All language subtitles for The.Talented.Mr.Ripley.1999.1080p.BluRay.x264.AAC5.1-[YTS.MX]_swe

# From the silence

# From the night

# Comes a distant

# Lullaby

# Soul surrendering
your soul

# The heart in you not whole

# For love

# For love...

# Walked out

# Cast into the dark

# Branded with a mark

# Of shame

# Of Cain... #

(Ripley) '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.
- You're so kind, thank you.

(Man) Congratulations.

Marvellous, marvellous.
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.

- I couldn't 't help noticing the jacket.
- Yes.

Class of '56.

How is Dickie?

(Frances) We've enjoyed meeting you.

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.

- Oh, dear.
- He has a saxophone.

To my ear, jazz is just noise.

Just an insolent noise.

- Very nice to meet you.
- And you.

We'll see you at the shipyard.

- I hope to.
- 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.

Believe me.
Buy IBM now, before it splits.

- You'll make yourself a fortune.
- You think so?

(# Classical piano)

Sorry. Sorry.

Sorry.

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

Mongibello, south of Naples.

No kind of place at all.

- (Man) Good morning, sir.
- Frank.

Marge, his 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?

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.

(# Jazz vocalisation)

(# Jazz orchestra)

(Ripley) Count Basie.

Duke Ellington? I don't know.

I don't know.

Dizzy Gillespie.

(# Chet Baker: "My Funny Valentine")

"My Funny Valentine"...

- (Man and woman arguing)
- # Sweet funny Valentine

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

- # You make me smile...
- (Crashing)

(Shouting continues)

(# Saxophone solo piece)

Charlie Parker?

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

Yes!

- (# Recording ends)
- Urgh.

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

That thousand bucks
should come in handy.

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

- Thank you.
- Sir.

You'll have a great trip. Mr Greenleaf is
personal friends with the Cunard people.

(# Italian opera)

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

(Horn blasts)

(Announcement in Italian over PA)

(Ripley) Do you speak English?
(Man) What you name, please?

- Ripley.
- Follow me. No problem.

- Here, Signor Ripley.
- Okay.

Uh, there. That one.

- This one.
- Wait, is that all? Count them.

Attenzione.
Just one suitcase, Signor Ripley?

- Si.
- Attenzione.

Oh, Customs.

(Officer speaks Italian)

- What's your secret?
- Excuse me?

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

No, it's just that...

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

It's, you know, humiliating.

(Speaks Italian)

I'm Meredith, by the way.

- Hello, I'm Dickie.
- Meredith Randall.

- Um, Dickie Greenleaf.
- Hello.

You're not the shipping Greenleafs.

Oh, trying not to be.

Trying to jump ship.

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

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

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.

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.
- Randall.

Right.

- So, Rome, Rome, Rome.
- Oh.

- We're partners in disguise. Bye.
- Bye.

(Shouting In Italian)

(Driver) # Mongibello!

# Mongibello!

(Chatting in Italian)

(Singing opera)

(Ripley speaks Italian slowly)

"The fiancée has a face."

(Ripley repeats in Italian)

(Continues in Italian)

(Italian)

"Bird".

"This is my face."

(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, 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...

I suppose you must have known me.

Princeton's like a fog.

America's like a fog.

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

- Ripley.
- How do you do?

How do you do, Marge?

- What are you doing in Mongi?
- Nothing, nothing much.

Just passing through.

- Passing through?
- Yeah.

You're so white.

Did you ever see a guy so white,
Marge?

Grey, actually.

It's just an undercoat.

- (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.

That's so funny.

(Dickie) Silvana! Hey!

I've been looking all over for you.
Where've you been hiding?

Today you're looking for me.

- And the rest of the week?
- You're always working.

- (Dickie) Come on. Get on.
- With the American girl?

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

- (Dickie) Huh?
- I hate you!

(Marge) Did you suddenly forget
where I lived?

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

- It's 4:00.
- I just woke up.

- Ohh.
- I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

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

We were fishing,
and then it was dawn...

- We caught absolutely nothing.
- Mmm, yes, well.

We ate everything without you.

- We?
- Yes.

- Tom Ripley's here.
- Who?

- Tom. Hello.
- Hi.

- Hello.
- Thought you'd disappeared.

We were gonna send out
a search party.

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.

- 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.

(Giggles)

Everybody should have one talent.
What's yours?

Forging signatures,

telling lies,
impersonating practically anybody.

That's three. Nobody should
have more than one talent.

Okay, do an impression.

- Now?
- Yeah.

(As Herbert 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.
- 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!
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 I.

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 a thousand dollars.

(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, hasn't he?

- Ciao, Fausto.
- Oh, Dickie!

(Chat in Italian)

- This is Tom.
- Ciao, Tom.

- I'm never going back.
- No, I think...

Your mother, her illness, I think...

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.
- Look, I don't know...

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.

- Hi, Tom.
- Hi.

Marge! Tom's saying goodbye.

Oh, I'll come down.

So, uh, did you speak to my father?

Oh, you were right...
about the telephones.

- I told you.
- 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!

Hey... you like jazz.

I love jazz.

Oh! This is the best.

Baker, Rollins.

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

- I never said that!
- 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.

- It's vile.
- You don't have to come. It's great.

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

(# Music over dialogue)

How are you?

Oh!

(Singing in Italian)

That'd be cool. Bring him up.

(Italian)

...Tom Ripley!

Come on! Get on up here!

(Italian)

I'll tell you when to join the chorus.

Come on.

Okay, together!

(Dickie) 'I bumped into
an old friend from Princeton.

- 'A fellow called Tom Ripley.'
- (Typewriter 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 Ermalinda made up the bed.

- Ermalinda!
- Si?

(Both speak Italian)

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

Now that you're a double agent and
we're going to 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) You can't even drive.
- What we need urgently is an icebox.

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.
- Promise you'd say?

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

(Marge) Don't like you. Ha-ha!

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

(Ripley mimics Marge) I like him.

(Mimics Dickie)
Marge, you like everybody.

(Mimics Marge) No, I like him.

(Mimics Dickie)
Marge, you like everybody.

(Dickie) Now you'll find out why
Marge always shows up for breakfast.

It's not love,
it's my coffee machine!

(Marge) Ever since Ermalinda showed
him how to make his own espresso,

he feels like quite the grown-up.

(Dickie) I bought the coffee machine.
(Marge) Oh, darling, is that for me?

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

(Tom) That ring is superb.

Oh, Tom, I love you. See?

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.
- Ha-ha(!)

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

- Who's Frances?
- My fiancée.

Ahem! Engaged?
You're a dark horse, Ripley.

- Who is she?
- Your parents met her.

Oh, God.
Oh, 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.

- Better now, huh?
- Okay, okay, okay.

We'll make a sailor of you yet!

You're doing really well.

- 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?

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.
Unbelievable, Tom can't ski either.

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

Such little 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 café
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.

(Speaks Italian)

(Speaking Italian)

Hey, hey, Signor Greenleaf!

If you're not at my place by 7.00,
Tom and I are running off together.

- Okay, fine.
- (Man) Oh, Dickie!

# (Indistinct)

Oh, hold on. Hold on.

# Silvana, Silvana

# You make me smile #

I need to talk to you.

- You're breaking my ribs!
- What?

You're breaking my ribs!

# But don't

# Change a hair for me

# Not if you care for me

# Stay, little Valentine

# Stay

# Each day is
Valentine's Day... #

Oh! 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?

- Cold beer. Thank you, Dad.
- Okay.

Copy out from here.

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

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

Ermalinda 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?
- Like Clark Kent.

- Now Superman.
- Superman.

- Okay.
- I know. It's like a kid's.

(Ripley) See this, the "S" and the "T"?
Fine, vulnerable.

That's pain. That's secret pain.

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

(Ripley) There's nothing more
naked than your handwriting.

See how nothing's
quite touching the line?

- That's vanity.
- Well, we certainly know that's true.

(Dickie) Do you have any brothers?

(Ripley) 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? It 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 vocalizing jazz)

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

He wants me to reassure him you're
going to 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.
- Battistoni.

(Sings in Italian)

# Roma, we're taking Tom to Roma

# We're going to a-Roma #

(Chatting in Italian)

Buon giorno. Nice sweater.

Where do we get a carrozza
for the Forum?

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

Relax!

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

Most important is where to eat.
I hope Freddie made a reservation.

Freddie?

Freddie. Freddie Miles.

Freddie's organising
the Cortina skiing trip.

Oh.

Oh, here he is.

(Tyres screech)

- Frederico!
- Come stai?

- Bene!
- Ciao, bello! Come stai?

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.

- You look gorgeous.
- As always.

So... mangiare.

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

Outstanding. I tell you,
I'm so cabin-crazy with Mongi.

I know. I was there.

(# Jazz playing)

Look, Tom, we gotta 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.

Come on.

Ciao. Have fun, okay?

(Knocking)

You said to make sure you didn't
miss the train. Leaves at 8.00.

(Snickers)

- Have a good time.
- See ya, Tommy.

(Wolf whistles)

(Whistle blows)

# If I meant anything to her

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

# I'd sing to her

# May I be the only one

# To say I

# Really fell in love the day I

# First set eyes on you

- # May I... #
- What are you doing?

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 pick out a jacket, so...

Could you get undressed
in your own room?

- Thought you missed the train.
- Freddie drove me back in his car.

- Is Freddie here?
- He's downstairs.

I was just fooling around.

Don't say anything.
I was just fooling around.

Sorry.

(Freddie) God, a corduroy jacket in Italy.

- (Marge) Morning, Tom.
- Morning.

- (Chuckles)
- Come join us.

Hey. 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)

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

- I'll do it.
- (Dickie) 'To the mainland!'

You really should go in.
It's marvellous.

I'm fine.

(Dickie and Freddie shouting)

Are you okay?

Sure.

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.

Come and get him! Come and 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 Dick say?

He spoke to Freddie and...
apparently it's not going to work out.

It's because everyone else can ski
and it affects where you stay and...

(Dickie) Come on, Freddie.

At least stick around
for the Festival of the Madonna.

- The whole town comes out...
- I don't think so.

I have my own Madonna back in Rome.
Why don't you come back with me?

A lot of ladies. Ooh!

(Sniggers)

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

Yeah, sure.

Just point her at Capri.
Avoid the rocks.

Where are you going?

Marge maintenance.

Aye-aye.

(Marge and Dickie murmuring)

(Marge) Don't.

(Scoffs)

(Marge) Dickie...

Tommy... how's the peeping?

Tommy, how's the peeping?

Tommy, Tommy,
Tommy, Tommy, Tommy...

(Chanting in Italian)

(People applaud)

(Chanting continues)

(Screams)

Is someone getting an ambulance?

- Is someone getting an ambulance?
- (Wailing)

(Crowd chant prayers)

(Shouting)

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

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

(Ripley) 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 civilised.

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

I'll go see what's the matter.

I'll go.

(# Solo saxophone)

(Tom) I know why you're upset.

I know about Silvana, Dickie.

I know about you and Silvana.

What about us?

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.

Erm..."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?

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.

(Speaking Italian)

Why do you do
that thing with your neck?

What thing?

On trains,
you always do that thing.

Spooky.

Spook-k-k-k-k-k-ky.

(Mimics jazz percussion)

Spooky.

Oh! Didn't I tell you
San Remo was crazy?

This is more like it! Come on!

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.

Do you even like jazz,
or was that for my benefit?

- 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 thinking of giving up the sax.

What do you think
about the drums?

- What?
- So cool.

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

This is how I found
my place in Mongi.

Took a boat out...

...around the bay,

first thing I liked, I got it.

- Whoa!
- Come on, Dickie. Don't go crazy.

- Dickie. Slow down!
- Ha-ha! Hold on!

Wait a minute!
It's gonna tip! Oh, God!

Stop it! Somebody!
Somebody! Stop it!

(Shouting)

Oh, I love it here!

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

Beautiful.

(Mimics jazz percussion)

- I want to tell you my plan.
- Oh, God!

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

- I don't think so.
- 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 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!

And... it's boring.

You can be quite boring.

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?
- No, it's dangerous for you to take on.

Oh, no, no. We're brothers.

Hey. And then you do
this sordid thing with Marge,

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

which was excruciating.

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 want to play the sax. You want
to play the drums. Which is it, Dickie?

What are you actually?

Who are you? Huh?
Some third-class mooch? Who are you?

Who are you to say anything to me?

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.

It gives me the creeps.
You give me the creeps.

- You shut up.
- "Dickie, Dickie!" like a little girl.

Shut up!

Oh, God, Dickie.

- God's sake.
- Oh... Oh God!

Okay. Okay.

- We have to get you...
- (Screams)

I'm gonna kill you! Kill you!

(Screaming)

You're dead!

Stop! Stop! Please! Please!

- (Screaming)
- Stop it! Stop!

- Dickie, let go!
- I'll kill you!

Stop! Stop! Stop!

(Panting)

Can I have my key, please?

Of course.

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

No. I'm...

(Keyboard clacking)

- Hello, Marge.
- (Screams)

Tom!

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.

Where's Dickie?

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

Rome? Ahh.
Did he say why?

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

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.

He knows I love this.

But why it couldn't have waited...

Errand number one:
Deliver Marge's perfume.

Errand number two:

Pack some clothes
and his precious saxophone.

How long is he staying for?

Search me.
I guess we're abandoned.

(Marge) Goddamn it!

(Tom) Are you okay?

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.

The thing is,
the night before he left, we...

we talked about moving together...

...somewhere north
and I suppose I...

...put some pressure on him
about getting married.

I just...

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
that's so tender.

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

He hates being confronted.

I think you're right.

Grazie. Checking in.

Checking in.

- Signor Ripley?
- It's me.

Signor Greenleaf.

Of course. Welcome back.

Thank you.

- (Woman) 'Pronto?'
- I'd like to telephone the Hotel Goldoni.

- 'Si, signor.'
- I want to speak to Thomas Ripley.

- Ripley? Subito.
- Yes. Grazie.

(Phone buzzes)

- Pronto.
- 'Signor Ripley's not there.'

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

Well, I would like
to leave a message.

I'll leave a message.

"Got your call.
Dinner tonight... sounds fine.

"Ripley."

- Dickie Greenleaf.
- (Woman) 'Dickie Greenleaf.'

- Yes. Greenleaf.
- '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! It's...

- Oh, my gosh.
- Meredith.

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

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

- 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, 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, I've never been happier.
- I would not have made a joke.

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) Because my friend
Mr Greenleaf, Signor Greenleaf and I,

- are on a little spending spree.
- (Man) I see.

We're behaving very badly.

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

- Gr-r-razie.
- Thank you.

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

Tutto bene,
Signor Greenleaf.

(Counting in Italian)

(Italian)

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

(Italian)

- Tomorrow.
- (Italian)

- Arrivederci.
- Arrivederci. Oops!

- Ciao.
- 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.

(# Opera in Italian)

(Shot Fires)

(Body thuds)

(Audience applauding)

Feodor Chaliapin.
It's the whole 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.

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

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?

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 ringing)
- I am. I really am.

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

Well, you should hurry,
before we sink.

Look, let me give you
the telephone number.

There. Oh, look.
There's Meredith.

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

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

I don't know her.

He hasn't called.
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?

- Uh, 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. Time?
- 10:30?

- We'll be there.
- Okay.

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

10:30?
Very nice to meet you.

(Peter) And you.

Come on.

Come on. Let's go back in.

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

- Let's go.
- 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)
Don't worry, please.

Don't worry.

You're such a pal to understand. I...

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

and I see her face.

And I can't... No matter what
I'm feeling towards you...

No. I absolutely... understand.

Otherwise, you'd be fighting me off.

Beating you away.

Look, will you meet me
tomorrow?

Just to say goodbye 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. 10:30?

- 10:15.
- Okay.

Okay.

(Bell tolling)

(Tolling continues)

(Italian)

(Chattering, Indistinct)

- (Peter) Grazie.
- Peter?

Hello. Its Meredith Logue.

(Peter) Of course it is.
Meredith, hello. Sorry.

- I was half asleep. How are you?
- How are you?

This is Marge Sherwood.
Meredith Logue.

How do you do?

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

I-I won't, actually.
I think there's...

- It was you at the opera last night?
- Uh...

Are you waiting for Dickie?

Dickie? Do you- Do you-
Do you know Dickie?

You were at the opera.
Oh, that explains- Yes, I was there.

I was there with Dickie.

(Exhales) I knew it.

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-how-how
would you know that?

He... told me everything.

No, I was supposed to meet him
15 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?

Ah 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.

- (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.

Goodbye. I'm happy to put
a face to a name.

Goodbye, Peter.
Please, don't get up.

(Marge) Now I don't know what to
think. Do you think he's coming back?

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.

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

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

That was rather moving
when I heard... 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.

(Chuckles)
As if that makes sense.

(Italian)

(# Choir singing in Italian)

(Knocking at door)

(Knocking)

(Freddie) Dickie.

- (Knocking)
- Dickie, come on. It's me.

It's Freddie. Let me in.

Dickie.

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. You know Otello's?
- No, no, no.

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

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

You know? Incredible.

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

I guess.

The landlady,
as far as I could tell-

The landlady said
he was here right now.

Search the place.

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

Because he's been
hiding from me.

- What happened at Christmas?
- What about Christmas?

He was supposed to come skiing.
I didn't get a cable...

or a call or a little note or a-

- (Grunts)
- 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 horse shit.

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 keys)

Some kid.
(Strikes keys)

Are you living here?

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

- But-
- (Strikes keys)

It's a new piano.
Probably shouldn't...

(Striking keys)

- Probably shouldn't-
- (Strikes keys)

Did this place come furnished?

It doesn't look like Dickie's, uh-

It's really horrible, isn't it?

It's so, uh, bourgeois.

Oh, that's a, uh-
You should- Watch that.

Excuse- Excuse me.

Excuse me.

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?
- 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.

Is it on della Croce
just off the Corso?

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

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

and now you're giving me directions.

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

I'll see you.

(Door closes)

(Italian)

(Freddie)
No Dickie Greenleaf. Thomas Ripley.

(Italian)

Ciao, Dickie.

Dickie doesn't play the piano.

(Freddie) Tommy.

Tommy!

(Freddie groaning)

(Tom grunting)

(Man and woman chattering)

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.

- What can you do?
- (Italian)

Yes. Such a pig.

- (Laughs)
- (Italian)

(Mimics Freddie) Hey, if I'm drunk,
think what her husband's saying.

- La polizia.
- Dickie Greenleaf?

- Yes.
- Inspector Roverini.

- Can we come in?
- Please.

It's a terrible shock, huh?

W-What time did Signor Miles
leave yesterday?

Um, I can't be certain
exactly. I-

8:00, 9:00.

(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.
- (Italian)

Freddie's a big man, but I'm
in trouble after a couple of drinks.

I've been suffering all-

Who found him?

(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-

(Italian)

- Postmortem.
- Yeah, exactly.

But, you know,
his first conclusion...

was that Signor Miles was killed
not later than 7:00 yesterday evening.

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

No.

(Chattering)

(Italian)

(Italian) It's 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.

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
I shouldn't have said and I-

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.

(Italian)

(Engine stops)

- Where does he live?
- We passed it a few blocks back.

It's where the police were.
The Palazzo Gioia.

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

Well, perhaps
I shouldn't go either.

No. 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 starts)

(Italian)
Signor Greenleaf!

It's Signor Greenleaf!
Presto, presto!

(Shouting in Italian)

Open the door!

Open up!

- (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.

- Even your fiancée?
- Even her.

(Man speaking 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 7 is my information.

I don't remember
the exact date.

- When did you last see Signor Ripley?
- A few days ago.

- Does he stay with you here?
- No.

No.

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 7.

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, yeah.

(Italian)

- Marge Sherwood.
- That is Miss Sherwood now.

Let her in.

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

No! Actually-
Actually, no.

I would- I would
really appreciate it...

if you would ask Miss Sherwood
to come back later.

(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, the Goldoni.
Tom was staying at the Goldoni.

Goldoni. The Goldoni.
Good, good, but...

Yes, you are right.

You are right.
A coincidence.

(Siren wailing)

(Sighing)
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.

Line-up. Tomorrow, then?

Uh, tomorrow.

(Chuckles)

- Buon giorno, Miss Sherwood.
- Buon giorno.

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

(Knocking)

Dick?

Dickie?

I know you can hear me.

(Sighing)

I was gonna say that I would count to
three, and if you didn't open the door...

But I won't count any more.

On you.

I won't count on you any more.

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 clattering)

(Thunder rumbling)

(Tom's voice) '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 any more.

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

(Typewriter bell dings,
clattering continues)

'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?'

Tom!

I'll see you over there!

(Bell 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 rumour,
that you're still in one piece.

- What rumour?
- Oh, you know.

That Dickie murdered you
and is travelling under your passport.

I know. It's ridiculous.

(Man shouting in Italian)

(Shouting continues)

(Phone ringing)

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, I thought...

that didn't happen in Italy,
that each region is separate.

I was sure that-
I've read that-

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

- American tourist murdered.
- Actually, can we not do this now?

- The stench really is-
- (Man speaking Italian)

(Italian)

(Continues in Italian)

He's taken over the case, because
they're annoyed that the previous chap...

let Dickie disappear
when he was, um,

the only suspect
in Freddie's murder.

(Italian)

In Rome,
about three weeks ago.

I knew that one.

Um-
(Italian)

(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.

(Italian)

Mamma mia.
(Italian)

- (Inspector laughing)
- (Chuckling)

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

(Italian)

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?
Ask him if he's accusing me.

- Here, it's better to be less volatile.
- But it's absurd.

(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?

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...

- (Resumes playing)
- Because it's dark...

and there are demons.

And if anybody saw
how ugly it is-

Now that's the music talking.

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

I keep wanting to do that.

Fling... the door open.

(Resumes playing)

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-

- Hmm?
- If...

If...

No key, huh?

(# Boy singing in Latin)

- Marge.
- Peter.

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

Tom.

- I see you found Peter.
- 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 cheques for $1,000...

the day before he disappeared.

(Man) Signora.

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.

- Tom's transformed it.
- This is spectacular.

That's why
Tom wanted you to stay.

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.

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.

(Bell tolling)

(Tom) Mr Greenleaf?

Mr Greenleaf?

Tom. How are you?
You look well.

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

- 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. Obviously,
I'll do anything to help Dickie.

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?

(Clears throat) What a waste
of lives... and opportunities.

I'd pay that fellow a hundred dollars
right now to shut up!

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 any more."

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's voice) 'Dickie.'

(Dickie's voice) 'You can be
a leech. You can be quite boring.'

(Tom) 'Stop it!'
(Dickie) 'Boring, it's boring.'

- (Knocking)
- (Voices overlapping)

(Tom screams)
' Stop, stop, stop!

- 'Stop, stop, stop!'
- (Freddie) 'Tommy, Tommy, Tommy.'

(Dickie) 'Like a little girl.'

- 'Like a little girl.'
- (Knocking)

(Knocking)

- (Knocking)
- Coming.

- Sorry. I was asleep.
- 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.
- 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 giggling)

Ah! You walk in Venice.

Are you okay?

I'm fine.

- Did you want me to stick around?
- No, it's okay.

I could come back.

Your key.

- (Knocking)
- (Marge) Tom?

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

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...
- I have to tell Mr Greenleaf.

- 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!
- (Gasping)

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.

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- 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.

I don't believe you.
I don't believe you.

- It's all true.
- I don't believe...

a single word you've said.

You're shivering, Marge.
Look at you.

Marge, can I hold you?

Will you let me hold you?

- (Screaming)
- Marge?

- Oh, Peter. Thank God you're here.
- What's going on?

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.

Tell me what's going on. Tom!

- (Tom) What did I ever do to her?
- Listen-

Have her tell you one thing
that I've ever done to her.

You can't be angry with her.

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

So she blames you.

I'll go back home
and talk to her.

As for you,

either get a safety razor
or grow a beard.

(Knocking)

- Is Mr Greenleaf here?
- Mr Ripley?

- Yes.
- I'm Alvin MacCarron.

(Marge) I don't know,
I don't know. I just know it.

(Mr Greenleaf) Marge, there's female
intuition and then there are facts.

- 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.

- We could go to the bar...
- 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 licence 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 honour.

He also intends to transfer a 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.

- Thank you so much, Tom.
- Sir.

Goodbye.

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.

Peter has a concert in Athens
next month,

so he asked me
to come along and help out.

He says goodbye.

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! I know it was you!
- Marge!

- Marge, Marge. Please!
- I know you killed Dickie!

- Marge!
- I know! No!

(Sobbing)
I know it was you!

Marge. Marge, please.

It's not Tom. Really.

(Tom and Peter)
# 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.

(Peter)
I'm freezing. Coming down?

Later. I want to catch the sunset.

- You're mad. (Chuckling)
- I am.

(Meredith) Dickie?

Dickie?

Dickie!

(Italian)

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."

A lot of "co."

Oh, God.

You know, seeing you again, I...

I've thought about you...

so much.

And I've thought about you.

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

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.

- You're kidding.
- Well, they're giving me this vacation,

which is why the get-up.

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...

(Laughs)

Are you travelling under "R"?

(Laughs)
You know what? I am.

(Laughing)

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

My aunt thought she saw him.

Peter Smith-Kingsley?
No, I...

I haven't seen him in months.

No, I'm alone.

(Knocking at 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.

(Chuckles)

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.
- It didn't look that way.

You know? From a distance?

I lied... to her.

She thought she'd seen you.

Why lie?

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

Or Tom and Peter, even.

That would be
even better gossip.

Really? Why?

(Sighing)

I, um- (Sighing)
I'm completely lost.

I know.

I'm sorry, Peter.

I'm lost.

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

Aren't I?

That's my-

Terrible...

and alone...

and dark.
(Chuckles)

And I've lied...

about who I am...

and where I am.

Now no one'll ever find me.
(Chuckling)

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. (Sighing)

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.

(Chuckling)

"Good things about Tom Ripley."

That could take me some time.

Tom is talented.
Tom is tender.

Tom is beautiful.

(Crying and chuckling)
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.

'Mmm. (Chuckling)
Tom is crushing me.

(Whispering) 'Tom is crushing me.'

- (Tom sobbing)
- 'Tom. Tom, you're crush-'

- (Peter gagging)
- (Tom sobs) 'Oh, God!

'Oh, God!'

- (Gagging continues)
- 'Oh, God!'

(Sobbing continues)

'Oh, God! Peter.'

#You don't know

# What love is

# Until you know the meaning
of the blues

#Till you love the love

# You had to lose

# You don't know

# What love is

# You don't know how lips hurt

# Until you've kissed

# And had to pay the cost

# Until you've flipped your heart

# And found you've lost

# You don't know what love is

# You know

# How a lost heart feels

# The very thought of reminiscing

# And how those lips

# With a taste for tears

# Soon lose their taste

# For kissing

# You don't know

# How hearts burn

# A love that cannot live

# But never dies

# Until you've reached dawn

# With sleepless eyes

# You don't know

# What love is

# You don't know

# What love is

# And don't know

# What love is

# You don't know

# What love is #