Original subtitles

[narrator] If I could just go back.

If I could rub everything out,

starting with myself.

Starting with borrowing a jacket.

♪ Oh, such fleeting paradise ♪

♪ Such innocent delight ♪

♪ To love ♪

♪ Be loved ♪

♪ A lullaby ♪

♪ Then silence ♪

-[woman] Frances, that was lovely. -[Fran] I'm so glad. Thank you.

-[man] Congratulations, lady. Just great. -[Fran] Thank you.

-Lovely, my dear. -Marvelous. Marvelous. Most enjoyable.

Herbert Greenleaf. My wife, Emily.

Thank you. Tom Ripley.

-How do you do? -You were at Princeton.

Most likely you'll know our son, Dick. Dickie Greenleaf.

[Emily] I couldn't help noticing your jacket.

[Herbert] Yes.

Class of '56.

How is Dickie?

[Fran] Oh, we've really enjoyed meeting you.

Well, I do hope that you'll come out and see us.

-Thank you. That's very kind. -Both of you.

-Herbert? -Yes, yes. I very much hope so.

Of course, Dickie's idea of music is jazz.

-[chuckles] Oh, dear. -He has a saxophone.

To my ear, jazz is just noise.

Just an insolent noise.

-It was very nice to meet you. -And you.

-Sir. -We'll see you at the shipyard.

-I hope to. Okay. -Good.

I have to run! I'm very late!

-Ah, you were great! -You were great.

Darling couple, aren't they?

Yes, they are. Exceptional young man.

-Thanks a lot for the jacket. -Thanks for filling in for me.

Take care of that wrist. Bye, Fran.

[soft piano music playing]

[man] Believe me. Buy IBM now, before it splits.

You'll make yourself a fortune.

-[man 2] You think so? -You do that. Yes.

[indistinct chatter]

Sorry. Sorry.

I know. Sorry.

[Herbert] You've probably heard Dickie's been living in Italy.

Mongibello, south of Naples.

No kind of place at all.

-[Frank] Good morning, sir. -Frank.

Marge, his, um, young lady,

is supposedly writing some kind of book.

God only knows what he does.

By all accounts, they spend the whole time on the beach or in a sailboat.

That's my son's talent, spending his allowance.

Could you ever conceive of going to Italy, Tom?

Persuade my son to come home?

[Herbert] I'd pay you.

A thousand dollars.

Well, I have always wanted to go to Europe, sir, but…

Good.

Now you can go for a reason.

[man scatting]

[jazz music playing on record player]

[Tom] Count Basie.

Duke Ellington? I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

Dizzy Gillespie.

-[slow jazz song playing] -♪ My funny valentine ♪

[Tom] "My Funny Valentine."

-[couple arguing loudly next door] -♪ Sweet, funny valentine… ♪

[Tom] I don't even know if this is a man or a woman.

-[arguing continues] -[smashing and clattering]

♪ You make me smile with my heart… ♪

[different jazz song playing]

Charlie Parker?

Charlie Parker! I know it. It's "Bird."

Yes!

-[song ends] -[groans]

[soft classical music playing]

-Here. I'll take it. -Thanks.

That 1,000 bucks should come in handy.

-Yes, sir. -I'll get that.

-Thank you. -Sir.

-[Tom chuckles] -You're gonna have a great trip.

Mr. Greenleaf is personal friends with the Cunard people.

[German opera playing]

I can tell you, the Greenleaf name opens a lot of doors.

[ship horn blowing]

[seagulls squawking]

[man speaking Italian over PA]

[Tom] English?

-Do you speak English? -[porter] Si. What you name, please?

-Ripley. -Follow me. No problem.

-Here, Signor Ripley. -Okay.

Uh, there. That one.

-This one. -[woman] Wait, is that all? Counted them?

[porter] Attenzione.

-Just one suitcase, Signor Ripley? -Si.

[porter] Attenzione.

[woman] Oh, Customs.

[man speaking Italian]

[speaking in Italian]

-What's your secret? -Excuse me?

No, it's just that… You are American, aren't you?

No. No, it's just that… [chuckles]

I have so much luggage, and you're so, um, streamlined.

It's, you know, humiliating.

[speaking in Italian]

I'm Meredith, by the way.

Hello, uh, Dickie.

Meredith Randall.

Um, Dickie Greenleaf.

Hello.

You're not the shipping Greenleafs?

Oh, trying not to be.

Trying to jump ship.

So, now, uh, did they put your cases in the wrong pile?

It's just that, uh, you were in the "R" stand.

Well, I thought I saw you there.

My father wants me back in New York.

He builds boats. I'd rather sail them.

So I travel under my mother's name.

-Which is… -Emily.

-I'm just kidding. -[laughs]

You know, the funny thing is,

I'm not Randall either.

I'm Logue.

-As in-- -As in the textile Logues.

Trying to shrug off the dress.

-I travel under my mother's name, too. -[Tom] Randall.

[chuckles] Right.

-[Meredith] So, Rome, Rome, Rome. -[Tom] Oh.

[Meredith chuckles]

-We're partners in disguise. Bye. -[Tom laughs] Bye.

[woman shouts in Italian]

[driver singing in Italian]

[chattering in Italian]

[chickens clucking]

[both men singing in Italian]

[indistinct chatter in Italian continues]

[driver continues singing]

-[bus drives away] -[women chattering]

[Tom practicing Italian]

"The fiancée has a face."

[continues practicing Italian]

[continues practicing Italian]

[continues practicing Italian]

Bird.

"This is my face."

[reading out Italian]

[Marge] So I guess you didn't look at my new chapter.

[Dickie] I will, Marge. I promise.

It's just been too hot.

[Marge] If I make dinner at my place tonight,

-maybe you could look at it then. -Dickie Greenleaf?

Who's that?

It's Tom. Tom Ripley.

Tom Ripley?

-We were at Princeton together. -[Dickie] Okay.

Did we know each other?

Hello. Well, I knew you, so…

[chuckles] I suppose you must have known me.

Princeton's like a fog.

-America's like a fog. -[chuckles]

This is Marge Sherwood. Tom… Sorry, what is it?

-Ripley. -[Marge] How do you do?

[Tom] How do you do, Marge?

-What are you doing in Mongi? -Nothing. [chuckles]

Nothing much.

[Tom] Just passing through.

-[chuckling] Passing through? -[Tom] Yeah.

You're so white.

Did you ever see a guy so white, Marge? [snickering]

Gray, actually.

-It's just an undercoat. -[Marge laughs]

-[Dickie] Say again? -You know, a primer.

That's funny.

Margie likes that 'cause she's so white, too.

Yes, I do, and you're not funny.

You should come and have lunch with us before you go.

-Yes, Dickie? -Sure, anytime.

Well…

Coincidence.

-I don't remember him. -[chuckles]

That's so funny.

[Dickie] Silvana! Hey!

I've been looking all over for you.

Where've you been hiding?

-Yeah, today you're looking for me. -Huh?

-Where you been the rest of the week? -You're always working.

-Porco. -[Dickie] C'mon. Get on.

[Silvana] With the American girl?

-Huh? Hold on to me. -I hate you.

-[Dickie] Huh? -[Silvana] I hate you!

[Marge] Did you suddenly forget where I lived?

I know, I'm late. I'm a swine.

-It's four o'clock. -I just woke up.

-Oh. [scoffs] -I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

-You just woke up. -Fausto and I, we took the boat out.

We were fishing, and then it was dawn, and we'd caught absolutely nothing.

Mm, yes, well, [chuckles] we ate everything without you.

-"We"? -Yes.

-Tom Ripley's here. -Who?

-Tom. -[Tom] Hi.

Hello.

-Hello. -[Dickie] How are you?

Thought you'd disappeared. We were gonna send out a search party.

[Tom chuckles] No.

No, still here.

Tom was telling me about his journey over.

Made me laugh so hard I almost got a nosebleed.

Is that good?

[whispers] Shut up.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm despicable. But I love you.

-[Dickie] Do you love me? Do you love me? -I'm intruding.

Can you mix a martini?

Sure.

[sighs] I'll do it.

Oh.

I make a fabulous martini.

[Tom and Marge laughing]

Everybody should have one talent. What's yours?

Forging signatures, uh…

telling lies,

impersonating practically anybody.

That's three.

Nobody should have more than one talent.

Okay, do an impression.

-Now? -Yeah.

[mimicking Mr. Greenleaf] The only talent my son has

is for cashing his allowance.

-What? -Oh, I like to sail.

Believe me, I love to sail.

-Instead, I make boats. -[Dickie] Stop!

-Other people sail them. -It's too much!

You're making all the hairs on my neck stand up.

Oh, yes. Jazz. Oh, jazz. Let's face it.

It's just, uh… It's just insolent noise.

I feel like he's here!

Horrible, like the old bastard's here right now.

Good.

That's brilliant.

-Brilliant! -[Tom chuckles]

-How do you know him? -Oh, I met him in New York.

Marge! Marge, this is scary.

You've got to hear this.

Meet my father, Herbert Richard Greenleaf the First.

Pleasure to meet you. Dickie's made a fine catch.

-Uncanny! -I know Emily thinks so.

-I don't get it. -It's uncanny.

Could you ever conceive of going to Italy, Tom,

and, uh, bringing him back?

What?

I'd pay you if you would go to Italy,

persuade my son to come home,

I'd pay you $1,000.

[softly] What?

[Dickie] I'm never going back.

To actually hire somebody to come all the way here

to drag me back home…

Got to be a little insane, doesn't he?

-Ciao, Fausto. -[chatting in Italian]

-Ciao, Silvana. -Ciao.

-This is Tom. -Ciao, Tom.

-Ciao. -Ciao, Greenleaf.

-I'm never going back. -No, I think…

Your mother, her illness, I think that's…

It's got nothing to do with my mother.

She's had leukem-- This is what makes me boil about him.

He wants me back. He wants me back.

-It's got nothing to do with my mother. -[Tom] Look, Dickie.

-I don't know. I just-- -[Dickie] 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.

[sniffs]

-Hi, Tom. -[Tom] Hi!

[Dickie] Marge! Tom's saying goodbye.

[Marge] Oh, I'll come down.

So, uh, did you speak to my father?

Oh, you were right. About the telephones.

-[Dickie] I told you. -There are no lines.

-There's some problem. -[Dickie] That's Italy.

Tom. You're off? What are your plans?

Oh, back, I suppose, as slow as I can. Oh!

-This bag! -[Marge] Oh!

[Tom groans]

Hey… You like jazz.

I love jazz.

[Dickie] Oh!

This is the best.

Baker, Rollins.

Marge says she likes jazz, but she thinks Glenn Miller's jazz.

-I never said that! -[Tom] Bird.

That's jazz.

"Bird"? Ask me the name of my sailboat.

I don't know. What's the name of your sailboat?

Look! Look! Bird!

[Marge] Which is ridiculous. Boats are female.

Everyone knows you can't call a boat after a man.

He's not a man. He's a god.

Okay, we're going to Naples. There's a club…

-It's not a club, it's a cellar. -[scoffs] It's vile.

[Dickie] Yes, it's vile. Don't worry. You don't have to come. It's great.

It's great. You're gonna love it.

[jazz band playing]

[audience chattering]

-[woman] Ciao. -How are you?

-[music ends] -[audience applauding]

[man] Ooh!

[singing in Italian]

-That'd be cool. -Bring him up.

[speaking in Italian]

Tom Ripley!

[audience cheering]

Come on! Get on up here!

-Yeah! -[singing in Italian]

I'll tell you when to join the chorus.

Come on.

Okay. Together!

[singing together in Italian]

[singing rapidly]

[audience cheering and applauding]

[Dickie] I bumped into an old friend from Princeton,

-a fellow called Tom Ripley. -[keyboard clacking]

He says he's going to haunt me until I agree

to go back to New York

with him.

Afternoon.

What time is it?

-Oh, God. -"Go back to New York with him."

-Here… -You always type your letters?

-That should be two "T"s. -I can't write, and I can't spell.

It's the privilege of a first-class education.

Your room's upstairs at the back.

I think Ermelinda made up the bed. Ermelinda!

[both speaking Italian]

-This is so good of you. -Don't say it again.

Now that you're a double agent and we're gonna string my dad along,

what if we were to buy a car with your expense money?

-Okay. -Great.

-Hello, Tom. -Hello.

Marge, Marge, what do you think?

Little Cinquecento with my dad's money?

Oh, please, Dickie. You can't even drive a car.

[Tom chuckles] You can't even drive.

[Marge] What we need urgently, Tom, is an icebox. What do you think?

Agree with me and I'll be your friend for life.

I absolutely agree with Marge.

Hmm.

Icebox. Icebox.

[bell tolling]

[Marge] So, what, is he gonna move in with you?

It'll just be for a little while.

He can be… He makes me laugh.

-[Marge] Okay, darling. -[Dickie] Promise you'd say?

-No, I like him. -Marge, you like everybody.

[Marge chuckles] Don't like you.

[Dickie] Then I'll go to your place and you can move in with Tom.

[Tom imitating Marge] I like him.

[imitating Dickie] Marge, you like everybody.

[imitating Marge] No, I like him.

[imitating Dickie] Marge, you like everybody.

Now you'll find out why Miss Sherwood always shows up for breakfast, Tom.

It's not love. It's my coffee machine.

[Marge] Ever since Ermelinda showed him how to make his own espresso,

he feels like quite the grownup.

-[Dickie] I bought the coffee machine. -[Marge] Oh, darling, is that for me?

[Dickie] This is for Tom, because he didn't complain.

-[Tom] That ring is superb. -[Dickie chuckles]

[gasps] Oh, Tom, I love you. See?

[Marge] Ooh!

I had to promise, capital "P," never to take it off.

Otherwise, I'd give it to you.

Isn't it great? I found it in Naples.

I had to bargain for it for about two weeks.

I hope it wasn't cheap, Marge.

Oh, it was.

[chuckles]

I have to get a birthday present for Frances, so perhaps you could help me.

-Who's Frances? -My fiancée.

[clears throat] Engaged?

[Dickie] You're a dark horse, Ripley.

-Who is she? -Your parents met her.

Oh, God.

[groans] I can just imagine.

"If only Dickie would settle down.

Doesn't every parent deserve a grandchild?"

Oh, God.

Never. Never.

I swear on your ring, Marge, I'm never going back.

-[Tom] Say when to pull. -[Dickie] Pull now. Pull.

It's not pulling. I'm doing it wrong.

[Marge chuckles]

-[Dickie] Better now, huh? -Okay, okay, okay.

We'll make a sailor of you yet.

You're doing really well.

-[laughs] -Shh!

-All right. Bar's open. -Yes, please.

-Hey, can we sail to Venice? -Sure. I love Venice.

"See Venice and die." Isn't that right? Or is it Rome?

-Is it Rome? -I have to see Venice.

You do something and die, don't you? Okay. Venice is on the list.

And Rome.

Do you ski?

[both chuckling]

Ah, no, no. Don't tell me.

You're a lost cause. That's the next thing to deal with.

Christmas, we're planning a skiing trip to Cortina.

Excellent skiing. Excellent.

-Marge. Margie. -[Marge] Yes?

[Dickie] Unbelievable. Tom can't ski either.

-We'll have to teach him that, too. -Thank you.

-Grazie. -[Marge] There you go.

[Dickie] Such low class, Marge. Does this guy know anything?

It's a good thing we're not getting married soon.

We'd have to invite Tom on our honeymoon.

[Marge] Oh, I hated New York. That whole Park Avenue crowd.

So I fled to Paris to work on my book.

And I was always going to this cafe in Montmartre with Jean-Jacques.

And Dickie would play "My Funny Valentine."

It was only later that I found out he only knows about six songs.

Anyway, I looked forward to seeing him, I suppose.

[speaking in Italian]

[men chattering in Italian]

[all groaning]

[all exclaiming]

Hey, hey, Signor Greenleaf!

If you're not at my place by seven o'clock,

Tom and I are running off together.

-Okay, fine. -[man] Oh, Dickie!

-[sings indistinctly] -[Tom laughing]

[Marge chuckles]

Ho! Hold on. Hold on.

[Dickie singing] ♪ Silvana, Silvana ♪

♪ You make me smile ♪

-[Silvana] I need to talk to you. -[Dickie] Smile.

[Dickie sings indistinctly]

-[Dickie] You're breaking my ribs! -[Tom] What?

[Dickie] You're breaking my ribs!

[band playing slow jazz]

♪ But don't change a hair for me ♪

♪ Not if you care for me ♪

♪ Stay, little valentine ♪

♪ Stay ♪

[saxophone playing]

♪ Each day is Valentine's Day ♪

[groans, kisses]

I could fuck this icebox, I love it so much.

So, what did you actually do in New York?

Played piano in a few places. I told you.

Well, that's one job. You told me a lot of jobs.

Few places. That's a few jobs.

The mysterious Mr. Ripley.

Marge and I spent hours speculating.

Anyway, I don't even want to think about New York.

-Are you ready? -Mm.

-[Dickie] Cold beer. Thank you, Dad. -Okay.

Copy out from here.

-You bring this with you to Europe? -[chuckles] You gonna write something?

[Dickie] I love the fact that you brought Shakespeare with you but no clothes.

Ermelinda says you wash out the same shirt every night. Is that true?

No. I have more than one shirt.

She can do that for you.

Anyway, just wear some of my stuff.

Wear anything you want. Most of it's ancient.

Now your signature.

Not Dickie! Your signature.

Without the glasses, you're not even ugly.

I don't need them because I never read.

-How do I look? -[chuckles] Like Clark Kent.

-Now Superman. -Superman.

Hmm.

-Okay. -I know.

-It's like a kid's. -[Tom] See this, the "S" and the "T"?

-[Dickie] Hmm. -Fine, vulnerable.

That's pain. That's secret pain.

Well, it must be a very deep secret, 'cause I don't know about it.

Hmm. There's nothing more naked than your handwriting.

And see how nothing's quite touching the line?

That's vanity.

Well, we certainly know that's true.

[both chuckling]

[soft jazz music playing]

[Dickie] Do you have any brothers?

[Tom] No.

No brothers, no sisters.

Me neither.

Nor does Marge.

All only children.

What does that mean?

Means we've never shared a bath.

And I'm cold. Can I get in?

No.

I didn't mean with you in it.

[Dickie] Okay.

Get in. I'm like a prune anyway.

It is me. It's an old picture.

Every time!

"Is it you? Doesn't look like you." God!

Letters. Greenleaf and for Ripley.

Ooh. Fran.

"I miss you. When are you coming home?"

"Stop telling me what an incredible time you're having."

-"How much you love Dickie…" -Whoo!

"And Marge and Mongibello."

And this one, I think, is from your father.

[Dickie scatting]

-Let me see it. What does he say? -He's getting impatient.

He wants me to reassure him that you're gonna be home by Thanksgiving.

You've got to get a new jacket. Really.

You must be sick of wearing the same clothes.

I can't. I can't keep spending your father's money.

I love how responsible you are.

My dad should make you chief accountant or something.

Or when I take over, which is never, I will.

Okay. When you take over, which is never, I'll accept.

Let me buy you a jacket.

When we get to Rome, there's a great place, Battistoni.

[softly] Battistoni.

[singing in Italian]

♪ Roma, we're taking Tom to Roma ♪

♪ We're going to a-Roma ♪

-[chattering in Italian] -[applauding]

-Buongiorno. -[woman] Buongiorno.

Nice sweater.

Where do we get a carrozza for the Forum?

-Can we just hire any of them? -Relax.

-[Tom] No, I… -Relax!

It's just there's so much to do in a single day.

The most important question is where to eat.

I hope Freddie made a reservation.

Freddie?

Freddie.

Freddie Miles.

Freddie's organizing the Cortina skiing trip.

Oh.

Oh, here he is.

[tires screech]

Frederico!

Come stai?

Bene!

[speaking Italian]

[men speaking Italian]

Oh, God, don't you want to fuck every woman you see just once?

-Only once? -Absolutely. Once. Ciao.

-Tom Ripley, Freddie Miles. -Tom.

I mean, hey, if I'm late, think what her husband's saying.

[both laughing]

-You look gorgeous. -[Freddie] As always.

-Mm. -So… Mangiare.

Si. I got us a table outside at Fabrizio's. Tommy.

[Dickie] Outstanding. I tell you,

-I'm so cabin-crazy with Mongi. -[Freddie] I know. I was there.

[band playing jazz music]

Look, Tom, we 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 now and I'll meet you at the railway station.

What club?

Freddie's arranged it with some of the skiing crowd.

Come if you want, but I thought you wanted to go sightseeing.

I do, and then maybe get the jacket and what have you.

Dick! You gotta hear this.

Listen, just take one of mine when we get back.

Don't worry about it.

[humming] Come on!

[jazz music continues playing]

Ciao. Have fun, okay?

Oh, uh…

-[Dickie humming] -[knocking]

You said to make sure you didn't miss the train.

-[Tom] Leaves at eight. -[snickers]

[Dickie] Have a good time.

See ya, Tommy.

[indistinct chatter in Italian]

[wolf whistle]

[soft jazz music playing]

[train conductor blows whistle]

[man speaking Italian]

[record playing] ♪ If I were sure That I meant anything to her ♪

♪ I'd be brave and here's the song I'd bring to her ♪

♪ I'd sing to her ♪

[singing along] ♪ May I be the only one ♪

♪ To say I ♪

♪ Really fell in love the day I ♪

♪ First set eyes on you? ♪

-♪ May I… ♪ -[Dickie] What are you doing?

[music stops]

Oh. I was just amusing myself.

Sorry.

I wish you'd get out of my clothes.

Do you have my shoes on, too?

You said I could pick out a jacket, so…

Could you get undressed in your own room?

Thought you missed the train.

[Dickie] Freddie drove me back in his car.

-Is Freddie here? -He's downstairs.

I was just fooling around.

Don't say anything.

[Tom] I was just fooling around.

Sorry.

[Freddie] God… A corduroy jacket in Italy.

-[Marge] Good morning, Tom. -Morning.

-[chuckles] -Come join us.

[Freddie] Hey.

You know, I want this job of yours, Tommy.

I was just saying, you live in Italy,

you stay at Dickie's house, you eat Dickie's food,

you wear his clothes,

and his father picks up the tab. [chuckles]

Uh, if you get bored, you let me know, 'cause I'll do it.

[laughing]

[Freddie] I'll do it.

[Dickie] To the mainland!

[Marge] You really should go in. It's marvelous.

I'm fine.

[Dickie shouting]

[indistinct chattering and laughing]

Are you okay?

Sure.

Well…

The thing with Dickie…

It's like the sun shines on you, and it's glorious.

And then he forgets you and it's very, very cold.

So I'm learning.

When you have his attention, you feel like you're the only person in the world.

That's why everybody loves him.

It's always the same. Whenever someone new comes into his life…

Freddie, Fausto, Peter Smith-Kingsley…

He's wonderful. Have you met him?

Especially you.

And that's just the boys. [sighs]

[Dickie and Freddie shouting]

Come get him! Come get him!

Tell me, why is it that when men play, they always play at killing each other?

[Dickie] He's drowning me! He's drowning me!

I'm sorry about Cortina, by the way.

What about Cortina?

Didn't… Didn't… Didn't Dick say?

[sighs]

He spoke to Freddie, and…

And apparently, it's not going to work out.

[Marge] Well, it's because everyone else can ski,

and it affects where you stay…

[Dickie] Come on, Freddie.

At least stick around for the festival of the Madonna.

-The whole town comes out… -[Freddie] I don't think so.

[Freddie] I have my own, uh, Madonna back in Rome.

Why don't you come back with me?

A lot of ladies. Ooh.

[chuckles]

-Oh, God. -You want to take over?

Mm. Yeah, sure.

Just point her at Capri. Avoid the rocks.

Where you going?

Mm… Marge maintenance.

Aye-aye.

[gentle music playing]

[Dickie chuckling]

[Dickie and Marge murmuring]

-[Marge] Don't… -[Dickie moaning]

[scoffs]

[Dickie and Marge moaning]

-[Marge] Dickie… -[Dickie moaning]

[Freddie] Tommy.

How's the peeping?

Tommy,

how's the peeping?

[Freddie chuckles]

Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy.

[chanting hymn in Italian]

[audience applauding]

[singing hymn in Italian]

[ominous music playing]

[screaming]

Silvana!

[woman shouting]

[man] Silvana!

[people wailing]

[speaking Italian]

[screaming]

Is someone getting an ambulance?

[groans]

[shouts] Is someone getting an ambulance?

-[wailing] -[shouting in Italian]

[people praying]

[bell tolling]

[yelling in Italian]

What's the fight about? That's her fiancé, isn't it?

I don't know. Why are you asking me?

[Tom] Well, are they blaming him?

How can it take an hour to find an ambulance?

She was already dead, darling, wasn't she? So I suppose…

I don't know why people say this country is civilized.

-Dickie! -It isn't. It's fucking primitive.

I'll go see what's the matter.

I'll go.

[people wailing in the background]

[Dickie playing saxophone]

[Tom] I know why you're upset.

I know about Silvana, Dickie.

I know about you and Silvana.

What about us?

[yells] You don't have to clean up! Really!

-Like what? -Forget it.

She was pregnant. Did you know that?

Silvana was pregnant.

Do you know what that means in a place like this?

I'm prepared to take the blame.

What are you talking about?

You've been so good to me.

You're the brother I never had.

I'm the brother you never had.

I would do anything for you, Dickie.

She came to me for help.

She needed money.

I didn't help her.

I didn't help her.

Now she's drowned herself, and it's my fault.

I'm not going to say anything.

To Marge, to the police, or anybody.

It's a secret between us, Dickie.

And I'll keep it.

[Tom] "Dear Tom, in view of the fact Dickie shows no more signs of coming home

than before you went…"

Blah, blah, blah, um…

"I hope that the trip has afforded you some pleasure,

despite the failure of its main objective.

You no longer should consider yourself obligated to us in any way."

Can't blame him.

You could hardly expect this to go on forever, Tom.

Well, you can write again.

-Especially now we're brothers. -I can't.

How can I, in all decency?

[Dickie] You said it yourself. It's my dad's money you're spending.

We've had a great run though, haven't we?

Well, we'll still go to Venice.

We could stick to that plan.

I don't think so, Tom.

You can't pay your own way, can you?

It's time we all moved on.

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.

It would be great, though, if you came with me to San Remo.

There's a great jazz festival. We could say goodbye in style.

What do you think?

Our last trip!

Sure.

[soft music playing]

-[knocking] -[man speaking in Italian]

Why do you do that thing with your neck?

[titters] What thing?

On trains, you always do that thing.

[whispers] Spooky.

Spook-k-k-k-k-k-k… [imitating cymbal playing]

Spooky.

[cymbals playing]

[band playing jazz music]

Oh!

Didn't I tell you San Remo was crazy?

This is more like it! Come on!

[music ends]

[band plays another jazz song]

Grazie.

To Mongibello, and the happiest days of my life.

To Mongi. You're cheerful tonight.

I'm suddenly quite happy to be going back.

Did I know you at Princeton, Tom?

I don't think I did, did I?

-Why are you asking all of a sudden? -No reason.

Because you're leaving, I guess.

I don't think you were there.

Why?

I mean it as a compliment.

You've got such great taste.

Most of the thugs at Princeton had tasted everything and had no taste.

I used to say, "The cream of America, rich and thick."

Freddie's the perfect example.

Then I'll take it as a compliment.

I knew it! I knew it.

Marge and I had a bet.

[jazz music continues playing]

Do you even like jazz?

-Or was that for my benefit? -[drum solo begins]

I've gotten to like it.

Oh, yes!

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…

I'm thinkin' of givin' up the sax.

What do you think about the drums?

-What? -So cool.

I'm gonna rent a boat tomorrow, take a look around.

[Dickie] This is how I found my place in Mongi.

Took a boat out…

Around the bay.

First thing I liked,

I got it.

-[Dickie] Whoa! Whoo-hoo! -[Tom] Come on, Dickie. Don't go crazy.

-Dickie, slow down! -[Dickie laughing] Hold on!

No, wait a minute! It's gonna tip! Oh, God, no!

Stop! Stop it! It's not funny! It's not funny.

It's not funny. Stop it!

[Dickie shouts] Beautiful! Whoo!

Oh, I love it here!

I love it here! I'm gonna move here!

Beautiful.

[imitating cymbal percussion]

I want to tell you my plan.

God…

-Ow! -[Dickie] So tell me.

Well, I thought I'd come back in the new year

under my own steam.

-Really? To Italy? -Of course.

And I figured, now, just for argument's sake,

say I got a place.

Or say we split the rent on a house,

I could get a job, or, better still, if I got a place in Rome,

and then when we're there, we could be there,

then when we're here, we could be here.

-Uh, I don't think so. -See, particularly with the Marge problem.

You just blame me.

Marge and I are getting married.

How?

How?

Yesterday, you were ogling girls on the terrace.

Today, you're getting married? That's absurd.

I love Marge.

You love me. You're not marrying me.

-Tom, I don't love you. -No, I don't mean that as a threat.

To be honest, I'm… I'm a little relieved you're going.

I think we've seen enough of each other for a while.

-What? -You can be a leech!

You know that!

[Dickie] And…

It's boring.

You can be quite boring.

[mournful music playing]

The funny thing is, I'm not pretending to be somebody else, and you are.

-Boring. -I've been absolutely honest with you…

-about my feelings. -Boring.

But you… First of all, I know there's something.

That evening, when we played chess, for instance, it was obvious.

What evening?

Oh, sure. No, no. It's too dangerous for you to take on.

Oh, no, no. What? We're brothers.

Hey!

And then you do this sordid thing with Marge,

fucking her on the boat, while we all have to listen…

-[chuckles] -Which was excruciating.

And you follow your cock around like a…

And now you're getting married.

No, I'm bewildered. Forgive me.

You're lying to Marge and then you're getting married to her.

You're knocking up Silvana.

You're ruining everybody…

You wanna play the sax. You wanna play the drums.

Which is it, Dickie? What do you actually play?

[grunts]

Who are you? Huh?

Some third-class mooch? Who are you?

Who are you to say anything to me?

-Stop! -Who are you to tell me anything?

Actually, I really, really do not want to be on this boat with you.

-I can't move without you moving. -Shut up.

-Shut up. -It gives me the creeps.

-You give me the creeps. -You shut up!

I can't move without "Dickie, Dickie, Dickie," like a little girl all the time.

Shut up!

groans]

Oh, God, Dickie.

-[weakly] God's sake. -Oh… Oh, God!

Okay, okay.

We have to get you-- Okay…

[screaming]

-I'm gonna kill you! Kill you! -[groans] Dickie!

-[Tom choking] -[grunts] You're dead!

[grunting loudly]

[yells] You're dead!

[choking]

[Dickie screaming]

-[grunts] -No!

Stop! Stop! Please, Dickie! Please!

[screaming]

Stop it! [groans]

-Stop! -[grunting]

-Dickie, let-- -Kill you!

-[Tom] Stop it! -[grunts]

-Give me that! -No!

-Stop! -[grunting]

-[Tom] Stop! -[groans]

-[Tom] Stop! -[groans]

[screams] Stop!

[panting] Stop! Stop! Stop!

[Tom panting]

[seagulls cawing]

[groans]

[mournful music playing]

[grunts]

-Hi. Can I have my key, please? -Of course.

You must be very cold. Uh, Signor Greenleaf, yes?

No. I'm…

[Tom] Hello, Marge.

[gasps, screams, sighs]

Tom! [laughs]

You startled me!

-Sorry. -You're back!

How are you?

-Your book going well? -Yes.

I'm on a good streak, thank you.

I was just looking at you.

-So quiet. -[chuckles]

Where's Dickie?

I think he's planning on staying in Rome for a few days.

Rome?

Ah. Did he say why?

I don't understand Dickie. Your guess is as good as mine.

Well, what does that mean?

Oh, one day I'm invited skiing, the next day I'm not.

One day, we're one family, then the next day he wants to be alone.

You tell me.

Is that what he said? He wants to be alone?

He was thinking of you. He asked me to deliver this.

Thank you. [chuckles]

[Marge] He knows I love this.

-But why it couldn't have waited, I… -Errand number one.

Deliver Marge's perfume.

Errand number two, um…

Pack some clothes and his precious saxophone.

Well, how long is he staying for?

Search me.

I guess we're abandoned.

[seagulls squawking]

-[clattering] -[Marge] God damn it!

[Tom] Are you okay?

[sighs]

There was a letter from Dickie in with my perfume.

You realize it's more than just a few days.

He's thinking of moving to Rome. [sniffles]

The thing is,

the night before he left, we…

We talked about moving together…

Somewhere north, and I suppose I…

[sniffles]

…put some pressure on him about getting married.

I just…

I just might have scared him off. [sighs]

There's a side to him

when our heads are on the pillow,

I know no one else sees, that's so tender.

I just think I should come with you to Rome and confront him.

He hates being confronted.

I think you're right.

[indistinct chatter]

Grazie. Checking in.

[Tom] Checking in.

-Signor Ripley? -It's me.

[receptionist] Signor Greenleaf.

Of course. Welcome back.

Thank you.

[female phone operator] Pronto?

[Tom] Yes, I'd like to telephone the Hotel Goldoni.

[operator] Goldoni. Si, Signor Greenleaf.

-[Tom] I want to speak to Thomas Ripley. -[operator] Ripley?

-Yes. Grazie. -Subito.

[phone buzzes]

-Pronto. -[operator] Signor Greenleaf,

Signor Ripley's not there.

-He's not there? -No, signor.

Well, I would like to leave a message.

He's not there?

-[male operator] No, signor. -Uh, I'll leave a message.

-Got your call… -[operator] Got your call…

-Dinner tonight… -Dinner tonight…

-Sounds fine. -Sounds fine.

-Ripley. -[operator] Ripley.

Ripley.

-Dickie Greenleaf. -[female operator] Dickie Greenleaf.

-Yes. Greenleaf. -[female operator] Greenleaf.

At the Grand.

[Tom] And I'd like to have this wallet embossed.

I don't know the word in Italian.

Embossed. Of course, Signor Greenleaf.

Thank you.

Dickie! Uh, it's me…

-Oh, my gosh. -[chuckling] Meredith.

-Ciao! -Ciao. Come in. come in.

[Meredith] But you're going skiing with those Yankees, aren't you?

-[Tom] What? -At Christmas.

To Cortina.

-With Freddie Miles. -How did you know that?

Oh! Everybody knows Freddie Miles.

Is Freddie in Rome?

-Now? -Yeah.

Oh, I don't think so.

But I… But I've met him, of course, and we've chatted.

And…

I know about you and Marge in Mongi.

What an unreliable rat you are.

Well, uh, Freddie said you were a rat.

And I thought to myself,

"Ah, now I know why he travels under 'R'."

I've left Marge, Meredith.

And Mongi.

-So, the rat's here in Rome. -Oh, I'm sorry.

-Oh, don't be sorry, no. -I would not have made a joke…

I've never been happier.

I… I feel like I've been handed a new life.

The truth is that if you've had money your entire life,

either you despise it, which we do, agreed?

You're only truly comfortable around other people

who have it and despise it.

I know.

I've never admitted that to anyone.

[chattering in Italian]

[Meredith] No, because my friend Mr. Greenleaf, Signor Greenleaf and I,

-are on a little spending spree. -[man] I see.

[Meredith] We're behaving very badly. [laughs]

Oh, I love Italian money. So darling. Doesn't make you feel guilty.

Grazie.

Thank you.

I don't want too many large bills. No one will change them.

Tutto bene, Signor Greenleaf.

[counting in Italian]

[chatting in Italian]

-I really like this, too. -I think I'm having that, too.

[all speaking in Italian]

-Tomorrow. [laughs] -Thank you. Si. Si.

[speaking in Italian]

-Arrivederci. -Arrivederci. Oops! [laughs]

-[Meredith] Ciao. -[tailor] Ciao.

I know you're a jazz fiend, but do you absolutely hate the opera?

I've…

I've…

been trying to give my tickets away.

It's tomorrow, but if you were prepared to be dragged…

You could drag me.

[singing opera in Russian]

[rousing violin music playing]

[opera singing continues]

[gun clicks]

[tense violin music playing]

[gunshot]

[opera singing continues]

[tense music playing]

[audience applauding]

Feodor Chaliapin. He's an old Russian baritone.

Thank you so much for inviting me tonight.

Can you bear it?

We hear you are a friend of Freddie's.

He has "I hate opera" tattooed on his chest.

[scoffs] There's room for a whole libretto on Freddie's chest.

[women chuckling]

I'm sure we've met before.

I was sure we'd met before. Weren't you, Ted?

Dick is Herbert Greenleaf's boy.

-I know. -Yes, I think we have.

One minute you people are children, and the next you're getting tattooed.

-Cheers. -Cheers.

Cheers.

-Excuse me. -Prego.

Oh! Excuse me.

Hello.

Hello.

-Tom! -Marge!

How are you? What are you doing in Rome?

Is he here? Are you with Dickie?

No. Um, no.

Um, hello.

Um, I'm Tom Ripley.

Peter Smith-Kingsley. I've heard all about you from Marge and Dickie.

-Ditto. -No… no glasses.

So, where are you hiding him? He's impossible, isn't he?

Is he really not here?

Well, Marge, you know Dickie has "I hate opera" tattooed on his chest.

I thought you were going to Venice.

Yes, what happened with that?

I heard you were desperate to come.

I was rather looking forward to rowing you around.

-[bell buzzing] -Uh, I am.

Um, I really am.

I've been traveling, and I just can't seem to get that far north.

Well, you should hurry, before we sink.

Uh, look, let me give you a telephone number.

There. Oh, look, there's Meredith. Meredith.

What's her name, Marge? The textile people.

Um, come on. Some of us spent Christmas at her house.

I don't… I don't know her.

He hasn't called.

-Oh. -He's hardly written.

Just these cryptic notes, you know?

You don't just dump people.

-[bell rings] -Look, will we see you later,

or are you with people?

Oh, I can't later.

Well, how about tomorrow?

Yes, uh, maybe in the morning?

Do you know Cafe Dinelli at the Piazza di Spagna?

I know the Piazza di Spagna. What time?

Ten thirty?

-We'll be there. -Okay.

So I'll see you in the morning, Marge?

Ten thirty?

Very nice to meet you.

[Peter] And you.

Come on.

-Come on. Let's go back in. -Yes.

[Marge] I don't understand why Tom's still in Rome.

[whispering] Let's go.

Oh, I thought you were enjoying yourself.

Let's take a carrozza and look at the moon.

Are you crazy? It's freezing out there.

Come on. I need to talk to you. Just the two of us.

[Meredith] Okay.

[Meredith scoffs] Don't worry, please.

Don't worry.

You're such a pal to understand.

It's like Marge is here right now. I look at you,

-and I see her face. -Mm.

And I can't, no matter what I'm feeling towards you…

No, I… I absolutely…

understand.

Otherwise, you'd be fighting me off.

Beating you away. [chuckles]

[gentle classical music playing]

But will you meet me tomorrow?

Just to say good-bye properly, you know.

In the daylight, so it's not just this.

Of course, Meredith, I'm sorry. Of course I'll meet you.

You should always save pain for daylight.

Why don't we have coffee in the morning at Dinelli's?

Uh, by the Spanish Steps.

Exactly. Ten thirty?

Ten-fifteen.

-Okay. -Okay.

[bell tolling]

[waiter speaking in Italian]

[speaking in Italian]

-[Peter] Grazie. -Peter?

Hello.

It's Meredith Logue.

[Peter] Of course it is. Meredith, hello. Sorry.

-I was half asleep. How are you? -[Meredith] How are you?

This is Marge Sherwood. Meredith Logue.

How do you do?

[Peter] Do join us, won't you? We're just waiting for a friend.

[Meredith] I…

I won't, actually. I think there's…

Did we see you at the opera last night?

Uh, are you waiting for Dickie?

Dickie? [sighs]

Do you… Do you know Dickie?

You were at the opera. Oh, that explains…

Yes, I was there.

I was there with Dickie.

[sighs] I knew it.

[Marge] I told you.

Marge,

I don't know you, so I've got no right to…

Dickie loves you.

He's… Well, I think you'll find he's on his way home to you.

[sighs]

Well, how would you know that?

He told me everything.

No, I was supposed to meet him fifteen minutes ago, so, uh…

I'm gonna go now, I think.

God, unless he meant us to meet.

That'd be a little cruel, wouldn't it?

[Peter] No, no, we're meeting another friend.

-Tom Ripley. -Do you know Tom Ripley?

No, no. I've heard about him, of course, but I didn't…

meet him, no.

-[waiter speaking in Italian] -Not for me. No, grazie.

Hope I didn't complicate matters.

God, nothing, nothing…

untoward happened.

No, there is nothing to prevent you from welcoming him back,

from marrying him.

Good-bye. I'm happy to put a face to a name.

Good-bye, Peter. Please, don't get up.

[indistinct chatter in Italian]

[Marge] Now I don't know what to think.

Do you think he's coming back or what?

[Tom] Sorry. Sorry. Had to renew my papers.

Never one stamp when they can make you line up for three.

-Have you been waiting long? -Not at all.

-Morning, Tom. -Hi.

Sorry. You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost.

Dickie was at the opera last night.

I don't believe that.

-Uh, wild horses couldn't drag Dickie. -[laughs]

Well, he was there with someone, you know, so I suppose she must have dragged him.

It's not fair.

I think I'm going back to Mongi.

I think Dickie's coming home. I'm going home.

Really? Well, that's just swell. Well, I…

No, you know, you're way ahead of me. Great.

You know, that was rather moving when Meredith… I'm sorry.

Meredith is the American girl I saw at the opera last night.

She's been seeing something of Dickie.

Oh, my God.

But the point is, Dickie, and we all know this,

Dickie loves Marge.

And he misses her.

I feel guilty. Marge doesn't understand this,

but whenever Dickie does something, I feel guilty.

As if that makes sense.

[both speaking in Italian]

[both speaking in Italian]

[choir singing "Silent Night"]

[Tom playing classical music on the piano]

[knocking on the door]

[Tom continues playing the piano]

[knocking continues]

[Freddie] Dickie.

-[knocking on door] -[Freddie] Dickie, come on. It's me.

It's Freddie. Let me in.

[Freddie] Dickie.

[Tom grunting faintly]

Hello, Freddie. It's Tom.

Um…

Where's Dickie?

How are you?

I'm good. Uh, yes, thank you.

He's gone. He went to dinner.

He's at Otello's. Do you know Otello's?

No, no, no…

I don't think he's at dinner at 6:30 p.m.

If you said he was still at lunch, maybe I'd believe you.

-You know? -[both chuckling]

Incredible.

I mean, the guy just, you know, disappeared off the face of the earth.

I guess.

[Freddie] The landlady, as far as I could tell,

the landlady said he was here right now.

Search the place.

I… I just don't…

I don't know why you'd imagine that Dickie would hide from you.

Because he's been hiding from me.

What happened at Christmas?

[Tom] What about Christmas?

[Freddie] He was supposed to come skiing.

I didn't get a cable or a call or a little note or a…

Frankly, a fart.

Well, he's been very involved with his music.

Um, I think his theory

is that you have to go into a cocoon,

uh, before you can be a butterfly.

Which is horseshit.

You hear him play this thing?

Well, he can't.

How did you find him?

It's such an out-of-the-way apartment.

-Can I fix you a drink? -No, thanks.

At the American Express.

[strikes random piano keys]

Some kid.

It's, uh…

[Freddie continues striking piano keys]

Are you living here?

No, no. I'm staying here for a few days.

[strikes piano keys]

-It's a new piano. -[Freddie strikes key]

-[Tom] Probably shouldn't… -[striking keys]

-Probably shouldn't, uh… -[Freddie strikes key]

Did this place come furnished?

Because it doesn't look like Dickie's, uh…

It's really horrible.

[chuckles] Isn't it?

It's so, uh…

bourgeois.

Oh, that's a, uh, you should not… Watch that.

Excuse… [sighs] Excuse me.

Excuse me.

You know, in fact, the only thing that looks like Dickie,

is you.

-Hardly. -Hmm.

Have you done something to your hair?

Is there something you'd like to say, Freddie?

What?

-Do you have something you'd like to say? -I think I'm saying it.

Something's going on.

Either he's converted to Christianity,

or there's something else.

Well, I would suggest you ask Dickie that yourself.

Otello's is on Della Croce just off the Corso.

[sarcastically] Is it on Della Croce just off the Corso?

Sure. [laughs] You're a quick study, aren't you?

Last time, you didn't know your ass from your elbow,

now you're giving me directions.

That's not fair. You probably do know your ass from your elbow.

I'll see you.

[ominous classical music playing]

[speaking in Italian]

[Freddie] No Dickie Greenleaf. Thomas Ripley.

[speaking in Italian]

[imitates playing the piano]

Ciao, Dickie.

Yeah.

Dickie doesn't play the piano.

[Freddie] Tommy.

Tommy!

Tommy!

-[grunts] -[groans]

-[panting] -[groaning]

[groans]

-[grunts] -[groans]

[Tom grunting]

[couple speaking in Italian]

Oh! [laughs] You're making me laugh.

No. You're just so drunk. Oh. You're just…

What can you do, eh?

-You should see my other friends. -[man laughing]

-[Tom] What can you do? -[speaking in Italian]

Yes!

Such a pig.

[grunts]

-[laughs] -[speaking in Italian]

[imitating Freddie] Hey, if I'm drunk, think what her husband's saying.

[speaking Italian]

[tense music playing]

[grunting]

-La polizia. -Dickie Greenleaf?

Yes.

Inspector Roverini.

-Can we come in? -Please.

It's a terrible shock, huh?

What time did Signor Miles leave yesterday?

Oh, um, I can't be certain exactly. I…

Eight, nine…

[speaking in Italian]

We'd both taken on, uh, far too many drinks.

But it was dark, it was certainly dark, when I… when I walked him to his car.

So he drove away, and, uh, you did what?

I went to bed.

[speaking in Italian]

Freddie's a big man,

but I'm in trouble after a couple of drinks.

I've been suffering all…

Who found him?

[speaking in Italian]

You understand, I must ask you to stay in Rome, Signor Greenleaf.

Yes, if it's gonna help, certainly.

So, the doctor, he has to make the, um…

[speaking in Italian]

Autopsia.

-Postmortem. -Yeah, exactly.

But, you know, his first conclusion

was that Signor Miles was killed not later than seven o'clock yesterday evening.

Well, he certainly wasn't dead when he drove away in his car.

No.

[people speaking in Italian]

Tutto bene? Tutto okay?

-Okay? -Si, si.

Did he kill Freddie?

Marge! When did you get here?

Tell me the truth. Did he kill Freddie?

I'd swear he didn't. Of course he didn't.

[sighs]

I tried again.

Waiting here, watching for him.

Instead, it's you. Whenever I look for Dickie, I find you.

What happened to your face?

Dickie… Dickie did it.

-Dickie? -My face.

There was an argument. I…

I said some things that I shouldn't have said and…

About you. About the appalling way he's treating you, all of us.

And the next thing I know, he's launched himself at me.

-Are you getting on? -What?

Get on. I'll take you to him.

[engine revving]

[speaking in Italian]

Where does he live?

We passed it a few blocks back. It's where the police were.

The Palazzo Gioia.

Look, they don't even know I'm in Rome, and I'm not gonna incriminate Dickie.

Well, perhaps I shouldn't go either.

No, no. Well, go if you want to,

but just don't talk to the police about my face.

If they know he hit me and his temper, then he could've hit Freddie.

I'll catch up with you later.

[engine revving]

[woman] Ciao, Signor Greenleaf!

Ah, it's Signor Greenleaf! Presto, presto!

[clamoring in Italian]

[Tom] Open the door!

Open up!

Hey!

-[reporter speaking in Italian] -I live here!

Mr. Greenleaf!

Can we go up? Do you mind?

Of course.

What happened to your face?

My scooter. I fell off getting chased by photographers.

The telephone, the press, I've been… I'm feeling hounded.

Do you think you could not give out my address?

Never. We've had many requests and, of course, we say no,

even to your fiancée.

I really don't want to see anybody.

-[Roverini] Even your fiancée? -Even her.

[speaking in Italian]

[Roverini] What about Thomas Ripley?

What about Tom Ripley?

You and Signor Ripley went to San Remo. Is that right?

Yes, we, we went to San Remo. That was months ago.

-November, I thought. -Was it?

Did you speak to Tom?

November 7th is my information.

I don't remember the exact date.

When did you last see Signor Ripley?

A few days ago.

[Roverini] Does he stay with you here?

No.

[Roverini] No.

[Roverini] Here is a pattern.

Two days ago,

Freddie Miles is dead, hmm?

He leaves your apartment,

and he's murdered.

Yesterday, a little boat is found in San Remo

full of rocks.

And the owner tells the police it was stolen on November 7th.

We look at hotel records

and we see

Dickie Greenleaf is staying in San Remo.

And then our boatman remembers two Americans taking a boat.

That is not a pattern. That's a coincidence.

There must be 50 hotels in San Remo.

There were probably a hundred people renting a boat that day.

Thirty-one people.

Thirty-one people?

Hmm.

Thirty-one, yeah.

[speaking in Italian]

-Marge Sherwood. -That is Miss Sherwood now.

Let her in.

Let her in. What's the difference? Let her in.

-No! Uh, actually… Actually, no. -[Roverini] Hey!

I would… I would really appreciate it if…

If you would ask Miss Sherwood to come back later.

[speaking in Italian]

Thank you.

May I ask you...

why would you speak to your friend and not your fiancée?

Well, I… I think I just said.

Um, Mr. Ripley was handling some business for me.

Nor does Mr. Ripley want to marry me

and ask me every single day if I'll marry him and when.

Do you keep a photograph of Signor Ripley?

I'm not in the habit of carrying around photographs of my male friends.

Now I think I've upset you.

Sorry. My English, perhaps, is coarse.

It is a little coarse, yes.

I'm sorry.

But you… No one has seen Signor Ripley since San Remo.

-I have. -You have, yes.

And so has Miss Sherwood. Ask her.

And, um,

if I can remember the name of the hotel he was staying at,

um… [chuckles nervously]

The Goldoni.

Tom was staying at the Goldoni.

Goldoni.

The Goldoni. Good, good, yes, you are right.

You are right. A coincidence.

[sighs]

I look forward to our next meeting.

Hmm? When I will be more careful with my English.

[Roverini] Ah, I have a witness who thinks they saw two men

getting into Mr. Miles' car.

And she wants to identify you

in a confronto.

Lineup. Tomorrow, then?

Uh, tomorrow.

[chuckles]

[Roverini and Marge speaking in Italian]

[Roverini] He's in, but I really don't think he wants to meet anybody.

[knock on door]

Dick?

Dickie?

I know you can hear me.

[sighs]

I was gonna say that I would count to three,

and if you didn't open the door…

But I won't count anymore.

On you.

I won't count on you anymore.

Whatever it is you've done or haven't done,

you've broken my heart.

That's one thing I know you're guilty of.

And I don't know why. [sobbing]

I don't know why. I just don't know why.

[footsteps receding]

[typewriter keys clacking]

[Tom] My dear Tom, I'm getting out of this.

Freddie's death, Silvana…

I've thought about going to the police, but I can't do it.

I can't face it.

I can't face anything anymore.

I wish I could give you the life I took for granted.

You've always understood what's at the heart of me, Tom.

Marge never could.

I suppose that's why I'm writing this to you,

the brother I never had.

The only true friend I ever had.

In all kinds of ways,

you're much more like the son my father wanted.

I realize you can change the people,

change the scenery,

but you can't change your own rotten self.

Now I can't think what to do or where to go.

I'm haunted by everything I've done and can't undo.

I'm sorry.

I've made a mess of being Dickie Greenleaf, haven't I?

[ominous music playing]

[indistinct chatter in Italian]

[Peter] Tom!

I'll see you over there!

[bells tolling]

I'm so sorry to put you through this, Peter.

I just can't face going to the police by myself

when my Italian's so rotten.

Don't be so daft. It's fine.

I'm delighted you finally made it to Venice.

I'm delighted, contrary to rumor, that you're still in one piece.

-What rumor? -Oh, you know.

That Dickie murdered you and is traveling under your passport.

I know. It's ridiculous.

[shouting in Italian]

Welcome to Venice.

God, this place reeks, doesn't it? Can you smell it?

Anyway, I've got to the bottom of the delay, finally.

We're waiting for someone from Rome.

What do you mean? They've sent for someone from Rome?

Well, yes. That's good, isn't it?

No, no. I thought that didn't happen in Italy,

that each region is separate.

[Tom] I was sure that… I've read that…

Well, you've read the papers. You know what a big deal it's been.

American tourist murdered.

[Tom] Actually, can we not do this now? The stench really is…

[speaking in Italian]

[policemen speaking in Italian]

[speaking in Italian]

He's taken over the case,

um, because they're annoyed that the previous chap

let Dickie disappear

when he was, um, the only suspect in Freddie's murder.

[speaking in Italian]

In Rome, about three weeks ago.

I knew that one.

[speaking in Italian]

[speaking in Italian]

Are you a homosexual?

Interesting non sequitur.

No.

-No. -Oh.

By the way, um, officially there are no Italian homosexuals.

Makes Michelangelo and Leonardo very inconvenient.

-Eh? -Tell him…

I have a fiancée.

And Dickie has a fiancée.

And that Freddie Miles probably had a string of them.

[speaking in Italian]

[Peter continues speaking in Italian]

[speaking in Italian]

[all chuckling]

-What did he say? -He says, "So many fiancées."

[speaking in Italian]

[Peter] He's asking if you killed Freddie Miles,

and then killed Dickie Greenleaf.

No!

No, I did not kill Freddie Miles and then kill Dickie Greenleaf.

Is he accusing me? Are you… Ask him if he's accusing me.

The way it works here, it's better to be less volatile.

But it's absurd.

[both speaking in Italian]

[speaking in Italian]

They found this in Dickie's place in Rome.

You opened this?

Of course.

It's a suicide note.

You asked me all these questions and you already read this suicide note?

[playing classical music]

I don't believe that letter. Do you?

Dickie's letter. Do you believe it?

I don't know what to believe.

Can you imagine, though, if he did kill Freddie, what that must be like?

Just to wake up every morning. I mean, how can you?

Just wake up and be a person?

Drink your coffee.

Well, whatever you do, however terrible, however hurtful,

it all makes sense, doesn't it?

In your head.

You never meet anybody who thinks they're a bad person.

No, I know, but you're still tormented. You must be. You've killed someone.

Don't you just take the past and put it in a room in the basement,

and lock the door and never go in there?

-That's what I do. -God, yes.

But, of course, in my case, it's probably a whole building.

And then you meet someone special,

and all you want to do is toss them the key.

Say "Open up. Step inside."

But you can't.

Because it's dark…

[resumes playing piano]

…and there are demons.

And if anybody saw how ugly it is…

[continues playing the piano]

Now that's the music talking.

It's harder to be bleak if you're playing "Knees Up, Mother Brown."

[playing a cheerful tune]

I keep wanting to do that.

Fling the door open.

[playing a somber tune]

Just let the light in, clean everything out.

If I could take a giant eraser and rub out everything,

starting with myself…

The thing is, Peter, if…

[Peter] Hmm?

If…

[chuckles]

No key, huh?

[boy singing in Latin]

[rousing violin music]

-Marge. -Peter.

-So good to see you. -Hello, Marge.

Tom.

I see you found Peter.

Well, I think we sort of found each other.

Where's Dickie's father?

He's not coming till the morning.

Evidently his stomach.

I don't think the food here is agreeing with him.

Oh, I was looking forward to seeing him.

Dickie hasn't killed himself. I'm sure of that.

There's a private detective on the case now.

A Mr. MacCarron Dickie's father's employed.

-That's a terrific idea. -He's American.

He's already discovered that Dickie cashed checks for $1,000

the day before he disappeared.

Is that what you do before you jump into the Tiber?

I don't think so.

-Is this you? -No, it's Tom's.

Splendid, eh?

Golly.

Who's paying for this?

Peter found it for me.

I can afford it because it's damp and…

falling down.

-[Peter] Tom's transformed it. -This is spectacular.

That's why Tom wanted you to stay.

[Peter] It's better than trying to squeeze into my room.

And I know how you hate hotels.

A hotel would have been fine.

We'll have to tell Mr. Greenleaf how far his dollar stretched.

[chuckles]

What's funny?

I was just thinking about when Tom first came to Mongibello.

And look at you now.

Look at me what?

To the manor born.

[playing a soft tune]

-[sighs] -[Tom] Mr. Greenleaf?

Mr. Greenleaf?

Tom.

How are you? You look well.

-Thank you, sir. I am well. -Far cry from New York.

-[Tom] Yes, it is. -Marge.

Good morning.

Unusual weather.

-Very. -And you, sir. Any better?

Pretty good. Sticking with hot water.

-Where's Mr. MacCarron? -San Remo.

The police are amateurs.

Well, my boy, it's come to a pretty pass, hasn't it?

What is the detective hoping to find in San Remo?

He's being thorough.

I'm learning about my son, Tom.

Now he's missing, I'm learning a great deal about him,

and I hope that you can fill in some more blanks for me.

Marge has been good enough to do that about Mongibello.

I'll try my best, sir.

[Tom] Obviously, I'll do anything to help Dickie.

[Herbert] Good. This theory,

the letter he left for you.

The police…

think that's a clear indication he was planning on doing something,

uh, to himself.

I just don't believe that.

You don't want to, dear.

I'd like to talk to Tom alone.

Perhaps this afternoon. Would you mind?

Marge, what a man may say to his sweetheart

and what he'll admit to another fellow…

Such as?

[soft sax music continues]

[clears throat] What a waste of lives and opportunities.

I'd pay that fellow $100 right now to shut up!

[music continues]

No, Marge doesn't know the half of it.

And his passport photo.

Did you hear? To scratch out his own face like that?

Can you imagine?

Frame of mind you'd have to be in?

"I've thought about going to the police, but I can't face it.

I can't face anything anymore."

I feel guilty.

I feel like I pushed him away.

I feel like I spoke and he heard you.

Well… [clears throat]

If we all pushed him away,

what about him pushing us away? You've been a great friend to my son.

Everything is someone else's fault.

We all want to sow wild oats,

but somebody's got to… got to…

What is the word?

You know, the moment someone confronts him,

he lashes out.

He always has.

You know, people always say that you can't choose your parents…

but you can't choose your children.

[knocking]

[Freddie] Dickie.

[Dickie] You can be a leech.

-[Dickie] You can be quite boring. -[Tom] Stop it!

[Dickie] Boring. It's boring.

[indistinct voices overlapping]

[screams and voices overlapping]

[knocking]

Coming.

-Sorry. I was asleep. -[Peter] Finally.

I must have fallen asleep.

Did Dickie's dad go?

You look ghastly, Tom. Did you have a nightmare?

He's having an early night.

[Marge] Oh, poor man.

You know, we were banging on that door forever.

[Marge] Uh-oh.

I think I've broken a strap.

Not guilty.

I'll fix some drinks.

[Marge laughing]

Ah! You walk in Venice.

Are you okay?

[Tom] I'm fine.

Did you want me to stick around?

No, it's okay.

I could come back.

Your key.

-[knock on door] -[Marge] Tom?

Marge, I'm in the bath. I won't be long.

[Marge] Tom, I have to speak to you. It's urgent.

Coming.

I found Dickie's rings.

What?

You have Dickie's rings.

I can explain.

Dickie promised me he would never take off this ring.

Let me put some clothes on and we'll talk about this.

-I have to tell Mr. Greenleaf. -Marge, you're being hysterical.

He promised me, "I swear, I will never take off this ring

-"until we get…" -Shut up!

I'm wet, Marge.

I've lost my towel.

And I'd really like to put some clothes on.

Go and pour us both a drink.

Pour us a drink.

[ominous music playing]

[clattering]

[Tom panting]

Marge?

Where are you going?

I wasn't snooping. I just…

I was looking for a needle and thread to mend my bra.

That scent you're wearing.

I bought that for you.

The thing about Dickie,

so many things.

That day when he was late coming back from Rome,

I tried to tell you this.

He was with another girl.

I'm not talking about Meredith, either.

Another girl that we met in a bar.

He couldn't be faithful for five minutes.

So when he makes a promise,

it doesn't mean what it means when you make a promise

or I make a promise.

He has so many realities, Dickie, and he believes them all.

He lies. He lies.

And that's his…

And half the time he doesn't even realize he's doing it.

And today,

I really started wondering whether he may have killed Freddie.

He would get so crazy if anybody would contradict him.

Well, you know that.

You know that.

You know that.

And that's the irony, Marge.

I loved you.

You may as well know, Marge. I loved you.

I don't know, maybe it's grotesque of me to say this now,

so just write it on a piece of paper or something

and put it in your purse for a rainy day.

"Tom loves me."

"Tom loves me."

Why do you have Dickie's rings?

I told you. He gave them to me.

Why? When?

I feel as if you haven't been listening to anything I've been saying to you.

[softly] I don't believe you. I don't believe you.

It's all true.

I don't believe a single word you've said.

[gasps]

You're shivering, Marge.

Look at you. Marge, can I hold you?

Will you let me hold you?

-[screams] -[Peter] Marge?

Peter! Oh, Peter.

-Thank God you're here. -[Peter] What's going on?

[crying] Get me out of here. Get me out of here.

Please!

[Peter] Tom, are you okay?

[Marge sobbing]

You try. You try talking to her.

-[Peter] Tom? -I give up.

[Peter] Tell me what's going on. Tom!

[Tom] I never did… What did I ever do to her?

-[Peter] Listen. -Have her tell you one thing

that I've ever done to her.

Listen, you can't be angry with her.

She's confused, and she needs someone to blame.

So she blames you.

[Peter] I'll go back home and talk to her.

As for you,

either get a safety razor or grow a beard.

[knock on door]

Is Mr. Greenleaf here?

Mr. Ripley?

-Yes. -I'm Alvin MacCarron.

[Marge] I don't know, I don't know. I just know it.

[Herbert] Marge, there's female intuition and then there are facts.

-Tom. -[Tom] Sir.

Marge, you should have waited. I didn't…

Didn't Peter say I'd come by and pick you up?

Marge has been telling us about the rings.

Yes, I feel ridiculous I didn't mention them yesterday.

I clean forgot. Ridiculous.

Perhaps you didn't mention them because there's only one conclusion to be drawn.

I'm going to take Marge for a little walk.

Tom, Mr. MacCarron needs to talk to you.

Uh, there's no need. We could go to the bar. There's no need.

No, no.

I think you should stay here.

[door closing]

I could probably see my room from here.

I can see my house.

When you see where you live from a distance,

it's like a dream, isn't it?

I don't care for BS.

I don't care to hear it. I don't care to speak it.

Okay.

Did you know that at Princeton Dickie Greenleaf half-killed a boy?

At a party over some girl.

Kicked the kid several times in the head, put him in the hospital.

Boy had a wire fixed in his jaw, lost some hearing.

Why do you think Dickie's father sent him to Europe in the first place?

The Rome police didn't think to ask Mr. Greenleaf.

Nor did they think to check on whether a Thomas Ripley

had ever been a student at Princeton University.

Oh, I turned up a Tom Ripley

who had been a…

piano tuner in the music department.

You see, in America,

we are taught to check a fact

before it becomes a fact.

We're taught to nose around.

When a girl drowns herself,

find out if that girl is pregnant.

Find out if Dickie had an embarrassment there.

Mr. Greenleaf appreciates your loyalty. He really does.

Marge, she has a hundred theories.

There are a few things that she doesn't know.

We hope she never knows.

I hope she never knows.

Three different people

saw Dickie get into Freddie's car.

One man, who will not testify

because he was jumping somebody else's wife at the time,

saw Dickie removing license plates from a red sports car.

The police know about this man

because he happens to be a policeman.

I found these in the basement of Dickie's apartment.

They belong to Freddie's car.

Mr. Greenleaf has asked me…

to lose these in the canal this evening.

[bell tolling]

Mr. Greenleaf feels that there was a silent promise

in Dickie's letter to you which he intends to honor.

He also intends to transfer a good portion of Dickie's income from his trust

into your name.

He does not intend

to give the Italians any information about Dickie's past.

He's rather hoping that you will feel the same.

[gentle jazz music playing]

-Thank you so much, Tom. -Sir.

-Good-bye. -Good-bye.

Marge, I feel I never should have said those things to you the other evening.

I was pretty flustered, and the rings,

and you looked so…

I don't know.

But I hope that note goes in your purse to New York

for a rainy day.

What are you gonna do now, Tom?

I don't know, um…

Peter has a concert in Athens next month,

so he asked me to come along and help out.

He says good-bye.

By the way, he was in rehearsal so he couldn't…

Why do I think there's never been a Ripley rainy day?

What?

I know it was you. I know it was you.

-I know it was you! -Marge!

-I know it was you! -[Tom] Marge, Marge. Please!

I know you killed Dickie!

-[Tom] Marge! -I know! No! [screams]

[sobs] I know it was you!

[Herbert] Marge. Marge, please.

It's not Tom. Really.

[seagulls cawing]

[Tom and Peter singing] ♪ We are called Gondoleri ♪

♪ But that's a vagary It's quite honorary ♪

♪ The trade that we ply ♪

Ask me what I want to change about this moment.

I don't know. What do you want to change about this moment?

Nothing.

I'm freezing. Coming down?

Later. I want to catch the sunset.

[Peter chuckles] You're mad.

I am.

[somber jazz music playing]

[Meredith] Dickie?

Dickie?

Dickie!

Oh, my God.

Hello, Meredith.

I was looking at you.

Your clothes. I wouldn't have known you.

Well, you spotted me, so you get the reward.

-What? -Just kidding.

Are you alone?

Oh.

Hardly. Couldn't be less alone.

-Aunt Joan. -And "co."

[scoffs]

A lot of "co."

Oh, God.

[Meredith] You know, seeing you again, I…

I've thought about you…

so much.

And I've thought about you.

Yeah, well, when I thought about you, I was mostly hating you.

[tuts]

Where have you been hiding?

I haven't been hiding.

I've been in police custody.

They've been trying to flush out Freddie's killer.

[gasps] You're kidding.

Well, that's… They're giving me this vacation,

which is why the getup.

Which is why you haven't heard from me.

You know, the whole world thinks you killed Freddie.

-Oh! It's terrible. -I know.

Listen, I can't talk now. Um, later?

Later?

Later?

So…

Are you traveling under "R"?

[chuckles] You know what?

-I am. -[both chuckling]

Dickie, are you with Peter Smith-Kingsley? I bet you are.

My aunt thought she saw him.

Peter Smith-Kingsley? No.

I haven't seen him in months.

No, I'm alone.

[ominous music playing]

[knock on door]

Hi.

How was it?

It was good.

But I'll tell you something. I want us to stay in here

for the rest of the trip.

[both chuckling]

Was that Meredith?

Was who Meredith?

Meredith Logue. You were kissing someone. It looked like Meredith.

I came out to find you.

Oh, hardly kissing.

Kissing off. [chuckles]

It didn't look that way...

you know, from a distance.

I lied to her.

She thought she'd seen you.

-Why lie? -[chuckles]

Dickie and Peter together? That's just too good gossip.

Or Tom and Peter, even.

That would be even better gossip.

Really? Why?

I… I… Um…

I'm completely lost.

I know.

I'm sorry, Peter.

I'm lost.

I'm gonna be stuck in the basement, aren't I?

[Tom] Aren't I?

That's my…

Terrible…

and alone.

And dark.

And I've lied…

about who I am…

and where I am.

Now no one'll ever find me.

What do you mean, lied about who you are?

I always thought it'd be better

to be a fake somebody

than a real nobody.

What are you talking about?

You're not a nobody. That's the last thing you are.

Peter…

Tell me some good things about Tom Ripley.

No, don't get up. Don't get up. Don't get up…

Just…

Just tell me some nice things about Tom Ripley.

[chuckles]

Good things about Tom Ripley.

That could take me some time.

Tom is talented.

Tom is tender.

Tom is beautiful.

You're such a liar.

Tom is… Tom is a mystery.

[Peter] Tom is not a nobody.

Tom has secrets he doesn't want to tell me,

and I wish he would.

Tom has nightmares.

That's not a good thing.

Tom has someone to love him.

That is a good thing.

Mm. Tom is crushing me.

[whispering] Tom is crushing me.

-[Tom sobbing] -Tom. Tom, you're crush…

[Peter coughing and gagging]

[Tom sobbing] Oh, God!

Oh, God!

[gagging continues]

[Tom continues sobbing]

Oh, God! Oh, God! Peter… [sobbing]