE POINT OF VIEW OF RIPLEY, who's
watching the events through binoculars from his tiny balcony
in the Miramare Hotel. An Italian Vocabulary Book is perched
on his knees and, during this, he continues his study,
mouthing the Italian words.
RIPLEY
(looking at a long, lean girl
about to dive)
La fidanzata a una faccia. The fianc閑
has a face. La fidanzata e Marge.
Her partner, DICKIE GREENLEAF, dives too. They're brown,
beautiful, perfect. Ripley notices the name of the boat:
"BIRD".
RIPLEY (cont'd)
Questo e la mia faccia.....
The golden couple emerge from the sea. Dickie shakes off the
water, grins.
RIPLEY (cont'd)
This is my face.
He double-checks himself with the vocabulary book.
RIPLEY (cont'd)
Questa...e la mia faccia. Questa e la
faccia di Dickie.
EXT. MONGIBELLO. DAY.
Ripley emerges from one of the beach cabins, and stands on
the edge of the sand on a wooden walkway. He's wearing A TINY
LIME-GREEN BATHING SUIT. He loathes beaches. A couple of boys
turn laconically and watch him.
Ripley puts on his shoes and scurries to the sea. He feels
ridiculous, his skin alabaster against the brown bodies.
Finally, the shame is too great and he pulls off his shoes
and dashes to the water, where he luxuriates in the coolness
of it before wading out of the sea, and walking straight up
to Dickie.
RIPLEY
Dickie Greenleaf?
Dickie squints at Ripley, who holds his shoes, lamely.
DICKIE
Who's this?
RIPLEY
It's Tom. Tom Ripley. We were at
Princeton together.
DICKIE
Okay.
(he sits up)
And did we know each other?
RIPLEY
Well, I knew you, so I suppose you must
have known me.
DICKIE
(to Marge)
Princeton is like a fog, America's like a
fog.
(to Ripley)
This is Marge Sherwood. Tom - sorry, what
was it?
RIPLEY
Ripley. Hullo. How do you do.
MARGE
How do you do.
DICKIE
What are you doing in Mongi?
RIPLEY
Nothing. Nothing much. Passing through.
DICKIE
(finds this idea absurd)
Passing through! You're so white. Did you
ever see a guy so white, Marge? Gray,
actually.
RIPLEY
It's just an undercoat.
(Marge laughs)
DICKIE
Say again?
RIPLEY
You know, a primer.
DICKIE
That's funny.
He shares some intimacy with Marge, makes her laugh. Ripley
stands as they wrestle around him. Marge looks up.
MARGE
You should come and have lunch with us,
before you go - Dickie?
DICKIE
Sure. Any time.
MARGE
And be careful in the sun. Your gray's in
danger of turning a little pink.
RIPLEY
Thanks. Well, a coincidence.
EXT. MONGIBELLO. EARLY MORNING.
ANOTHER DAY. Church Bells ringing. Dickie, dressed in
shorts, comes bumping up the cobbled path towards the square
on his MOTORSCOOTER. He stops by a steep flight of steps.
RIPLEY, a book in hand, unseen, walking up a hill, catches
all this and, intrigued, watches as a young Italian beauty,
SILVANA, has a spikey, flirtatious exchange with Dickie, then
climbs on the scooter, behind him.
DICKIE
I've been looking for you everywhere.
SILVANA
Ah, today you're looking for me. And
where have you been the rest of the week?
Pig. With your American girl? I hate
you, you know?
DICKIE
What?
SILVANA
I hate you.
And RIPLEY watches them as they rattle down the hill towards
the sea.
EXT. MARGE'S HOUSE. AFTERNOON.
Dickie appears in Marge's garden, the sea behind his head.
Marge is sitting at her outside table surrounded by some of
the remnants of lunch. Dickie's sheepish, showered, late.
DICKIE
Sorry, sorry, sorry. I know, I'm late,
I'm a swine.
MARGE
Did you forget where I live? It's four
o'clock.
DICKIE
I just woke up. I'm sorry.
MARGE
You just woke up!
DICKIE
Fausto and I - we took the boat out, we
were fishing, and then it was dawn and
we'd caught absolutely nothing.
MARGE
Well, we ate everything without you.
DICKIE
We?
MARGE
Yes, Tom Ripley's here.
As Ripley appears with the tray to collect more dishes.
DICKIE
Who? Oh, Tom, hello, how are you? We
thought you'd disappeared. We were going
to send out a search party.
RIPLEY
No, still here.
MARGE
Tom was telling me about his trip over.
Made me laugh so much I got a nosebleed.
DICKIE
Is that good?
MARGE
Shut up!
Marge flicks him with a napkin. They start to wrestle,
excluding Tom.
RIPLEY
I'm intruding.
DICKIE
Can you mix a martini?
RIPLEY
(hesitant)
Sure.
MARGE
(going inside)
I'll do it. I make a fabulous martini.
DICKIE
Everybody should have one talent.
(to Ripley)
What's yours?
RIPLEY
(without a beat)
Forging signatures. Telling lies.
Impersonating practically anybody.
DICKIE
(enjoying this banter)
That's three. Nobody should have more
than one talent. Okay, do an impression.
RIPLEY
Now? Okay. Wait a minute. Talent -
(his voice ages, his face
changes)
The only talent my son has is for cashing
his allowance.
DICKIE
(absolutely thrown)
What? What's this?
RIPLEY
I like to sail, believe me, I love to
sail! Instead I make boats and other
people sail them.
DICKIE
(incredibly impressed)
Stop! It's too much! You're making all
the hairs on my neck stand up!
RIPLEY
(relishing it)
Jazz, let's face it, it's just an
insolent noise.
DICKIE
I feel like he's here. Horrible. Like the
old bastard is here right now! That's
brilliant! How do you know him?
RIPLEY
I met him in New York.
DICKIE
Marge! You've got to hear this!
MARGE
(returning with the drinks)
What? What?
DICKIE
Meet my father, Herbert Richard Greenleaf
1st.
RIPLEY
Pleasure to meet you, Dickie's made a
fine catch. I know Emily thinks so.
MARGE
What's going on?
DICKIE
Uncanny!
MARGE
I don't get it.
RIPLEY
Could you ever conceive of going there,
Tom, and bringing him back?
DICKIE
What?
RIPLEY
I'd pay you. If you would go to Italy and
persuade my son to come home. I'd pay you
$1000.
INT/EXT. MONGIBELLO CHURCH AND SQUARE. DUSK.
A christening is over and now the whole village is pouring
out of Church for the Passeggiata in Sunday best. Girls arm
in arm parade. Boys arm in arm evaluate. New babies are
compared and fussed over. Old people smoke, talk, shrug.
Dickie is walking with Ripley, seething about his father's
scheming.
DICKIE
I'm never going back. To actually hire
somebody to come all the way here to drag
me back home - got to be insane, hasn't
he?
SILVANA comes out of church arm in arm with a man, her
fiancee, as part of a foursome which includes Dickie's pal
FAUSTO. Silvana's eyes flick towards Dickie, otherwise
there's no acknowledgement as they all greet each other.
Dickie introduces Tom, then they move on.
DICKIE (cont'd)
I'm never going back!
RIPLEY
No, I think your mother, her illness -
DICKIE
It's got nothing to do with my mother!
She's had leukemia for - ! This is what
makes me boil about him! HE wants me
back! - it's got nothing to do with my
mother.
RIPLEY
I don't know, Dickie, I'm just telling
you what I -
DICKIE
(interrupting)
Go back! Go back to New York or call him
if you can find a telephone that works,
and tell him wild horses wouldn't drag me
back to him or his shipyard.
EXT. DICKIE'S HOUSE, MONGIBELLO. AFTERNOON.
Ripley appears, with his meagre luggage at Dickie's front
door. He's carrying his tote bag under his arm, the bottom of
which seems to be unstitched and held together only by his
fingers. Marge is on the terrace, she looks down to see Tom
talking with Dickie.
MARGE
Hi Tom.
DICKIE
(looks up)
Marge, Ripley's saying goodbye.
MARGE
I'll come down.
DICKIE
(to Ripley)
Did you speak to my father?
RIPLEY
You were right about the telephones.
There are no lines, there's some problem.
MARGE
(coming out of the front door)
Hello Tom. You're off? What are your
plans?
RIPLEY
Back, I suppose, slowly as I can.
He goes to shake her hand and as he releases the tote bag the
seam splits and records spill to the ground, scattering. He
bends down, starts gathering them up. Marge helps.
RIPLEY (cont'd)
Oh, damn, sorry, this bag's -
Dickie's delighted when he sees the Jazz titles.
DICKIE
You like jazz!
RIPLEY
(gathering up the records)
I love jazz.
DICKIE
(holding up a Chet Baker)
This is the best. Marge says she likes
jazz, but she things Glenn Miller is
jazz.
MARGE
I never said that!
RIPLEY
Bird. That's jazz.
DICKIE
Bird! Ask me the name of my sailboat -
RIPLEY
I don't know. What's the name of your
sailboat?
DICKIE
Bird!
MARGE
Which is ridiculous. Boats are female,
everyone knows you can't call a boat
after a man.
RIPLEY
He's not a man, he's a god.
DICKIE
(excited)
Okay, we're going to Naples. There's a
club, it's not a club, it's a cellar.
MARGE
It's vile.
DICKIE
Yes, it's vile. Don't worry, you don't
have to come.
(to Ripley)
It's great. You're going to love it.
INT. JAZZ CLUB, NAPLES. NIGHT.
A cavern blue with smoke. A surprisingly good QUINTET blast
out their version of MOANIN'. Dickie and Ripley arrive and
make their way to a table where Fausto is sitting with
friends. It's too noisy for conversation, but Dickie shouts
introductions and they shake Ripley's hand. Dickie is
instantly absorbed in the music, Ripley absorbed in Dickie.
An attractive Italian Girl, DAHLIA, comes over, kisses
Dickie, pulls off his hat, puts it on, there's no room for
her to sit, so she sits on Dickie's lap, smoking his
cigarette. Dickie raises his eyebrow at Tom, but it's
clearly no hardship. Then the band strikes up the intro to Tu
vuo' fa' L'Americano - a hit which reflects the current craze
for all things American - and Fausto pulls a protesting Dickie
up onto the stage.
FAUSTO
(improvising in Italian)
Ladies and Gentlemen. Dickie Greenleaf,
all the way from America... etc.
Fausto starts to sing. Dickie joins in the chorus. Everybody
claps. Dickie talks off-mic to Fausto.
FAUSTO (cont'd)
And a big round of applause for a new
friend from New York - Tom Ripley!
Ripley's mortified, but Dickie jumps off the stage and pulls
him up. The song continues and now, at the chorus, it's
Dickie and Ripley who have to sing. Ripley, of course, can
sing well, if not confident in this arena. Soon the audience
is clapping, standing on tables, dancing, Dahlia prominent.
DICKIE (O/S)
(reading)
I have bumped into an old friend from
Princeton - a fellow named Tom Ripley.
He says he's going to haunt me until I
agree to come back to New York with
him...
INT. DICKIE'S HOUSE. NOON.
Dickie, in his new dressing gown, is sitting at the table,
typing. Ripley's head emerges from behind the couch on which
he has been enjoying a blissful sleep.
DICKIE
(grins)
Good afternoon!
RIPLEY
What time is it?
(puts on his glasses and checks
his watch)
Oh God! Do you always type your letters?
(points at the letter)
That should be two Ts.
DICKIE
I can't write and I can't spell. That's
the privilege of a first-class education.
You're upstairs at the back. I think
Ermelinda made the bed up.
RIPLEY
This is so good of you.
DICKIE
Don't say it again. Now you're a Double
Agent and we're going to string my Dad
alone, I was thinking we might buy a
little car with the expense money he's
sending you. What do you think, Marge...a
little Cinquecento with my Dad's money?
Marge has appeared, carrying Camparis.
MARGE
Dickie, you can't even drive a car! No,
what we need urgently is an icebox. What
do you think, Tom? Agree with me and I'll
be your friend for life.
RIPLEY
I absolutely agree with Marge.
INT. DICKIE'S HOUSE, UPSTAIRS. DAY.
Ripley locates his room, puts down his luggage in what is a
comfortable and simple room, then heads back downstairs only
to be tempted by the open door of Dickie's bedroom.
INT. DICKIE'S BEDROOM. DAY.
Ripley explores the casual elegance of Dickie's bedroom - the
Louis Vuitton chest, the closet's open door spilling out
shirts, ties. On the dressing table there are toiletries,
cufflinks scattered, a silk tie. Ripley picks up the tie and
walks towards the open window below which is a terrace where
lunch is being laid. Marge and Dickie are chatting. Shreds of
conversation float up to Ripley.
DICKIE
It'll just be for a little while. He can
be... he makes me laugh.
MARGE
Okay, darling.
DICKIE
You'd say if you mind?
MARGE
No, I like him.
DICKIE
Marge, you like everybody.
MARGE
I don't like you.
DICKIE
Then I'll go to your place and you can
move in with Tom.
Above them, Ripley repeats these phrases, carefully, testing
the cadences, No, I like him. Marge, you like everybody,
until he's as accurate as a taperecorder.
EXT. TERRACE OF DICKIE'S HOUSE. DAY.
Ermelinda is clearing away lunch. Ripley is changed and
sitting at the table with Marge while Dickie works on the
coffee. Ripley watches him, studying everything: the way he
uses the expresso machine, the way he wears no socks, his
pants, his rings.
DICKIE
Now you know why Miss Sherwood always
shows up for breakfast. It's not love
it's the coffee machine.
MARGE
It's the one task Dickie can do on his
own - make coffee.
DICKIE
Shut up.
MARGE
Oh darling - is that for me?
DICKIE
No it's for Tom as he didn't complain.
RIPLEY
(as Dickie hands him his cup)
That ring's so great. The green one.
MARGE
(delighted)
Tom, I love you!
(to Dickie)
See!
(to Ripley)
I bought it for him, for his birthday.
RIPLEY
It's superb.
DICKIE
I had to promise, capital P, never to
take it off - otherwise I'd give it to
you.
MARGE
(flicking a crumb at him)
Bastard!
(to Ripley)
Isn't it great, Tom? I found it in
Naples. I bargained for about two weeks.
DICKIE
I hope it wasn't cheap.
MARGE
Oh, it was.
RIPLEY
(to Marge)
I have to find a birthday present for
Frances. Perhaps you can help me?
MARGE
Frances?
RIPLEY
My fianc閑.
DICKIE
You're a dark horse, Ripley. Engaged?
RIPLEY
Your parents met her.
DICKIE
Oh God - I can just imagine - if only
Dickie would settle down... doesn't every
parent deserve a grandchild? Never! I
swear on your ring, Marge. I am never
going back.
EXT. BIRD SAILBOAT. DAY.
The Bird is sailing off the coast of Mongibello. There's a
manoeuvre going on with the sail. Captain Dickie supervises
his crew of Marge and a painfully awkward anxious-to-please
Ripley. Dickie goes over to help him.
RIPLEY
I'm doing this wrong, aren't I?
DICKIE
You're doing great. We'll make a sailor
of you yet. You're doing really well.
MARGE
Dubious but special honor, Tom - crewing
Dickie's boat. Alright, bar's open.
DICKIE
Yes please!
She heads for the cabin. Dickie settles down beside Ripley.
RIPLEY
Could we sail to Venice?
DICKIE
Sure. I love Venice.
RIPLEY
I have to go to Venice.
DICKIE
See Venice and die, isn't that right? Or
is it Rome? You do something and die,
don't you? Okay, Venice is on the list.
RIPLEY
And Rome.
DICKIE
Do you ski?
(Ripley frowns)
Don't tell me - you're a lost cause!
That's the next thing to deal with. We're
planning to go to Cortina at Christmas.
Excellent skiing. Excellent.
(as Marge reappears)
Marge - Ripley can't ski. We'll have to
teach him that, too. Have you ever known
such low class?
MARGE
Poor Tom. Good thing we're not getting
married. We might have to invite him on
our honeymoon.
EXT. MONGIBELLO. LATE DAY.
Marge and Ripley are on a shopping expedition. They walk down
the hill towards the grocery shop, next to the bar in the
little square. Ripley has asked Marge how she and Dickie met.
MARGE
Oh I hated New York - that Park Avenue
crowd - so I fled to Paris to work on my
book, and I was always going to this cafe
with Jean-Jacques, and Dickie used to
play his saxophone outside and I would
see him and he would see me, and he would
play My Funny Valentine. It was only
later that I realised he only knows about
six songs.
They've arrived at the Grocery Store. Alessandra, the woman
who owns the store greets them. Silvana, who's her daughter,
is also there, and less comfortable. She waits for Marge's
order.
MARGE (cont'd)
(to Silvana, in Italian)
Buono Sera, Silvana. Por favore: arance e
pane, e del prosciutto.
SILVANA
E fichi? Come sempre?
MARGE
Si. Come sempre. Grazie.
Silvana goes inside for the meat and bread. Marge frowns.
MARGE (cont'd)
(back to Ripley)
Anyway, then one day, we go in, I see
Dickie, he starts playing My Funny
Valentine, and then all of a sudden he
just walks into the cafe, right in front
of Jean-Jacques, and grabs me! Now I had
never spoken to him in my life - he said
I'm going to Italy, tomorrow, and I want
you to come with me. So I did.
At the edge of the square there's A BOCCE AREA, where men
throw metal balls along a track, aiming to get closest to a
small cue. Dickie is there, playing intensely with Fausto and
two other guys, one of whom we've seen before with Silvana.
Ripley and Marge loop back towards home, taking in the Bocce
en route. Dickie waves. They wave back. Marge calls to him.
MARGE (cont'd)
If you're not at my place by 7.00, Tom
and I are running off together.
DICKIE
Okay.
EXT. MARGE'S HOUSE. EARLY EVENING.
Dickie and Ripley are leaving. They're fooling around.
Dickie jumps on Ripley's shoulders. Marge watches from the
top of the garden.
EXT. MONGIBELLO SQUARE. EARLY EVENING.
Dickie and Ripley, still horsing about, pass Silvana's
grocery store. Dickie dismounts, goes over to Silvana, who's
tense, a little troubled. They huddle, Ripley isolated.
SILVANA
Did you get my message? I want to talk
to you.
DICKIE
I want to talk to you too...Smile for me.
And Dickie's already gone, back to Ripley feinting to box him
then dancing, satyr-like, down the hill.
EXT. COASTAL ROAD TO NAPLES. EVENING.
Dickie and Ripley on the Vespa. There's a steep incline where
the road winds down towards Naples and, as the Vespa gains
speed, Ripley is happy to cling to Dickie.
DICKIE
You're breaking my ribs!
RIPLEY
What?
DICKIE
You're breaking my ribs!
INT. JAZZ CLUB, NAPLES. NIGHT.
Ripley's really singing, carrying the burden of My Funny
Valentine in a flawless imitation of Chet Baker. Dickie is
playing some sax. After a verse, there's spontaneous
applause. Dickie, impressed beams at Ripley.
INT. DICKIE'S HOUSE. NIGHT.
A NEW ICEBOX, incongruous in pride of place in the living
room, casts its glow on a delighted Dickie as he pulls out a
couple of beers, handing one to Ripley who is paging through
his copy of the Collected Works of Shakespeare.
DICKIE
I could fuck this icebox I love it so
much.
(considering Ripley)
What were you actually doing in New York?
RIPLEY
I played piano in a few places.
DICKIE
That's one job, you told me a lot of
jobs.
RIPLEY
A few places - that's a few jobs. Anyway,
I don't want to think about New York.
DICKIE
The mysterious Mr Ripley. Marge and I
spend hours speculating.
(drinking)
Cold beer. Thank you Dad.
RIPLEY
Copy out from here...
He hands the book to Dickie, pointing out the lines.
DICKIE
(staring to write on the back
of a postcard)
I love the fact you brought Shakespeare
with you and no clothes. Ermelinda says
you wash the same shirt out every night.
Is that true?
RIPLEY
No! I've got more than one shirt!
DICKIE
She can do that stuff for you. Anyway,
just wear some of my things, wear
anything you want, most of it's ancient.
(he's finished writing)
RIPLEY
Now your signature.
(watching him write)
Not "Dickie". Your signature.
Dickie writes his signature at the bottom of the postcard.
Ripley studies the writing, takes off his glasses to clean
them. Dickie looks at him.
DICKIE
Without the glasses you're not even ugly.
(takes them, tries them on)
I don't need them because I never read.
How do I look.
RIPLEY
Like Clark Kent.
(takes them back, puts them on
beaming at Dickie)
Now Superman.
Dickie cuffs him. Ripley looks down at the postcard.
DICKIE
I know. I write like a child.
RIPLEY
Pretty vile. See this: The S and the T,
do you see? - fine, vulnerable - that's
pain, that's secret pain.
DICKIE
It must be a deep secret, cause I don't
know about it.
RIPLEY
Your handwriting - nothing more naked.
See - nothing's quite touching the line -
that's vanity.
DICKIE
(flattered)
Well we certainly know that's true.
INT. DICKIE'S BATHROOM. NIGHT.
Dickie's in the bath. Ripley, dressed, sits on the stool next
to the bath. They're in the middle of playing chess, the
board propped on the bath tray. Ripley puts his hand in the
water, checking the temperature. He turns on the faucet for a
burst of hot. Ripley is absurdly happy. He pours some wine.
DICKIE
Do you have any brothers?
RIPLEY
No, no brothers, no sisters.
DICKIE
me neither. Nor does Marge. All only
children - what does that mean?
He looks at Ripley who looks at him, a little too long.
RIPLEY
Means we never shared a bath.
I'm cold. Can I get in?
DICKIE
No!
RIPLEY
I didn't mean with you in it.
DICKIE
(standing)
Okay, you get in. I'm like a prune
anyway.
He gets out, walks past Ripley, who doesn't turn around. But
Dickie's reflected in the mirror. Ripley looks, then Dickie
turns, holds his look momentarily before flicking him with
his towel.
INT/EXT. AMERICAN EXPRESS OFFICE, NAPLES. DAY.
An OFFICIAL is studying Dickie's passport photograph. It's
not a recent picture. The official looks suspicious. Dickie
is used to it.
DICKIE
It is me. It's an old picture.
(sighs at Ripley)
Every time - 'is it you? Doesn't look
like you'.
He's signing for his allowance. He has a smart document case
with his initials prominently embossed. Ripley watches him
sign and collect a large wad of notes.
CLERK
Letters - Greenleaf, and for Ripley.
Ripley collects and studies his mail. As they walk outside he
holds up one letter to Dickie.
RIPLEY
Fran.
(anticipating her letter)
I miss you, where are you coming home?
Stop telling me what a great time you're
having, how you love Dickie... and Marge
and...
(the next letter)
And this one, I think, is your dad...
INT. TRAIN TO ROME. DAY.
Ripley sits reading the LETTER from Herbert Greenleaf. He
frowns, stops reading, looks out of the window.
DICKIE
What does he say?
RIPLEY
He's getting impatient. He wants me to
reassure him you'll be home by
Thanksgiving.
DICKIE
You've got to get a new jacket. Really.
You must be sick of the same clothes. I'm
sick of seeing you in them.
RIPLEY
I can't. I can't keep spending your
father's money.
DICKIE
I love how responsible you are. My Dad
should make you Chief Accountant or
something. Let me buy you a jacket.
There's a great place when we get to
Rome, Batistoni.
Ripley loves this idea and mouths the word, "Batistoni".
DICKIE (cont'd)
Andiamo a Roma. We're taking Tom to
Roma!
EXT. ARCARI'S CAFE, PIAZZA NAVONA, ROME. DAY.
Ripley and Dickie sit outside at a Cafe in the Piazza Navona.
Very smart, very sophisticated, very young crowd. There are
already several empty coffee cups and a half empty bottle of
Frascati. Ripley has his guide book out and is incredibly
impatient. Dickie, meanwhile, has stretched out for the
duration.
RIPLEY
Where do we find a carozza for the Forum,
or can we hire any of them - ?
DICKIE
Relax.
RIPLEY
It's just there's so much to do in a
single day.
DICKIE
Relax. The most important question is
where to eat. I hope Freddie made a
reservation.
RIPLEY
Freddie?
DICKIE
Freddie Miles. You know - he's
organizing the Cortina skiing trip.
Ripley hates the idea of having this special day invaded. A
horn makes him look up as FREDDIE MILES illegally parks his
open top sports car opposite the cafe, sees Dickie and
bustles over. He's a heavy-set American with a reddish
crewcut. Ripley finds him disgusting to look at. Dickie is
delighted.
DICKIE (cont'd)
Frederico!
FREDDIE
Ciao bello.
(noticing a beautiful woman in
an open-topped car)
Don't you want to fuck every woman you
see. Just once.
They kiss cheeks, continental-style.
DICKIE
This is Tom Ripley. Freddie Miles.
FREDDIE
(mugging)
Hey, if I'm late, think what her
husband's saying!
He fills Dickie's glass with wine and drinks it standing up.
FREDDIE (cont'd)
So let's go. I got us a table outside at
Fabrizio's.
And Dickie's up, leaving Ripley to pick up all the tiny
checks to work out the bill and pay it.
DICKIE
I'll tell you - I am so cabin-crazy with
Mongi.
Freddie and Dickie link arms Italian-style and cross the
street to Freddie's car.
FREDDIE
I know. I was there.
(looks back to see Ripley
struggling to settle the
check)
Tommy! It's S.R.O. Two seater.
Standing Room Only. Chop, chop, Tommy!
Ripley, abandoned, goes over. There's no room in the car. He
has to crouch in the rear.
FREDDIE (cont'd)
You're going to have to sit between us.
But don't put your shoes on the seat,
know what I mean, put them one on top of
the other. Okay?
INT. A JAZZ RECORD STORE. LATE AFTERNOON.
This record store is hidden away down a cobbled alley, and
stuffed with the trendiest Romans, all of whom rifle the
stacks under a fog of cigarette smoke. There are two
LISTENING BOOTHS, one of which has Freddie and Dickie crammed
into it, sharing a set of headphones. Ripley stands outside
the booth, holding both of their jackets like a manservant,
while inside and behind the glass doors they chat animatedly.
He looks longingly at the street, where the light is fading.
Dickie catches his hangdog expression and pushes open the
accordion doors.
DICKIE
Look, Tom, we've got to go to a club and
meet some friends of Freddie's. The best
thing is - if you want to be a tourist -
grab a cab and we can meet up at the
railway station.
RIPLEY
(absolutely crestfallen)
What club?
DICKIE
Freddie's arranged it with some of the
skiing crowd. Come if you want but I
thought you wanted to see the Forum...?
RIPLEY
I did. And then maybe get the jacket and
what have you...
FREDDIE
(from inside the booth)
Dick - you've got to hear this!
DICKIE
(oblivious to Ripley's pain)
Listen, just take one of mine when we get
back. Don't worry about it. I did the
Forum with Marge and, frankly, once is
enough in anyone's life.
Ripley hands him the coats, turns away.
DICKIE
Ciao. Have fun.
Ripley heads for the door, then comes back, raps on the
booth. Dickie pushes it open.
RIPLEY
You said to make sure you didn't miss the
train. It leaves at eight.
EXT. THE CAPITOL. LATE AFTERNOON.
Ripley hikes up Michelangelo's Arcoeli Steps. Then he's
looking down from the Campodoglio at the Forum below. Then
he's walking by the oversized fragments of the Colossus. This
is the real Ripley, the lover of beauty, inspired by art, by
antiquity. He's awed. He's cold. He so much wishes he weren't
alone.
INT. ROME RAILWAY STATION. NIGHT.
It's past eight, Ripley stands, one foot on the guard step of
the Naples train, waiting forlornly for Dickie, then giving
up as the train pulls away. He pulls the door to his
compartment closed, and sits inside the train alone.
INT. DICKIE'S BEDROOM. NIGHT.
There's music playing, Bing Crosby's "May I". Very loud.
Ripley dances to the mirror, SPECTACLES ABANDONED and DRESSED
AS DICKIE IN HIS TUXEDO, MINUS TROUSERS. He adjusts his hair,
catches one of Dickie's expressions. There are clothes
abandoned everywhere. He's been having a big dressing-up
session. He sings along with Bing.
DICKIE (O/S)
What are you doing?
Ripley turns, horrified, to see Dickie standing in the
doorway. The music thumps away.
RIPLEY
Oh - just amusing myself. Sorry, Dickie.
(pause)
I didn't think you were coming back.
Dickie turns off the record player.
DICKIE
I wish you'd get out of my clothes.
Ripley starts undressing, his fingers clumsy with
mortification and shock. Dickie looks at his feet, shakes
his head.
DICKIE (cont'd)
Shoes too?
RIPLEY
(lame, ashamed)
You said I could pick out a jacket and I
just... Sorry.
DICKIE
Get undressed in your own room, would
you?
RIPLEY
I thought you'd missed the train.
DICKIE
Freddie drove me back in his car.
RIPLEY
(horrified)
Is Freddie here?
DICKIE
He's downstairs.
RIPLEY
I was just fooling around. Don't say
anything. Sorry.
Dickie lets him leave and then sits amongst the debris of the
dressing-up session, not amused.
EXT. DICKIE'S TERRACE. DAY.
Ripley comes down, apprehensive, to find Marge and Dickie and
Freddie having a jolly breakfast on the terrace. Dickie looks
perfectly happy.
MARGE
Hi, Tom. Come join us.
FREDDIE
I want this job of yours, Tommy. I was
just saying - You live in Italy, sleep in
Dickie's house, eat Dickie's food, wear
his clothes, and his father picks up the
tab. If you get bored, let me know, I'll
do it!
EXT. THE OCEAN, ABOARD THE BIRD. DAY.
The boat is drifting. Freddie and Dickie and Marge are
swimming, then Marge climbs back onto the boat, where Ripley
is sitting alone, reading.
MARGE
You really should go in, it's marvellous.
RIPLEY
I'm fine.
She approaches him, conscious of his isolation. She's in a
red bikini, and she towels herself dry as they speak.
MARGE
Are you okay?
RIPLEY
Sure.
They watch Dickie and Freddie fooling around in the water.
MARGE
The thing with Dickie - it's like the sun
shines on you and it's glorious, then he
forgets you and it's very very cold.
RIPLEY
So I'm learning.
MARGE
He's not even aware of it. When you've
got his attention you feel like you're
the only person in the world. That's why
everybody loves him. Other times...
There's a yell from Dickie as Freddie wrestles with him.
DICKIE
(laughing and choking)
He's drowning me!
MARGE
It's always the same whenever someone new
comes into his life - Freddie, Fausto,
Peter Smith-Kingsley - he's wonderful -
did you meet him, he's a musician? -
... and especially you, of course... and
that's only the boys.
They watch as Freddie pushes Dickie under the surface.
MARGE (cont'd)
Tell me, why is it when men play they
always play at killing each other...?
I'm sorry about Cortina by the way.
RIPLEY
What about Cortina?
MARGE
Didn't Dick say? - he talked to
Freddie... apparently it's not going to
work out -
(Ripley's devastated, Marge
notices, can't look at him)
Freddie says there aren't enough rooms.
EXT. OCEAN, ABOARD THE BIRD. DUSK.
LATER and now the boat is sailing again. Ripley is sitting in
his spot. Dickie and Freddie are at the tiller.
DICKIE
Come on, Frederico, do you really have
to go back? At least stick around for
the Festival of the Madonna.
FREDDIE
I don't think so. Come back with me to
Rome. There's this great new club. Have
some drinks, lotta ladies...
Marge, still in her bikini, disappears into the cabin. Dickie
makes a face at Freddie.
DICKIE
Do you think you can steer this thing?
FREDDIE
Sure.
DICKIE
Just point her at Capri and avoid the
rocks.
FREDDIE
What are you doing?
DICKIE
Marge-maintenance.
FREDDIE
Aye, aye.
Dickie heads towards the cabin. Freddie takes over the
tiller. There's a breeze and the sailboat cuts through the
water.
From where Ripley sits he can see Capri in the distance, but
he can also look down into the cabin, its porthole offering
him a restricted view. He looks down and there's a flash of
flesh, then nothing. Then as the boat swings with the waves,
he glimpses the bikini top flung over a chair, and then
Marge's bare foot kicking out rhythmically, the red-painted
toes straining. Ripley's mesmerized, aroused, and absolutely
betrayed.
FREDDIE (cont'd)
Tommy - How's the peeping? Come on Tommy,
you were looking. Tommy Tommy Tommy.
Shamed, Ripley looks away. He stares at the water, parting
before the boat, its turmoil reflecting his.
EXT. DICKIE'S MOORING. DAY.
The Bird returns to the mooring by Dickie's House. Dickie as
ever Captain of the Ship, clambering around, shouting
instructions, with Ripley, Marge and Freddie as crew. Ripley
looks back at shore. Silvana stands watching, staring.
Dickie notices her too.
EXT. MONGIBELLO SLIPWAY. LATE DAY.
A WOMAN'S HEAD suddenly breaks the surface of the water.
It's a statue of the Virgin Mary, life size, adorned with
flowers and a lace veil. As she is revealed, wooden,
staring, four men emerge, lifting the statue on a palette,
wading towards the shore, the Madonna aloft on their
shoulders.
The whole town of Mongibello is in attendance for this Annual
Festival of the Madonna del Mare, either standing in their
fishing boats, or on shore and flanking the Parish Priest and
altar boys and incense. RIPLEY, DICKIE and MARGE watch from
Dickie's terrace. There are hymns and, as the statue is
carried to the shore, the men's heads barely above the waves,
the congregation applauds at the illusion that the Madonna is
walking on water.
Suddenly ANOTHER HEAD appears on the surface of the water,
about fifty yards from the statue. There's a scream from
among the crowd as someone notices the body. It's SILVANA.
One of the MEN carrying the statue turns first towards the
direction of the scream and then towards the floating corpse.
It's Silvana's fiancee, and in a second he has let go of the
palette, CAUSING IT TO TOPPLE, and - in absolute grief -
wades, swims, splashes towards the body.
PANDEMONIUM in the crowd, which breaks up, with other people
splashing, fully clothed, into the water. From the terrace,
Ripley turns and looks at Dickie, catching his eye.
EXT. DICKIE'S TERRACE. LATE DAY.
Marge and Ripley and Dickie watch from the terrace as below
them an AMBULANCE takes away the body. It seems as if the
whole town looks on - fiancee, parents, brothers, sisters,
police, priest, etc. As the corpse is loaded into the vehicle
A BRIEF SCUFFLE occurs between Silvana's fiancee and her
brother. They are pulled apart. Then the ambulance pulls
away.
RIPLEY
What's the fight about? That's her
fianc? isn't it? Are they blaming him?
DICKIE
(sharp)
I don't know! Why are you asking me?
(agitated)
How can it take an hour to find an
ambulance?
MARGE
(conciliatory)
Well, she was already dead, darling,
wasn't she, so I suppose -
DICKIE
I don't know why people say this
country's civilised. It isn't. It's
fucking primitive.
And with that HE KICKS OUT VIOLENTLY AT A CHAIR SUPPORTING
THE RECORDPLAYER. Records, machine, chair go flying across
the terrace. Dickie storms inside.
MARGE
Dickie!
RIPLEY
I'll go and see what's the matter.
MARGE
I'll go.
INT. DICKIE'S HOUSE. LATE AFTERNOON.
Later, Dickie is slumped in an armchair at the open window
overlooking the slipway. He's playing sax. A forlorn, keening
phrase from YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT LOVE IS. Ripley appears,
begins tidying the mess in the living room. He picks up
empty bottles, an abandoned bikini top.
RIPLEY
I know why you're upset.
(Dickie continues playing)
I know about Silvana, Dickie. About you
and Silvana.
Dickie stops playing.
DICKIE
What about us?
He now has an armful of dishes and glasses and bottles.
DICKIE (cont'd)
(losing his temper)
You don't have to clean up! Really!
Ripley disappears into the kitchen.
DICKIE (cont'd)
(as Ripley returns)
She was pregnant. Did you know that? Do
you know what that means in a place like
this?
RIPLEY
I'm prepared to take the blame.
DICKIE
What are you talking about?
RIPLEY
You've been so good to me. You're the
brother I never had. I'm the brother you
never had.
DICKIE
She came to me for help, she needed
money, and I didn't help her. I didn't
help her. Now she's dead and it's my
fault.
RIPLEY
I'm not going to say anything - to Marge,
or anybody, the police - It's a secret
between us and I'll keep it.
And he disappears again, leaving Dickie to resume the sax,
somehow in thrall to Ripley.
RIPLEY (O/S)
Dear Tom, I think the time has come to
discontinue your expense checks...
EXT. AMERICAN EXPRESS, NAPLES. DAY.
Ripley and Dickie are walking out of the American Express
Office, Dickie pushing the rest of his money into his case,
Ripley - despondent - reading aloud extracts from a letter
from Herbert Greenleaf -
RIPLEY
...The thousand dollars, of course, was
only due in the event that you succeeded
in bringing Dickie home. Naturally, I
hope the trip has afforded you some
pleasure despite the failure of its main
objective you need no longer consider
yourself obligated to us in any way...
DICKIE
You can't blame him. You could hardly
expect this to go on forever.
RIPLEY
I thought you might write again. Now that
we're brothers...
DICKIE
I can't, how can I, in all decency? We've
had a good run, haven't we?
RIPLEY
(increasingly miserable)
What about Venice? Can we stick to that
plan at least?
DICKIE
I don't think so, Tom. You can't stay on
here without money. It's time we all
moved on. Besides I'm sick of Mongi.
Especially now with everything - I really
want to move to the North. I need to
check out San Remo next week, find
somewhere new to keep the boat.
But it would be great, though, if you
came with me. Our last trip before you
leave. There's a jazz festival - we could
say goodbye in style. What do you think?
A last trip?
INT. TRAIN TO SAN REMO. AFTERNOON.
Dickie and Ripley travel up to San Remo. They sit next to
each other. Dickie's asleep. Ripley lays his head on Dickie's
shoulder, but as he does that, the ticket inspector announces
the San Remo stop, taps on the window and Dickie stirs. Then
Ripley plays his familiar game of studying his face in the
reflection of the train window, so that he can move his head
and see his reflection, then back and see Dickie's. Dickie
suddenly catches him staring. Ripley looks away.
DICKIE
(terse)
Why do you do that thing - with your
neck? On trains you always do that thing,
it's so spooky.
EXT. HOTEL TERRACE RESTAURANT, SAN REMO. NIGHT.
Dickie and Ripley walk through the terrace of an hotel which
lips out towards the sea. There's a restaurant and palms and
a JAZZ QUINTET playing, American. Very cool. They pass the
band. Dickie's captivated as they head for their table. They
pass some girls at a table. Dickie smiles greedily.
DICKIE
This is more like it. Didn't I tell you
San Remo was crazy!
They're shown to a good table. Dickie watches the band while
their glasses are filled with champagne. Ripley looks happy.
He's got Dickie all to himself.
RIPLEY
To Mongibello and the happiest days of my
life.
DICKIE
To Mongi. You're cheerful tonight.
RIPLEY
I'm suddenly quite happy to be going
back.
DICKIE
That's good.
RIPLEY
I've got plans!
DICKIE
Ripley's plans.
RIPLEY
Esatto. I'm always planning.
DICKIE
Did I know you at Princeton, Tom? I
didn't, did I?
RIPLEY
Why are you asking all of a sudden?
DICKIE
No reason. Because you're leaving, I
guess. I don't think you were there, were
you?
RIPLEY
Why?
DICKIE
I mean it as a compliment. You've got
such great taste, I don't know. Most of
the thugs at Princeton had tasted
everything and had no taste. Used to say,
the cream of America: rich and thick.
Freddie's the perfect example.
RIPLEY
Then I'll take it as a compliment.
DICKIE
I knew it! I had a bet with Marge!
RIPLEY
(a beat)
Ha.
DICKIE
Do you even like jazz - or was that
something for my benefit?
RIPLEY
(conceding, without guile)
I've gotten to like it. I've gotten to
like everything about the way you live.
It's one big love affair. If you knew my
life back home in New York...
Dickie's distracted by the drummer who's playing an extrovert
solo, doesn't hear the confession of love.
DICKIE
I'm thinking of giving up the sax, what
do you think about drums?
RIPLEY
What?
DICKIE
So cool.
He mimes a high-hat and snare. Ripley can't quite credit this
- it's superficiality.
EXT. MID OCEAN. DAY.
The bay of San Remo. DICKIE and RIPLEY have hired a motor
boat.
DICKIE
That's how I found my place in Mongi.
Took a boat out round the bay. The first
place I liked, I got it.
The motor boat is ploughing the waves. Dickie exhilarated by
the speed.
RIPLEY
Dickie, slow down, come on!
Ripley grips the oar, his knuckles white. Dickie cuts the
motor, and the boat slows to a crawl, miles from the shore.
DICKIE
(ecstatic)
I love it here! Gonna live here!
Dickie takes off his jacket, then drums against the edge of
the boat, developing a rhythm with his lighter and fingers,
already on the way to becoming Buddy Rich.
RIPLEY
I wanted to tell you my plan.
DICKIE
So tell me.
RIPLEY
I thought I might come back. In the New
Year. Under my own steam.
DICKIE
(suddenly tight)
Really? To Italy?
RIPLEY
Of course. Let's say, for argument's
sake, you were here - perhaps we could
split the rent on a house - I'll get a
job - or, better still, I could get a
place in Rome and when we're there we
could be there and if we're here we could
be here -
DICKIE
Oh God, I don't think so.
RIPLEY
- you see, particularly with the Marge
problem, you can just blame me.
DICKIE
Marge and I are getting married.
RIPLEY
(appalled)
How?
DICKIE
How?
RIPLEY
Yesterday you're ogling girls on the
terrace, today you're getting married.
It's absurd.
DICKIE
I love Marge.
RIPLEY
You love me and you're not marrying me.
DICKIE
(cold)
Tom, I don't love you.
RIPLEY
No, no, it's not a threat, I've explained
all of that.
DICKIE
I'm actually a little relieved you're
going, to be honest. I think we've seen
enough of each other for a while.
Ripley stares at him, his eyes suddenly reptilian.
RIPLEY
What?
DICKIE
You can be a leech - you know this - and
it's boring. You can be quite boring.
RIPLEY
(volcanic)
The funny thing - I'm not pretending to
be somebody else and you are. I'm
absolutely honest with you. I've told you
my feelings. But you, first of all I know
there's something - that evening when we
played chess, for instance, it was
obvious -
DICKIE
(incredulous)
What evening?
RIPLEY
Sure - I know, that's too dangerous for
you, fair enough, hey! we're brothers,
fine, then you do this sordid thing with
Marge, fucking her on the boat while we
all have to listen, which was
excruciating, frankly, plus you follow
your cock around like a - and now you're
getting married! I'm bewildered, forgive
me...you're lying to Marge then getting
married to her, you're knocking up
Silvana, you've got to play sax, you've
got to play drums, which is it, Dickie,
what do you really play?
Dickie, furious, gets up, and lurches towards Ripley.
DICKIE
(attacking him, administering
tiny slaps as punctuation to
his tirade)
Who are you - some imposter, some third
class mooch - who are you to tell me
anything? Actually, I really really
really don't want to be on this boat with
you, I can't move without you moving,
which is exactly how it feels and it
gives me the creeps.
(he goes to rev up the engine)
I can't move without - "Dickie, Dickie,
Dickie" - like a little girl. You give
me the -
RIPLEY SMASHES HIM ACROSS THE HEAD WITH THE OAR. DICKIE SLIPS
OFF THE WOODEN SEAT, HIS EYES ROLLING IN GROGGY SURPRISE.
RIPLEY
Shut up! Just shut up! Just shut up!
The boat slows as Dickie releases the tiller. Dickie looks
up at Ripley wearily and slides onto his back.
DICKIE
For God's sake.
Ripley, shocked at himself, goes to Dickie, rocking the boat,
catches him up, then is horrified to see Dickie's face,
apparently unmarked, SUDDENLY SPLIT OPEN, a line of blood and
then a peeling like a fruit bursting. Ripley's appalled. A
terrible roar issues from Dickie as he launches himself at
Ripley.
DICKIE (cont'd)
I'll kill you!
Ripley finds himself pushing him away, picking up the oar,
kicking off Dickie's hand around his ankle. The boat is
rocking and swerving crazily as Dickie falls against the
tiller. Ripley almost loses his balance. His glasses come
off. They struggle, locked together in a life or death
wrestle to get control of the oar. Dickie's blinded by his
own blood, loses his grip.
Ripley, terrified, hits Dickie again and again, the oar like
a carpet-beater banging down flat, blood on the blade, blood
on Ripley, until he's on his knees, heaving for breath,
letting his arm drop, then realizing, disgusted, that he's
let it rest in a pool of blood. He starts to sob, sprawls
there, sobbing, next to Dickie, horrified by what he's done.
Nobody's in sight. The boat rocks, gently, the sun sparkling
indifferently on the waves. Ripley lies by Dickie in the
bottom of the boat, in the embrace he's always wanted.
The pretty blue-and-white boat rocks peacefully. The sea
calms.
EXT. A COVE NEAR SAN REMO. AFTERNOON.
A deserted cove, several miles along the coast. Ripley
clambers onto a rock over the shore. He's watching the boat
slowly sinking. Shuddering from the exertion, the cold, he
finds Dickie's jacket, puts it on and watches as the boat
disappears under the surface.
EXT. SAN REMO. DUSK.
Ripley walks back towards the hotel, still wearing Dickie's
jacket, cold and wet, his bag over his shoulder.
INT. HOTEL LOBBY. EARLY EVENING.
Ripley approaches the front desk. He's shivering. He's not
wearing his glasses.
RIPLEY
Can I have my key, please?
RECEPTIONIST
(at the key rack)
Of course - But you must be very cold?
Signor Greenleaf? Yes? -
RIPLEY
(mind racing)
No, it's - I'm...
EXT. ROAD BETWEEN NAPLES AND MONGIBELLO. DAY.
Ripley sits on the bus as it rumbles towards Mongi. He
stares out of the window, full of what he's done. No idea
what to do.
EXT. MONGIBELLO, FISHERMAN'S WHARF. DAY.
The BUS comes into town. Ripley gets out, looks calm, very
together.
INT. DICKIE'S LIVING ROOM, MONGIBELLO. DAY.
Ripley walks into the living room, slowly approaches
Dickie's saxophone which is on its stand on the table. He
can't get close to it, it evokes Dickie too much.
INT. DICKIE'S LIVING ROOM. DAY.
Ripley has Dickie's Hermes Baby typewriter on the desk and is
busy writing letters. He has finished a letter to the
Greenleafs, now he's at the end of one to Marge. We can read
part of it - C/O American Express, Rome 9 November 1958. Dear
Marge, this is a difficult letter for me to write... Ripley
produces the Shakespeare and Signature page and COPIES
DICKIE'S SIGNATURE at the end of the letter.
EXT. MARGE'S GARDEN, MONGIBELLO. DAY.
Ripley stands at the entrance to Marge's garden where she is
working at her book on the outside table, surrounded by
references and notes, held down by bricks. He looks at her
until she looks at him. She's startled, gasps.
RIPLEY
Hello Marge.
MARGE
Tom, you startled me! You're back.
RIPLEY
How are you? Sorry. Is your book going
well?
MARGE
Yes - I'm on a good streak, thanks.
RIPLEY
I was just looking at you -
(looking at her tenderly)
- so quiet.
MARGE
Where's Dickie?
RIPLEY
I think he's planning on staying in Rome
for a few days.
MARGE
(looks at him)
Ha. Did he say why?
RIPLEY
I don't know. I don't understand Dickie,
Marge, so your guess is as good as mine.
MARGE
What does that mean?
RIPLEY
Well, one day I'm invited skiing, the
next day I'm not, one day we're all one
family, the next day he wants to be
alone. You tell me.
MARGE
Is that what he said - he wanted to be
alone?
RIPLEY
He was thinking of you, Marge - he asked
me to deliver this.
He hands her a package. She pulls at it, it's perfume.
MARGE
Thanks. he knows I love this, although
why it couldn't have waited...
RIPLEY
Errand number one - deliver Marge's
perfume. Errand number two, pack some
clothes and his precious saxophone.
MARGE
(alarmed)
How long's he staying for?
RIPLEY
Search me. I guess we're abandoned.
EXT. MONGIBELLO, BEACH. EARLY MORNING.
Marge is walking along the beach and out onto the jetty,
forlorn, a bleached figure on this winter morning.
INT. OFF FROM DICKIE'S LIVING ROOM. MORNING.
As Ripley walks down the stairs, Marge is at the icebox in
the living room. She's fixing herself a drink, has the icebox
open for ice. She's ashen, and might have been weeping, walks
back into the kitchen area.
MARGE
There was a letter from Dickie in with my
perfume. You realize it's more than a few
days? He's thinking of moving to Rome.
She bangs out the ice onto the counter, cubes falling
everywhere. Ripley drops to the floor and starts to clear
them up. She's got the letter, shows it to Ripley. He puts
fresh ice into her glass.
MARGE (cont'd)
The thing is, the night before he left,
we talked about moving, together, going
North - and I suppose I put some pressure
on him, about getting married, I just
might have scared him off. There's a side
to him, when our heads are on the pillow,
I know no-one else sees it, which is
really tender.
(unravelling)
I think I should come with you to Rome
and just confront him.
Ripley lights a cigarette. Marge loses confidence.
MARGE (cont'd)
He hates being confronted.
RIPLEY
I think you're right.
INT. ALBERGO GOLDONI, ROME. DAY.
RIPLEY'S BATTERED CASES are carried into the tiny lobby of
this small hotel. He exchanges his passport at the desk for
his room key, then makes his way, carrying his own luggage to
the metal cage elevator. THIS SCENE INTERCUTS WITH:
INT. HOTEL GRAND. DAY.
DICKIE'S ARRAY OF LEATHER LUGGAGE is pulled along on a
baggage trolley by a liveried PORTER.
Dickie's passport slides across the marble desk. A key comes
back, collected by a hand sporting Dickie's two distinctive
rings. As ALDO, the Front Desk Manager, inspects the
passport, he looks at the owner. Ripley wears a terrific
suit, his hair parted in the Greenleaf style, no glasses. His
voice, when he speaks, has the same, lazy, confident drawl.
ALDO
Welcome back, Signor Greenleaf.
RIPLEY
(walking away)
Thank you.
INT. RIPLEY'S SUITE, GRAND. DAY.
The PORTER takes the cases and opens them as Ripley walks
around the suite. It's large and splendid. Ripley breathes in
its opulence. He immediately picks up the telephone.
RIPLEY
Yes, I'd like you to telephone the Hotel
Goldoni. Yes. I want to speak to Signor
Thomas Ripley - No Ripley, R, yes.
Grazie.
He produces Dickie's pen and signs the blotter quickly - H R
Greenleaf. Then he pulls out a postcard from the writing
case to reveal Dickie's Stars, hide your fires handwriting
specimen. He compares the two signatures, is pleased.
The telephone rings.
RIPLEY (cont'd)
Pronto? Signor Ripley is not there? I'd
like to leave a message. Yes. Please call
Dickie - Dickie Greenleaf - at the Grand.
INT. RIPLEY'S HOTEL ROOM, GOLDONI. DAY.
A tiny, cell of a room, single bed. Ripley on the phone.
RIPLEY
He's not there? Very well. I'll leave a
message - Got your call. Dinner tonight
sounds fine. Ripley.
(listens as it's read back)
Dinner tonight, yes, is okay. Yes, thank
you.
INT. GUCCI STORE, ROME. DAY.
Ripley has bought some more LEATHER GOODS - a briefcase and
overnight bag. He is at the counter, signing checks.
RIPLEY
I'd like these to have my initials -
embossed, I don't know the word in
Italian ...embossed?
GUCCI ASSISTANT
Embossed, of course, Signor Greenleaf.
There's an excited rap on the window and a shout of DICKIE!
Shocked, Ripley looks over to find MEREDITH LOGUE outside,
alone and delighted to see him. He grins and mouths hello.
MEREDITH
(entering the shop)
Dickie! Oh my God! Ciao.
EXT. ACROSS PIAZZA NAVONA TO ARCARI'S CAFE. DAY.
Ripley and Meredith walk across the Piazza towards the cafe.
MEREDITH
But you're going skiing with us Yankees,
aren't you?
RIPLEY
What?
MEREDITH
At Christmas. To Cortina with Freddie
Miles and -
RIPLEY
(interrupting, astonished)
How did you know that?
MEREDITH
Everybody knows Freddie Miles.
RIPLEY
(unsettled)
Is Freddie in Rome?
MEREDITH
Now? I don't think so. But I've met him,
of course, and we've chatted and I know
about you and Marge and Mongi and what an
unreliable rat you are. Freddie said you
were a rat and I thought to myself now I
know why he travels under R.
RIPLEY
I've left Marge, Meredith. And Mongi. So
the rat's here now, in Rome.
MEREDITH
Sorry, I wouldn't have made a joke if -
RIPLEY
Don't be sorry. I've never been happier.
I feel like I've been handed a new life.
EXT. AMERICAN EXPRESS OFFICE, ROME. DAY.
Meredith and Ripley walk down the Spanish Steps and head
inside the office.
MEREDITH
The truth is if you've had money your
entire life, even if you despise it,
which we do - agreed? - you're only truly
comfortable around other people who have
it and despise it.
RIPLEY
I know.
MEREDITH
I've never admitted that to anyone.
INT. AMERICAN EXPRESS OFFICE, ROME. DAY.
Ripley's signing Dickie's allowance receipt. Meredith is with
him, signing her own counterfoil. He is, of course, endorsed
by her presence. She goes to the window ahead of him.
She takes her money, turns to him.
He hands over his documents. The Clerk compares Ripley's
signature with the one on the passport and then looks up at
him. Ripley is cool as a cucumber.
RIPLEY
I don't want too many large bills. Nobody
will change them.
INT. RIPLEY'S SUITE, GRAND. ANOTHER DAY.
Where A TAILOR is finishing the fitting of a cashmere jacket
for Ripley. Bolts of cloth everywhere as Meredith adjudicates
the possible materials, which the tailor holds up against
Ripley.
MEREDITH
Show me the other one again.
(the Tailor obliges)
I like them both.
RIPLEY
I'll take them both.
Ripley goes inside the bedroom to change. While he's inside,
Meredith shows the Tailor out. As she returns she notices
the open sax case, peers inside.
