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Talented Mr. Ripley (1999)

by Anthony Minghella.
Based on the novel by Patricia Highsmith.
Final script. 1st November 1999.

More info about this movie on IMDb.com


FOR EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES ONLY


1958

PROLOGUE:  INT. RIPLEY'S CABIN. EVENING.

Fade up on Ripley, as in the final scene of the film,
sitting, desolate in a ship's cabin. The camera rotates
around his face, which begins in light and ends in darkness.

		RIPLEY (O/S)
	If I could just go back.  If I could rub
	everything out.  Starting with myself.
	Starting with borrowing a jacket.

EXT. CENTRAL PARK WEST TERRACE. EARLY EVENING.

Ripley is at the piano, accompanying FRAN, a young soprano.
CREDITS begin.

		FRAN (SINGS)
	Ah, such fleeting paradise
	such innocent delight
	to love,
	be loved,
	a lullabye,
	then silence.

The song finishes.  Applause.  They're the entertainment at a
cocktail party to celebrate a silver wedding anniversary.
Some partygoers congratulate Fran on her performance. A
distinguished looking man, pushing his wife in a wheelchair,
approaches Ripley, offers his hand.

		HERBERT GREENLEAF
	Most enjoyable. Herbert Greenleaf.

		RIPLEY
	Tom Ripley. Thank you, sir.

		HERBERT GREENLEAF
		(pointing at Ripley's borrowed
		jacket)
	I see you were at Princeton.
	Then you'll most likely know our son,
	Dick. Dickie Greenleaf...

		EMILY GREENLEAF
	We couldn't help noticing your jacket.

		HERBERT GREENLEAF
	Yes.

		EMILY GREENLEAF
	Class of '56?

		RIPLEY
		(hesitating)
	How is Dickie?

INT. ELEVATOR OPENING OUT INTO LOBBY. EARLY EVENING.

Fran, Ripley, Mr and Mrs Greenleaf and others emerge from an
elevator. Emily talks to Fran, Herbert to Ripley.

		EMILY GREENLEAF
		(to Fran)
	I hope you'll come and see us...

		FRAN
	That's very kind.

		EMILY GREENLEAF
	Both of you...

		HERBERT GREENLEAF
	Of course, Dickie's idea of music is
	Jazz. He has a saxophone.  To my ear Jazz
	is just noise, just an insolent noise.

EXT. CENTRAL PARK WEST. EARLY EVENING.

Ripley shakes hands with Herbert Greenleaf as he gets into
his Rolls Royce. They are making an appointment. Ripley
crosses the street to Fran, pecks her cheek. She hands him
his share of their fee.

		RIPLEY
	Gotta run. I'm so late.
		(he hands Fran's boyfriend the
		jacket he's been wearing)
	Thanks for the jacket.

		BOYFRIEND
	Sure.  Thanks for filling in for me.

From Greenleaf's point of view he sees a couple embracing.

		EMILY GREENLEAF
	Darling couple, aren't they?

		HERBERT GREENLEAF
	Yes.  An exceptional young man.

From another vantage point Ripley hurries on as Fran gets
into her boyfriend's car. A piano quartet starts up.

EXT. THEATER. EVENING.

Ripley runs past the droves of arriving concert-goers and
heads for the theater. Music continues.

INT. MEN'S ROOM, THEATER. NIGHT.

The interval: A thick mass of men in tuxedoes grooming
themselves at the basins. Ripley turns on faucets, offers
towels, brushes off dandruff. Men talk over, round, and
through him.  Put coins in a bowl.

INT. A BOX AT THE THEATER. NIGHT

The concert continues. Ripley peers through the curtain at
the performances.  A haughty woman in the box turns round and
he closes the curtain.

INT. BACKSTAGE. 1:30 A.M.

An empty auditorium. Ripley plays Bach in the blue
ghostlight.  A caretaker emerges from his rounds, flips on
the house lights.  Ripley jerks up from his playing, waves
apologetically.

		RIPLEY
	Sorry, sorry.  I know.  Sorry.

EXT. GREENLEAF SHIPYARDS, BROOKLYN. DAY.

Greenleaf and Ripley walk through one of the drydocks.  A
huge void in the shape of a boat, swarming with workers
preparing the shell of a new liner.  If Central Park is where
the money is spent, this is clearly where it's made.  And a
lot of it. Workers nod deferentially to the man with his name
over the buildings behind them.

		HERBERT GREENLEAF
	Mongibello. Tiny place. South of Naples.
	Marge, his uh, the young lade is
	supposedly writing some kind of book. God
	knows what he does. By all accounts they
	spend the whole time on the beach. Or his
	sailboat. That's my son's talent,
	spending his allowance.

Ripley, in his green corduroy jacket the very model of a
sober young man, listens attentively.

		HERBERT GREENLEAF (cont'd)
	Could you ever conceive of going to
	Italy, Tom, persuade my son to come home?
		(Ripley looks doubtful)
	I'd pay you.  I'd pay you 1000 dollars.

		RIPLEY
	I've always wanted to go to Europe, sir,
	but...

		HERBERT GREENLEAF
	Good. Now you can go for a reason.

INT. RIPLEY'S APARTMENT, NEW YORK. DAY.

A vinyl RECORD revolves in close up.  An exuberant and
mysterious VOICE is scat singing. Wild. Then the sound slides
into a raucous big band jazz number:  Dizzy Gillespie's The
Champ. A HAND ejects the record. When the camera finds the
man's face it is BLINDFOLDED. He's hot. He's wearing an
undershirt. He's trying to identify the recording.

		RIPLEY (O/S)
	I don't know. Count Basie?  Duke
	Ellington. I don't know. Count Basie.

The man pulls of the blindfold, examines the record cover of
the disc he's been trying to learn, needs to put on glasses
to do so, is irritated by his mistake. He ejects the record.

A pile of other jazz records are strewn across a cluttered
table which includes classical sheet music and a paper
keyboard. One hand idly mimes at the keys.

INT. RIPLEY'S APARTMENT. DAY.

Another song for Ripley to identify is on the gramophone.
Chet Baker's My Funny Valentine.  Signs everywhere of
packing. A suitcase. Books about Italy.  Ripley paces in this
BASEMENT room, which is bathroom, kitchen, living room and
bedroom all in one.  Tiny, tidy, squalid and sad. The windows
give onto bars and a wall.

		RIPLEY
	Don't even know if this is a man or a
	woman.

There's a violent row going on in the room above his head. He
flinches.

INT. RIPLEY'S APARTMENT. DAY.

Ripley, shining his shoes, packing almost done, is testing
himself on another piece of music. Free jazz saxophone:
Charlie Parker's Koko.  He listens hard, recognizes the
track.

		RIPLEY
	That's Charlie Parker. Bird.

He skips over to the gramophone, checks the record. He's
right, he smiles.

INT. RIPLEY'S APARTMENT. DAY.

Ripley studies an old photograph of Dickie Greenleaf in a
Princeton Yearbook. He shoves the book in a bag, picks up
his suitcase and takes a last look around the dingy apartment
before closing the door behind him.

EXT. RIPLEY'S APARTMENT. DAY.

Ripley hauls his luggage up the stairs and into the sunlight.
He is met at the top of the stairs by Mr Greenleaf's
chauffeur.

		CHAUFFEUR
	Here.  I'll take that.

		RIPLEY
	Thanks.

		CARETAKER
		(nodding towards the apartment)
	That thousand bucks should come in handy.

		RIPLEY
	Yes, sir.

		CHAUFFEUR
		(interupts Ripley, who is
		about to open the car door)
	I'll get that.

		RIPLEY
	Thanks.

		CHAUFFEUR
		(as he holds open the door for
		Ripley)
	Sir.
		(Ripley laughs excitedly)
	You're gonna have a great trip.  Mr
	Greenleaf is personal friends with the
	Cunard people.

INT. HERBERT GREENLEAF'S CAR. DAY.

Ripley luxuriates in the back of the Greenleaf limousine. He
opens up an envelope he's carrying with Greenleaf stationery.
Inside a First Class Cunard Ticket, some traveler's checks
and dollars.

		CHAUFFEUR
	I can tell you.  The Greenleaf name opens
	a lot of doors.

EXT. QUEEN MARY, MANHATTAN SKYLINE. DAY.

The liner leaves New York en route to Italy.  END CREDITS.

INT. NAPLES HARBOR, CUSTOMS & IMMIGRATION HALL. DAY.

ITALY. Brilliant sunshine. The Queen Mary has just docked.
Passengers can be seen disembarking through the huge windows.
Coming from the First Class gangways they are greeted,
escorted, fussed over into the hall.  Their bags have been
unloaded ahead of them, and are now being sorted in the hall
under the initials of their owners.  STANDS WITH THE LETTERS
OF THE ALPHABET CHALKED ON THEM are dotted about, and trunks
and suitcases of all shapes and sizes form small hills around
them. Ripley enters and an Italian Porter approaches, wants
his name.  Ripley. Ripley. Ripley! he repeats in the hubbub
and joins the crowd around the letter R.  A striking young
woman (MEREDITH) is nearby. She notices him.

Ripley proceeds to the Customs area, where he's held in a
line as a large suitcase is opened and searched. Meredith
catches up with him. Her luggage a mountain next to his.

		MEREDITH
	What's your secret?

		RIPLEY
	Excuse me?

		MEREDITH
	No, it's just - you are American, aren't
	you? - no, I just, I have so much
	luggage, and you're so, uh, streamlined.
	It's humiliating.

Ripley shrugs.  Now they're opening a second case of the
passenger ahead.  Hard not to converse.

		MEREDITH (cont'd)
	I'm Meredith, by the way. Meredith
	Randall.

		RIPLEY
	Dickie, Dickie Greenleaf. Hello.

		MEREDITH
	Hello.

They are passed through immigration, head down the long
stairs towards the street.  Meredith catches up with Ripley.

		MEREDITH (cont'd)
	You're not the Shipping Greenleaf's?

		RIPLEY
		(thinking quickly)
	Trying not to be. Trying to jump ship.

		MEREDITH
	So now, did they put your suitcase in the
	wrong pile? It's just - upstairs -
	weren't you under the R stand? I thought
	I saw you there.

		RIPLEY
	My father wants me in New York. He builds
	boats. I'd rather sail them.  I travel
	under my mother's name.

		MEREDITH
	Which is?

		RIPLEY
	Emily.
		(Meredith's bewildered)
	Just kidding.

		MEREDITH
	The funny thing is, I'm not Randall
	either. I'm Logue.

		RIPLEY
		(nods, recognizing the name)
	As in the...?

		MEREDITH
	As in the Textile Logues. Trying to shrug
	off the dress. I travel under my mother's
	name, too.

		RIPLEY
	Randall.

		MEREDITH
	Right.

They've arrived at a crossroads on the stairs - graphic signs
explain the choices: one way for Buses, Taxis and exits - the
other for Trains: ROMA, VENEZIA, MILANO.  They're going in
different directions.

		MEREDITH (cont'd)
		(offering her hand)
	So - partners in disguise.
		(looks at the signs)
	Bye.

EXT. COASTAL ROAD FROM NAPLES. LATE AFTERNOON.

A BUS rolls around a coastal road cut into the side of a
cliff, mountain above, blue sea below.

INT. BUS. LATE AFTERNOON.

Ripley sits surrounded by teeming life. The bus slows at a
new town. People get off.

INT/EXTERIOR. BUS ARRIVES MONGIBELLO. LATE DAY.

Later, the day ending. Ripley looks out as they continue on
their journey. Arriving at a small fishing port they wind
down through a square, passing the local church.

EXT. MONGIBELLO, FISHERMAN'S WHARF. LATE DAY.

And then the bus is in the heart of a wharf. On one side
there's evidence of the fisherman's life, nets, old men
working. Opposite there's a tiny cafe spilling out onto the
street, young guys hang out, play table football, lounge on
their Vespas. The Driver chants -

		DRIVER
	MONGIBELLO!

Ripley gets out, lugging his cases, as the bus continues on
its way. He looks around him. He feels completely foreign.

EXT. MIRAMARE HOTEL/BOAT AT SEA. MORNING.

A SAILBOAT has slid into his view, now drops anchor, drops
the sail.  A couple dive off and swim towards shore.

ALL OF THIS IS FROM THE POINT OF VIEW OF RIPLEY, who's
watching the events through binoculars from his tiny balcony
in the Miramare Hotel. An Italian Vocabulary Book is perched
on his knees and, during this, he continues his study,
mouthing the Italian words.

		RIPLEY
		(looking at a long, lean girl
		about to dive)
	La fidanzata a una faccia.  The fianc‚e
	has a face.  La fidanzata e Marge.

Her partner, DICKIE GREENLEAF, dives too. They're brown,
beautiful, perfect. Ripley notices the name of the boat:
"BIRD".

		RIPLEY (cont'd)
	Questo e la mia faccia.....

The golden couple emerge from the sea. Dickie shakes off the
water, grins.

		RIPLEY (cont'd)
	This is my face.

He double-checks himself with the vocabulary book.

		RIPLEY (cont'd)
	Questa...e la mia faccia. Questa e la
	faccia di Dickie.

EXT. MONGIBELLO. DAY.

Ripley emerges from one of the beach cabins, and stands on
the edge of the sand on a wooden walkway. He's wearing A TINY
LIME-GREEN BATHING SUIT. He loathes beaches. A couple of boys
turn laconically and watch him.

Ripley puts on his shoes and scurries to the sea. He feels
ridiculous, his skin alabaster against the brown bodies.
Finally, the shame is too great and he pulls off his shoes
and dashes to the water, where he luxuriates in the coolness
of it before wading out of the sea, and walking straight up
to Dickie.

		RIPLEY
	Dickie Greenleaf?

Dickie squints at Ripley, who holds his shoes, lamely.

		DICKIE
	Who's this?

		RIPLEY
	It's Tom. Tom Ripley. We were at
	Princeton together.

		DICKIE
	Okay.
		(he sits up)
	And did we know each other?

		RIPLEY
	Well, I knew you, so I suppose you must
	have known me.

		DICKIE
		(to Marge)
	Princeton is like a fog, America's like a
	fog.
		(to Ripley)
	This is Marge Sherwood. Tom - sorry, what
	was it?

		RIPLEY
	Ripley. Hullo. How do you do.

		MARGE
	How do you do.

		DICKIE
	What are you doing in Mongi?

		RIPLEY
	Nothing. Nothing much. Passing through.

		DICKIE
		(finds this idea absurd)
	Passing through! You're so white. Did you
	ever see a guy so white, Marge?  Gray,
	actually.

		RIPLEY
	It's just an undercoat.
		(Marge laughs)

		DICKIE
	Say again?

		RIPLEY
	You know, a primer.

		DICKIE
	That's funny.

He shares some intimacy with Marge, makes her laugh.  Ripley
stands as they wrestle around him. Marge looks up.

		MARGE
	You should come and have lunch with us,
	before you go - Dickie?

		DICKIE
	Sure.  Any time.

		MARGE
	And be careful in the sun. Your gray's in
	danger of turning a little pink.

		RIPLEY
	Thanks. Well, a coincidence.

EXT. MONGIBELLO. EARLY MORNING.

ANOTHER DAY.  Church Bells ringing. Dickie, dressed in
shorts, comes bumping up the cobbled path towards the square
on his MOTORSCOOTER. He stops by a steep flight of steps.
RIPLEY, a book in hand, unseen, walking up a hill, catches
all this and, intrigued, watches as a young Italian beauty,
SILVANA, has a spikey, flirtatious exchange with Dickie, then
climbs on the scooter, behind him.

		DICKIE
	I've been looking for you everywhere.

		SILVANA
	Ah, today you're looking for me.  And
	where have you been the rest of the week?
	Pig.  With your American girl?  I hate
	you, you know?

		DICKIE
	What?

		SILVANA
	I hate you.

And RIPLEY watches them as they rattle down the hill towards
the sea.

EXT. MARGE'S HOUSE. AFTERNOON.

Dickie appears in Marge's garden, the sea behind his head.
Marge is sitting at her outside table surrounded by some of
the remnants of lunch.  Dickie's sheepish, showered, late.

		DICKIE
	Sorry, sorry, sorry. I know, I'm late,
	I'm a swine.

		MARGE
	Did you forget where I live? It's four
	o'clock.

		DICKIE
	I just woke up.  I'm sorry.

		MARGE
	You just woke up!

		DICKIE
	Fausto and I - we took the boat out, we
	were fishing, and then it was dawn and
	we'd caught absolutely nothing.

		MARGE
	Well, we ate everything without you.

		DICKIE
	We?

		MARGE
	Yes, Tom Ripley's here.

As Ripley appears with the tray to collect more dishes.

		DICKIE
	Who? Oh, Tom, hello, how are you? We
	thought you'd disappeared. We were going
	to send out a search party.

		RIPLEY
	No, still here.

		MARGE
	Tom was telling me about his trip over.
	Made me laugh so much I got a nosebleed.

		DICKIE
	Is that good?

		MARGE
	Shut up!

Marge flicks him with a napkin. They start to wrestle,
excluding Tom.

		RIPLEY
	I'm intruding.

		DICKIE
	Can you mix a martini?

		RIPLEY
		(hesitant)
	Sure.

		MARGE
		(going inside)
	I'll do it. I make a fabulous martini.

		DICKIE
	Everybody should have one talent.
		(to Ripley)
	What's yours?

		RIPLEY
		(without a beat)
	Forging signatures. Telling lies.
	Impersonating practically anybody.

		DICKIE
		(enjoying this banter)
	That's three. Nobody should have more
	than one talent. Okay, do an impression.

		RIPLEY
	Now?  Okay.  Wait a minute.  Talent -
		(his voice ages, his face
		changes)
	The only talent my son has is for cashing
	his allowance.

		DICKIE
		(absolutely thrown)
	What? What's this?

		RIPLEY
	I like to sail, believe me, I love to
	sail! Instead I make boats and other
	people sail them.

		DICKIE
		(incredibly impressed)
	Stop! It's too much!  You're making all
	the hairs on my neck stand up!

		RIPLEY
		(relishing it)
	Jazz, let's face it, it's just an
	insolent noise.

		DICKIE
	I feel like he's here. Horrible. Like the
	old bastard is here right now!  That's
	brilliant!  How do you know him?

		RIPLEY
	I met him in New York.

		DICKIE
	Marge! You've got to hear this!

		MARGE
		(returning with the drinks)
	What?  What?

		DICKIE
	Meet my father, Herbert Richard Greenleaf
	1st.

		RIPLEY
	Pleasure to meet you, Dickie's made a
	fine catch. I know Emily thinks so.

		MARGE
	What's going on?

		DICKIE
	Uncanny!

		MARGE
	I don't get it.

		RIPLEY
	Could you ever conceive of going there,
	Tom, and bringing him back?

		DICKIE
	What?

		RIPLEY
	I'd pay you. If you would go to Italy and
	persuade my son to come home. I'd pay you
	$1000.

INT/EXT. MONGIBELLO CHURCH AND SQUARE. DUSK.

A christening is over and now the whole village is pouring
out of Church for the Passeggiata in Sunday best. Girls arm
in arm parade. Boys arm in arm evaluate. New babies are
compared and fussed over. Old people smoke, talk, shrug.
Dickie is walking with Ripley, seething about his father's
scheming.

		DICKIE
	I'm never going back. To actually hire
	somebody to come all the way here to drag
	me back home - got to be insane, hasn't
	he?

SILVANA comes out of church arm in arm with a man, her
fiancee, as part of a foursome which includes Dickie's pal
FAUSTO. Silvana's eyes flick towards Dickie, otherwise
there's no acknowledgement as they all greet each other.
Dickie introduces Tom, then they move on.

		DICKIE (cont'd)
	I'm never going back!

		RIPLEY
	No, I think your mother, her illness -

		DICKIE
	It's got nothing to do with my mother!
	She's had leukemia for - ! This is what
	makes me boil about him! HE wants me
	back! - it's got nothing to do with my
	mother.

		RIPLEY
	I don't know, Dickie, I'm just telling
	you what I -

		DICKIE
		(interrupting)
	Go back!  Go back to New York or call him
	if you can find a telephone that works,
	and tell him wild horses wouldn't drag me
	back to him or his shipyard.

EXT. DICKIE'S HOUSE, MONGIBELLO. AFTERNOON.

Ripley appears, with his meagre luggage at Dickie's front
door. He's carrying his tote bag under his arm, the bottom of
which seems to be unstitched and held together only by his
fingers. Marge is on the terrace, she looks down to see Tom
talking with Dickie.

		MARGE
	Hi Tom.

		DICKIE
		(looks up)
	Marge, Ripley's saying goodbye.

		MARGE
	I'll come down.

		DICKIE
		(to Ripley)
	Did you speak to my father?

		RIPLEY
	You were right about the telephones.
	There are no lines, there's some problem.

		MARGE
		(coming out of the front door)
	Hello Tom. You're off? What are your
	plans?

		RIPLEY
	Back, I suppose, slowly as I can.

He goes to shake her hand and as he releases the tote bag the
seam splits and records spill to the ground, scattering. He
bends down, starts gathering them up. Marge helps.

		RIPLEY (cont'd)
	Oh, damn, sorry, this bag's -

Dickie's delighted when he sees the Jazz titles.

		DICKIE
	You like jazz!

		RIPLEY
		(gathering up the records)
	I love jazz.

		DICKIE
		(holding up a Chet Baker)
	This is the best. Marge says she likes
	jazz, but she things Glenn Miller is
	jazz.

		MARGE
	I never said that!

		RIPLEY
	Bird. That's jazz.

		DICKIE
	Bird! Ask me the name of my sailboat -

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

		DICKIE
	Bird!

		MARGE
	Which is ridiculous. Boats are female,
	everyone knows you can't call a boat
	after a man.

		RIPLEY
	He's not a man, he's a god.

		DICKIE
		(excited)
	Okay, we're going to Naples. There's a
	club, it's not a club, it's a cellar.

		MARGE
	It's vile.

		DICKIE
	Yes, it's vile. Don't worry, you don't
	have to come.
		(to Ripley)
	It's great.  You're going to love it.

INT. JAZZ CLUB, NAPLES. NIGHT.

A cavern blue with smoke. A surprisingly good QUINTET blast
out their version of MOANIN'. Dickie and Ripley arrive and
make their way to a table where Fausto is sitting with
friends. It's too noisy for conversation, but Dickie shouts
introductions and they shake Ripley's hand.  Dickie is
instantly absorbed in the music, Ripley absorbed in Dickie.
An attractive Italian Girl, DAHLIA, comes over, kisses
Dickie, pulls off his hat, puts it on, there's no room for
her to sit, so she sits on Dickie's lap, smoking his
cigarette.  Dickie raises his eyebrow at Tom, but it's
clearly no hardship. Then the band strikes up the intro to Tu
vuo' fa' L'Americano - a hit which reflects the current craze
for all things American - and Fausto pulls a protesting Dickie
up onto the stage.

		FAUSTO
		(improvising in Italian)
	Ladies and Gentlemen. Dickie Greenleaf,
	all the way from America... etc.

Fausto starts to sing. Dickie joins in the chorus. Everybody
claps. Dickie talks off-mic to Fausto.

		FAUSTO (cont'd)
	And a big round of applause for a new
	friend from New York - Tom Ripley!

Ripley's mortified, but Dickie jumps off the stage and pulls
him up.  The song continues and now, at the chorus, it's
Dickie and Ripley who have to sing. Ripley, of course, can
sing well, if not confident in this arena. Soon the audience
is clapping, standing on tables, dancing, Dahlia prominent.

		DICKIE (O/S)
		(reading)
	I have bumped into an old friend from
	Princeton - a fellow named Tom Ripley.
	He says he's going to haunt me until I
	agree to come back to New York with
	him...

INT. DICKIE'S HOUSE. NOON.

Dickie, in his new dressing gown, is sitting at the table,
typing. Ripley's head emerges from behind the couch on which
he has been enjoying a blissful sleep.

		DICKIE
		(grins)
	Good afternoon!

		RIPLEY
	What time is it?
		(puts on his glasses and checks
		his watch)
	Oh God!  Do you always type your letters?
		(points at the letter)
	That should be two Ts.

		DICKIE
	I can't write and I can't spell.  That's
	the privilege of a first-class education.
	You're upstairs at the back. I think
	Ermelinda made the bed up.

		RIPLEY
	This is so good of you.

		DICKIE
	Don't say it again. Now you're a Double
	Agent and we're going to string my Dad
	alone, I was thinking we might buy a
	little car with the expense money he's
	sending you. What do you think, Marge...a
	little Cinquecento with my Dad's money?

Marge has appeared, carrying Camparis.

		MARGE
	Dickie, you can't even drive a car!  No,
	what we need urgently is an icebox. What
	do you think, Tom? Agree with me and I'll
	be your friend for life.

		RIPLEY
	I absolutely agree with Marge.

INT. DICKIE'S HOUSE, UPSTAIRS. DAY.

Ripley locates his room, puts down his luggage in what is a
comfortable and simple room, then heads back downstairs only
to be tempted by the open door of Dickie's bedroom.

INT. DICKIE'S BEDROOM. DAY.

Ripley explores the casual elegance of Dickie's bedroom - the
Louis Vuitton chest, the closet's open door spilling out
shirts, ties. On the dressing table there are toiletries,
cufflinks scattered, a silk tie.  Ripley picks up the tie and
walks towards the open window below which is a terrace where
lunch is being laid. Marge and Dickie are chatting. Shreds of
conversation float up to Ripley.

		DICKIE
	It'll just be for a little while.  He can
	be... he makes me laugh.

		MARGE
	Okay, darling.

		DICKIE
	You'd say if you mind?

		MARGE
	No, I like him.

		DICKIE
	Marge, you like everybody.

		MARGE
	I don't like you.

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

Above them, Ripley repeats these phrases, carefully, testing
the cadences, No, I like him. Marge, you like everybody,
until he's as accurate as a taperecorder.

EXT. TERRACE OF DICKIE'S HOUSE. DAY.

Ermelinda is clearing away lunch. Ripley is changed and
sitting at the table with Marge while Dickie works on the
coffee. Ripley watches him, studying everything: the way he
uses the expresso machine, the way he wears no socks, his
pants, his rings.

		DICKIE
	Now you know why Miss Sherwood always
	shows up for breakfast.  It's not love
	it's the coffee machine.

		MARGE
	It's the one task Dickie can do on his
	own - make coffee.

		DICKIE
	Shut up.

		MARGE
	Oh darling - is that for me?

		DICKIE
	No it's for Tom as he didn't complain.

		RIPLEY
		(as Dickie hands him his cup)
	That ring's so great. The green one.

		MARGE
		(delighted)
	Tom, I love you!
		(to Dickie)
	See!
		(to Ripley)
	I bought it for him, for his birthday.

		RIPLEY
	It's superb.

		DICKIE
	I had to promise, capital P, never to
	take it off - otherwise I'd give it to
	you.

		MARGE
		(flicking a crumb at him)
	Bastard!
		(to Ripley)
	Isn't it great, Tom? I found it in
	Naples.  I bargained for about two weeks.

		DICKIE
	I hope it wasn't cheap.

		MARGE
	Oh, it was.

		RIPLEY
		(to Marge)
	I have to find a birthday present for
	Frances. Perhaps you can help me?

		MARGE
	Frances?

		RIPLEY
	My fianc‚e.

		DICKIE
	You're a dark horse, Ripley. Engaged?

		RIPLEY
	Your parents met her.

		DICKIE
	Oh God - I can just imagine - if only
	Dickie would settle down... doesn't every
	parent deserve a grandchild?  Never! I
	swear on your ring, Marge.  I am never
	going back.

EXT. BIRD SAILBOAT. DAY.

The Bird is sailing off the coast of Mongibello. There's a
manoeuvre going on with the sail.  Captain Dickie supervises
his crew of Marge and a painfully awkward anxious-to-please
Ripley.  Dickie goes over to help him.

		RIPLEY
	I'm doing this wrong, aren't I?

		DICKIE
	You're doing great. We'll make a sailor
	of you yet. You're doing really well.

		MARGE
	Dubious but special honor, Tom - crewing
	Dickie's boat.  Alright, bar's open.

		DICKIE
	Yes please!

She heads for the cabin. Dickie settles down beside Ripley.

		RIPLEY
	Could we sail to Venice?

		DICKIE
	Sure.  I love Venice.

		RIPLEY
	I have to go to Venice.

		DICKIE
	See Venice and die, isn't that right? Or
	is it Rome? You do something and die,
	don't you?  Okay, Venice is on the list.

		RIPLEY
	And Rome.

		DICKIE
	Do you ski?
		(Ripley frowns)
	Don't tell me - you're a lost cause!
	That's the next thing to deal with. We're
	planning to go to Cortina at Christmas.
	Excellent skiing. Excellent.
		(as Marge reappears)
	Marge - Ripley can't ski.  We'll have to
	teach him that, too. Have you ever known
	such low class?

		MARGE
	Poor Tom. Good thing we're not getting
	married. We might have to invite him on
	our honeymoon.

EXT. MONGIBELLO. LATE DAY.

Marge and Ripley are on a shopping expedition. They walk down
the hill towards the grocery shop, next to the bar in the
little square. Ripley has asked Marge how she and Dickie met.

		MARGE
	Oh I hated New York - that Park Avenue
	crowd - so I fled to Paris to work on my
	book, and I was always going to this cafe
	with Jean-Jacques, and Dickie used to
	play his saxophone outside and I would
	see him and he would see me, and he would
	play My Funny Valentine. It was only
	later that I realised he only knows about
	six songs.

They've arrived at the Grocery Store. Alessandra, the woman
who owns the store greets them.  Silvana, who's her daughter,
is also there, and less comfortable. She waits for Marge's
order.

		MARGE (cont'd)
		(to Silvana, in Italian)
	Buono Sera, Silvana. Por favore: arance e
	pane, e del prosciutto.

		SILVANA
	E fichi?  Come sempre?

		MARGE
	Si.  Come sempre.  Grazie.

Silvana goes inside for the meat and bread. Marge frowns.

		MARGE (cont'd)
		(back to Ripley)
	Anyway, then one day, we go in, I see
	Dickie, he starts playing My Funny
	Valentine, and then all of a sudden he
	just walks into the cafe, right in front
	of Jean-Jacques, and grabs me! Now I had
	never spoken to him in my life - he said
	I'm going to Italy, tomorrow, and I want
	you to come with me. So I did.

At the edge of the square there's A BOCCE AREA, where men
throw metal balls along a track, aiming to get closest to a
small cue. Dickie is there, playing intensely with Fausto and
two other guys, one of whom we've seen before with Silvana.
Ripley and Marge loop back towards home, taking in the Bocce
en route. Dickie waves. They wave back. Marge calls to him.

		MARGE (cont'd)
	If you're not at my place by 7.00, Tom
	and I are running off together.

		DICKIE
	Okay.

EXT. MARGE'S HOUSE. EARLY EVENING.

Dickie and Ripley are leaving.  They're fooling around.
Dickie jumps on Ripley's shoulders. Marge watches from the
top of the garden.

EXT. MONGIBELLO SQUARE. EARLY EVENING.

Dickie and Ripley, still horsing about, pass Silvana's
grocery store.  Dickie dismounts, goes over to Silvana, who's
tense, a little troubled. They huddle, Ripley isolated.

		SILVANA
	Did you get my message?  I want to talk
	to you.

		DICKIE
	I want to talk to you too...Smile for me.

And Dickie's already gone, back to Ripley feinting to box him
then dancing, satyr-like, down the hill.

EXT. COASTAL ROAD TO NAPLES. EVENING.

Dickie and Ripley on the Vespa. There's a steep incline where
the road winds down towards Naples and, as the Vespa gains
speed, Ripley is happy to cling to Dickie.

		DICKIE
	You're breaking my ribs!

		RIPLEY
	What?

		DICKIE
	You're breaking my ribs!

INT. JAZZ CLUB, NAPLES. NIGHT.

Ripley's really singing, carrying the burden of My Funny
Valentine in a flawless imitation of Chet Baker. Dickie is
playing some sax. After a verse, there's spontaneous
applause. Dickie, impressed beams at Ripley.

INT. DICKIE'S HOUSE. NIGHT.

A NEW ICEBOX, incongruous in pride of place in the living
room, casts its glow on a delighted Dickie as he pulls out a
couple of beers, handing one to Ripley who is paging through
his copy of the Collected Works of Shakespeare.

		DICKIE
	I could fuck this icebox I love it so
	much.
		(considering Ripley)
	What were you actually doing in New York?

		RIPLEY
	I played piano in a few places.

		DICKIE
	That's one job, you told me a lot of
	jobs.

		RIPLEY
	A few places - that's a few jobs. Anyway,
	I don't want to think about New York.

		DICKIE
	The mysterious Mr Ripley. Marge and I
	spend hours speculating.
		(drinking)
	Cold beer. Thank you Dad.

		RIPLEY
	Copy out from here...

He hands the book to Dickie, pointing out the lines.

		DICKIE
		(staring to write on the back
		of a postcard)
	I love the fact you brought Shakespeare
	with you and no clothes.  Ermelinda says
	you wash the same shirt out every night.
	Is that true?

		RIPLEY
	No! I've got more than one shirt!

		DICKIE
	She can do that stuff for you. Anyway,
	just wear some of my things, wear
	anything you want, most of it's ancient.
		(he's finished writing)

		RIPLEY
	Now your signature.
		(watching him write)
	Not "Dickie". Your signature.

Dickie writes his signature at the bottom of the postcard.
Ripley studies the writing, takes off his glasses to clean
them. Dickie looks at him.

		DICKIE
	Without the glasses you're not even ugly.
		(takes them, tries them on)
	I don't need them because I never read.
	How do I look.

		RIPLEY
	Like Clark Kent.
		(takes them back, puts them on
		beaming at Dickie)
	Now Superman.

Dickie cuffs him.  Ripley looks down at the postcard.

		DICKIE
	I know. I write like a child.

		RIPLEY
	Pretty vile. See this: The S and the T,
	do you see? - fine, vulnerable - that's
	pain, that's secret pain.

		DICKIE
	It must be a deep secret, cause I don't
	know about it.

		RIPLEY
	Your handwriting - nothing more naked.
	See - nothing's quite touching the line -
	that's vanity.

		DICKIE
		(flattered)
	Well we certainly know that's true.

INT. DICKIE'S BATHROOM. NIGHT.

Dickie's in the bath. Ripley, dressed, sits on the stool next
to the bath. They're in the middle of playing chess, the
board propped on the bath tray. Ripley puts his hand in the
water, checking the temperature. He turns on the faucet for a
burst of hot. Ripley is absurdly happy. He pours some wine.

		DICKIE
	Do you have any brothers?

		RIPLEY
	No, no brothers, no sisters.

		DICKIE
	me neither. Nor does Marge. All only
	children - what does that mean?

He looks at Ripley who looks at him, a little too long.

		RIPLEY
	Means we never shared a bath.
	I'm cold. Can I get in?

		DICKIE
	No!

		RIPLEY
	I didn't mean with you in it.

		DICKIE
		(standing)
	Okay, you get in. I'm like a prune
	anyway.

He gets out, walks past Ripley, who doesn't turn around. But
Dickie's reflected in the mirror. Ripley looks, then Dickie
turns, holds his look momentarily before flicking him with
his towel.

INT/EXT. AMERICAN EXPRESS OFFICE, NAPLES. DAY.

An OFFICIAL is studying Dickie's passport photograph. It's
not a recent picture. The official looks suspicious. Dickie
is used to it.

		DICKIE
	It is me. It's an old picture.
		(sighs at Ripley)
	Every time - 'is it you?  Doesn't look
	like you'.

He's signing for his allowance. He has a smart document case
with his initials prominently embossed.  Ripley watches him
sign and collect a large wad of notes.

		CLERK
	Letters - Greenleaf, and for Ripley.

Ripley collects and studies his mail. As they walk outside he
holds up one letter to Dickie.

		RIPLEY
	Fran.
		(anticipating her letter)
	I miss you, where are you coming home?
	Stop telling me what a great time you're
	having, how you love Dickie... and Marge
	and...
		(the next letter)
	And this one, I think, is your dad...

INT. TRAIN TO ROME. DAY.

Ripley sits reading the LETTER from Herbert Greenleaf.  He
frowns, stops reading, looks out of the window.

		DICKIE
	What does he say?

		RIPLEY
	He's getting impatient. He wants me to
	reassure him you'll be home by
	Thanksgiving.

		DICKIE
	You've got to get a new jacket. Really.
	You must be sick of the same clothes. I'm
	sick of seeing you in them.

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

		DICKIE
	I love how responsible you are. My Dad
	should make you Chief Accountant or
	something.  Let me buy you a jacket.
	There's a great place when we get to
	Rome, Batistoni.

Ripley loves this idea and mouths the word, "Batistoni".

		DICKIE (cont'd)
	Andiamo a Roma.  We're taking Tom to
	Roma!

EXT. ARCARI'S CAFE, PIAZZA NAVONA, ROME. DAY.

Ripley and Dickie sit outside at a Cafe in the Piazza Navona.
Very smart, very sophisticated, very young crowd.  There are
already several empty coffee cups and a half empty bottle of
Frascati.  Ripley has his guide book out and is incredibly
impatient. Dickie, meanwhile, has stretched out for the
duration.

		RIPLEY
	Where do we find a carozza for the Forum,
	or can we hire any of them - ?

		DICKIE
	Relax.

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

		DICKIE
	Relax. The most important question is
	where to eat. I hope Freddie made a
	reservation.

		RIPLEY
	Freddie?

		DICKIE
	Freddie Miles.  You know - he's
	organizing the Cortina skiing trip.

Ripley hates the idea of having this special day invaded. A
horn makes him look up as FREDDIE MILES illegally parks his
open top sports car opposite the cafe, sees Dickie and
bustles over.  He's a heavy-set American with a reddish
crewcut. Ripley finds him disgusting to look at. Dickie is
delighted.

		DICKIE (cont'd)
	Frederico!

		FREDDIE
	Ciao bello.
		(noticing a beautiful woman in
		an open-topped car)
	Don't you want to fuck every woman you
	see.  Just once.

They kiss cheeks, continental-style.

		DICKIE
	This is Tom Ripley. Freddie Miles.

		FREDDIE
		(mugging)
	Hey, if I'm late, think what her
	husband's saying!

He fills Dickie's glass with wine and drinks it standing up.

		FREDDIE (cont'd)
	So let's go. I got us a table outside at
	Fabrizio's.

And Dickie's up, leaving Ripley to pick up all the tiny
checks to work out the bill and pay it.

		DICKIE
	I'll tell you - I am so cabin-crazy with
	Mongi.

Freddie and Dickie link arms Italian-style and cross the
street to Freddie's car.

		FREDDIE
	I know.  I was there.
		(looks back to see Ripley
		struggling to settle the
		check)
	Tommy!  It's S.R.O.  Two seater.
	Standing Room Only.  Chop, chop, Tommy!

Ripley, abandoned, goes over. There's no room in the car. He
has to crouch in the rear.

		FREDDIE (cont'd)
	You're going to have to sit between us.
	But don't put your shoes on the seat,
	know what I mean, put them one on top of
	the other.  Okay?

INT. A JAZZ RECORD STORE. LATE AFTERNOON.

This record store is hidden away down a cobbled alley, and
stuffed with the trendiest Romans, all of whom rifle the
stacks under a fog of cigarette smoke.  There are two
LISTENING BOOTHS, one of which has Freddie and Dickie crammed
into it, sharing a set of headphones.  Ripley stands outside
the booth, holding both of their jackets like a manservant,
while inside and behind the glass doors they chat animatedly.
He looks longingly at the street, where the light is fading.
Dickie catches his hangdog expression and pushes open the
accordion doors.

		DICKIE
	Look, Tom, we've got to go to a club and
	meet some friends of Freddie's. The best
	thing is - if you want to be a tourist -
	grab a cab and we can meet up at the
	railway station.

		RIPLEY
		(absolutely crestfallen)
	What club?

		DICKIE
	Freddie's arranged it with some of the
	skiing crowd. Come if you want but I
	thought you wanted to see the Forum...?

		RIPLEY
	I did. And then maybe get the jacket and
	what have you...

		FREDDIE
		(from inside the booth)
	Dick - you've got to hear this!

		DICKIE
		(oblivious to Ripley's pain)
	Listen, just take one of mine when we get
	back. Don't worry about it.  I did the
	Forum with Marge and, frankly, once is
	enough in anyone's life.

Ripley hands him the coats, turns away.

		DICKIE
	Ciao.  Have fun.

Ripley heads for the door, then comes back, raps on the
booth.  Dickie pushes it open.

		RIPLEY
	You said to make sure you didn't miss the
	train. It leaves at eight.

EXT. THE CAPITOL. LATE AFTERNOON.

Ripley hikes up Michelangelo's Arcoeli Steps. Then he's
looking down from the Campodoglio at the Forum below. Then
he's walking by the oversized fragments of the Colossus. This
is the real Ripley, the lover of beauty, inspired by art, by
antiquity. He's awed. He's cold. He so much wishes he weren't
alone.

INT. ROME RAILWAY STATION. NIGHT.

It's past eight, Ripley stands, one foot on the guard step of
the Naples train, waiting forlornly for Dickie, then giving
up as the train pulls away. He pulls the door to his
compartment closed, and sits inside the train alone.

INT. DICKIE'S BEDROOM. NIGHT.

There's music playing, Bing Crosby's "May I". Very loud.
Ripley dances to the mirror, SPECTACLES ABANDONED and DRESSED
AS DICKIE IN HIS TUXEDO, MINUS TROUSERS. He adjusts his hair,
catches one of Dickie's expressions.  There are clothes
abandoned everywhere.  He's been having a big dressing-up
session. He sings along with Bing.

		DICKIE (O/S)
	What are you doing?

Ripley turns, horrified, to see Dickie standing in the
doorway.  The music thumps away.

		RIPLEY
	Oh - just amusing myself.  Sorry, Dickie.
		(pause)
	I didn't think you were coming back.

Dickie turns off the record player.

		DICKIE
	I wish you'd get out of my clothes.

Ripley starts undressing, his fingers clumsy with
mortification and shock.  Dickie looks at his feet, shakes
his head.

		DICKIE (cont'd)
	Shoes too?

		RIPLEY
		(lame, ashamed)
	You said I could pick out a jacket and I
	just... Sorry.

		DICKIE
	Get undressed in your own room, would
	you?

		RIPLEY
	I thought you'd missed the train.

		DICKIE
	Freddie drove me back in his car.

		RIPLEY
		(horrified)
	Is Freddie here?

		DICKIE
	He's downstairs.

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

Dickie lets him leave and then sits amongst the debris of the
dressing-up session, not amused.

EXT. DICKIE'S TERRACE. DAY.

Ripley comes down, apprehensive, to find Marge and Dickie and
Freddie having a jolly breakfast on the terrace. Dickie looks
perfectly happy.

		MARGE
	Hi, Tom.  Come join us.

		FREDDIE
	I want this job of yours, Tommy. I was
	just saying - You live in Italy, sleep in
	Dickie's house, eat Dickie's food, wear
	his clothes, and his father picks up the
	tab. If you get bored, let me know, I'll
	do it!

EXT. THE OCEAN, ABOARD THE BIRD. DAY.

The boat is drifting.  Freddie and Dickie and Marge are
swimming, then Marge climbs back onto the boat, where Ripley
is sitting alone, reading.

		MARGE
	You really should go in, it's marvellous.

		RIPLEY
	I'm fine.

She approaches him, conscious of his isolation. She's in a
red bikini, and she towels herself dry as they speak.

		MARGE
	Are you okay?

		RIPLEY
	Sure.

They watch Dickie and Freddie fooling around in the water.

		MARGE
	The thing with Dickie - it's like the sun
	shines on you and it's glorious, then he
	forgets you and it's very very cold.

		RIPLEY
	So I'm learning.

		MARGE
	He's not even aware of it. When you've
	got his attention you feel like you're
	the only person in the world. That's why
	everybody loves him. Other times...

There's a yell from Dickie as Freddie wrestles with him.

		DICKIE
		(laughing and choking)
	He's drowning me!

		MARGE
	It's always the same whenever someone new
	comes into his life - Freddie, Fausto,
	Peter Smith-Kingsley - he's wonderful -
	did you meet him, he's a musician? -
	... and especially you, of course... and
	that's only the boys.

They watch as Freddie pushes Dickie under the surface.

		MARGE (cont'd)
	Tell me, why is it when men play they
	always play at killing each other...?
	I'm sorry about Cortina by the way.

		RIPLEY
	What about Cortina?

		MARGE
	Didn't Dick say? - he talked to
	Freddie... apparently it's not going to
	work out -
		(Ripley's devastated, Marge
		notices, can't look at him)
	Freddie says there aren't enough rooms.

EXT. OCEAN, ABOARD THE BIRD. DUSK.

LATER and now the boat is sailing again. Ripley is sitting in
his spot. Dickie and Freddie are at the tiller.

		DICKIE
	Come on, Frederico, do you really have
	to go back?  At least stick around for
	the Festival of the Madonna.

		FREDDIE
	I don't think so. Come back with me to
	Rome. There's this great new club.  Have
	some drinks, lotta ladies...

Marge, still in her bikini, disappears into the cabin. Dickie
makes a face at Freddie.

		DICKIE
	Do you think you can steer this thing?

		FREDDIE
	Sure.

		DICKIE
	Just point her at Capri and avoid the
	rocks.

		FREDDIE
	What are you doing?

		DICKIE
	Marge-maintenance.

		FREDDIE
	Aye, aye.

Dickie heads towards the cabin. Freddie takes over the
tiller. There's a breeze and the sailboat cuts through the
water.

From where Ripley sits he can see Capri in the distance, but
he can also look down into the cabin, its porthole offering
him a restricted view.  He looks down and there's a flash of
flesh, then nothing.  Then as the boat swings with the waves,
he glimpses the bikini top flung over a chair, and then
Marge's bare foot kicking out rhythmically, the red-painted
toes straining.  Ripley's mesmerized, aroused, and absolutely
betrayed.

		FREDDIE (cont'd)
	Tommy - How's the peeping? Come on Tommy,
	you were looking.  Tommy Tommy Tommy.

Shamed, Ripley looks away. He stares at the water, parting
before the boat, its turmoil reflecting his.

EXT. DICKIE'S MOORING. DAY.

The Bird returns to the mooring by Dickie's House.  Dickie as
ever Captain of the Ship, clambering around, shouting
instructions, with Ripley, Marge and Freddie as crew.  Ripley
looks back at shore. Silvana stands watching, staring.
Dickie notices her too.

EXT. MONGIBELLO SLIPWAY. LATE DAY.

A WOMAN'S HEAD suddenly breaks the surface of the water.

It's a statue of the Virgin Mary, life size, adorned with
flowers and a lace veil.  As she is revealed, wooden,
staring, four men emerge, lifting the statue on a palette,
wading towards the shore, the Madonna aloft on their
shoulders.

The whole town of Mongibello is in attendance for this Annual
Festival of the Madonna del Mare, either standing in their
fishing boats, or on shore and flanking the Parish Priest and
altar boys and incense. RIPLEY, DICKIE and MARGE watch from
Dickie's terrace. There are hymns and, as the statue is
carried to the shore, the men's heads barely above the waves,
the congregation applauds at the illusion that the Madonna is
walking on water.

Suddenly ANOTHER HEAD appears on the surface of the water,
about fifty yards from the statue. There's a scream from
among the crowd as someone notices the body. It's SILVANA.
One of the MEN carrying the statue turns first towards the
direction of the scream and then towards the floating corpse.
It's Silvana's fiancee, and in a second he has let go of the
palette, CAUSING IT TO TOPPLE, and - in absolute grief -
wades, swims, splashes towards the body.

PANDEMONIUM in the crowd, which breaks up, with other people
splashing, fully clothed, into the water. From the terrace,
Ripley turns and looks at Dickie, catching his eye.

EXT. DICKIE'S TERRACE. LATE DAY.

Marge and Ripley and Dickie watch from the terrace as below
them an AMBULANCE takes away the body. It seems as if the
whole town looks on - fiancee, parents, brothers, sisters,
police, priest, etc. As the corpse is loaded into the vehicle
A BRIEF SCUFFLE occurs between Silvana's fiancee and her
brother. They are pulled apart. Then the ambulance pulls
away.

		RIPLEY
	What's the fight about? That's her
	fianc‚, isn't it?  Are they blaming him?

		DICKIE
		(sharp)
	I don't know! Why are you asking me?
		(agitated)
	How can it take an hour to find an
	ambulance?

		MARGE
		(conciliatory)
	Well, she was already dead, darling,
	wasn't she, so I suppose -

		DICKIE
	I don't know why people say this
	country's civilised. It isn't. It's
	fucking primitive.

And with that HE KICKS OUT VIOLENTLY AT A CHAIR SUPPORTING
THE RECORDPLAYER. Records, machine, chair go flying across
the terrace. Dickie storms inside.

		MARGE
	Dickie!

		RIPLEY
	I'll go and see what's the matter.

		MARGE
	I'll go.

INT. DICKIE'S HOUSE. LATE AFTERNOON.

Later, Dickie is slumped in an armchair at the open window
overlooking the slipway. He's playing sax. A forlorn, keening
phrase from YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT LOVE IS. Ripley appears,
begins tidying the mess in the living room.  He picks up
empty bottles, an abandoned bikini top.

		RIPLEY
	I know why you're upset.
		(Dickie continues playing)
	I know about Silvana, Dickie. About you
	and Silvana.

Dickie stops playing.

		DICKIE
	What about us?

He now has an armful of dishes and glasses and bottles.

		DICKIE (cont'd)
		(losing his temper)
	You don't have to clean up! Really!

Ripley disappears into the kitchen.

		DICKIE (cont'd)
		(as Ripley returns)
	She was pregnant. Did you know that? Do
	you know what that means in a place like
	this?

		RIPLEY
	I'm prepared to take the blame.

		DICKIE
	What are you talking about?

		RIPLEY
	You've been so good to me. You're the
	brother I never had. I'm the brother you
	never had.

		DICKIE
	She came to me for help, she needed
	money, and I didn't help her. I didn't
	help her. Now she's dead and it's my
	fault.

		RIPLEY
	I'm not going to say anything - to Marge,
	or anybody, the police - It's a secret
	between us and I'll keep it.

And he disappears again, leaving Dickie to resume the sax,
somehow in thrall to Ripley.

		RIPLEY (O/S)
	Dear Tom, I think the time has come to
	discontinue your expense checks...

EXT. AMERICAN EXPRESS, NAPLES. DAY.

Ripley and Dickie are walking out of the American Express
Office, Dickie pushing the rest of his money into his case,
Ripley - despondent - reading aloud extracts from a letter
from Herbert Greenleaf -

		RIPLEY
	...The thousand dollars, of course, was
	only due in the event that you succeeded
	in bringing Dickie home. Naturally, I
	hope the trip has afforded you some
	pleasure despite the failure of its main
	objective you need no longer consider
	yourself obligated to us in any way...

		DICKIE
	You can't blame him.  You could hardly
	expect this to go on forever.

		RIPLEY
	I thought you might write again. Now that
	we're brothers...

		DICKIE
	I can't, how can I, in all decency? We've
	had a good run, haven't we?

		RIPLEY
		(increasingly miserable)
	What about Venice? Can we stick to that
	plan at least?

		DICKIE
	I don't think so, Tom. You can't stay on
	here without money.  It's time we all
	moved on.  Besides I'm sick of Mongi.
	Especially now with everything - I really
	want to move to the North. I need to
	check out San Remo next week, find
	somewhere new to keep the boat.
	But it would be great, though, if you
	came with me.  Our last trip before you
	leave. There's a jazz festival - we could
	say goodbye in style.  What do you think?
	A last trip?

INT. TRAIN TO SAN REMO. AFTERNOON.

Dickie and Ripley travel up to San Remo. They sit next to
each other. Dickie's asleep. Ripley lays his head on Dickie's
shoulder, but as he does that, the ticket inspector announces
the San Remo stop, taps on the window and Dickie stirs. Then
Ripley plays his familiar game of studying his face in the
reflection of the train window, so that he can move his head
and see his reflection, then back and see Dickie's.  Dickie
suddenly catches him staring. Ripley looks away.

		DICKIE
		(terse)
	Why do you do that thing - with your
	neck? On trains you always do that thing,
	it's so spooky.

EXT. HOTEL TERRACE RESTAURANT, SAN REMO. NIGHT.

Dickie and Ripley walk through the terrace of an hotel which
lips out towards the sea. There's a restaurant and palms and
a JAZZ QUINTET playing, American. Very cool. They pass the
band. Dickie's captivated as they head for their table. They
pass some girls at a table. Dickie smiles greedily.

		DICKIE
	This is more like it. Didn't I tell you
	San Remo was crazy!

They're shown to a good table. Dickie watches the band while
their glasses are filled with champagne. Ripley looks happy.
He's got Dickie all to himself.

		RIPLEY
	To Mongibello and the happiest days of my
	life.

		DICKIE
	To Mongi.  You're cheerful tonight.

		RIPLEY
	I'm suddenly quite happy to be going
	back.

		DICKIE
	That's good.

		RIPLEY
	I've got plans!

		DICKIE
	Ripley's plans.

		RIPLEY
	Esatto. I'm always planning.

		DICKIE
	Did I know you at Princeton, Tom? I
	didn't, did I?

		RIPLEY
	Why are you asking all of a sudden?

		DICKIE
	No reason. Because you're leaving, I
	guess. I don't think you were there, were
	you?

		RIPLEY
	Why?

		DICKIE
	I mean it as a compliment. You've got
	such great taste, I don't know. Most of
	the thugs at Princeton had tasted
	everything and had no taste. Used to say,
	the cream of America: rich and thick.
	Freddie's the perfect example.

		RIPLEY
	Then I'll take it as a compliment.

		DICKIE
	I knew it! I had a bet with Marge!

		RIPLEY
		(a beat)
	Ha.

		DICKIE
	Do you even like jazz - or was that
	something for my benefit?

		RIPLEY
		(conceding, without guile)
	I've gotten to like it. I've gotten to
	like everything about the way you live.
	It's one big love affair. If you knew my
	life back home in New York...

Dickie's distracted by the drummer who's playing an extrovert
solo, doesn't hear the confession of love.

		DICKIE
	I'm thinking of giving up the sax, what
	do you think about drums?

		RIPLEY
	What?

		DICKIE
	So cool.

He mimes a high-hat and snare. Ripley can't quite credit this
- it's superficiality.

EXT. MID OCEAN. DAY.

The bay of San Remo. DICKIE and RIPLEY have hired a motor
boat.

		DICKIE
	That's how I found my place in Mongi.
	Took a boat out round the bay.  The first
	place I liked, I got it.

The motor boat is ploughing the waves. Dickie exhilarated by
the speed.

		RIPLEY
	Dickie, slow down, come on!

Ripley grips the oar, his knuckles white. Dickie cuts the
motor, and the boat slows to a crawl, miles from the shore.

		DICKIE
		(ecstatic)
	I love it here! Gonna live here!

Dickie takes off his jacket, then drums against the edge of
the boat, developing a rhythm with his lighter and fingers,
already on the way to becoming Buddy Rich.

		RIPLEY
	I wanted to tell you my plan.

		DICKIE
	So tell me.

		RIPLEY
	I thought I might come back. In the New
	Year. Under my own steam.

		DICKIE
		(suddenly tight)
	Really?  To Italy?

		RIPLEY
	Of course. Let's say, for argument's
	sake, you were here - perhaps we could
	split the rent on a house - I'll get a
	job - or, better still, I could get a
	place in Rome and when we're there we
	could be there and if we're here we could
	be here -

		DICKIE
	Oh God, I don't think so.

		RIPLEY
	- you see, particularly with the Marge
	problem, you can just blame me.

		DICKIE
	Marge and I are getting married.

		RIPLEY
		(appalled)
	How?

		DICKIE
	How?

		RIPLEY
	Yesterday you're ogling girls on the
	terrace, today you're getting married.
	It's absurd.

		DICKIE
	I love Marge.

		RIPLEY
	You love me and you're not marrying me.

		DICKIE
		(cold)
	Tom, I don't love you.

		RIPLEY
	No, no, it's not a threat, I've explained
	all of that.

		DICKIE
	I'm actually a little relieved you're
	going, to be honest. I think we've seen
	enough of each other for a while.

Ripley stares at him, his eyes suddenly reptilian.

		RIPLEY
	What?

		DICKIE
	You can be a leech - you know this - and
	it's boring. You can be quite boring.

		RIPLEY
		(volcanic)
	The funny thing - I'm not pretending to
	be somebody else and you are. I'm
	absolutely honest with you. I've told you
	my feelings. But you, first of all I know
	there's something - that evening when we
	played chess, for instance, it was
	obvious -

		DICKIE
		(incredulous)
	What evening?

		RIPLEY
	Sure - I know, that's too dangerous for
	you, fair enough, hey! we're brothers,
	fine, then you do this sordid thing with
	Marge, fucking her on the boat while we
	all have to listen, which was
	excruciating, frankly, plus you follow
	your cock around like a - and now you're
	getting married! I'm bewildered, forgive
	me...you're lying to Marge then getting
	married to her, you're knocking up
	Silvana, you've got to play sax, you've
	got to play drums, which is it, Dickie,
	what do you really play?

Dickie, furious, gets up, and lurches towards Ripley.

		DICKIE
		(attacking him, administering
		tiny slaps as punctuation to
		his tirade)
	Who are you - some imposter, some third
	class mooch - who are you to tell me
	anything? Actually, I really really
	really don't want to be on this boat with
	you, I can't move without you moving,
	which is exactly how it feels and it
	gives me the creeps.
		(he goes to rev up the engine)
	I can't move without - "Dickie, Dickie,
	Dickie" - like a little girl.  You give
	me the -

RIPLEY SMASHES HIM ACROSS THE HEAD WITH THE OAR. DICKIE SLIPS
OFF THE WOODEN SEAT, HIS EYES ROLLING IN GROGGY SURPRISE.

		RIPLEY
	Shut up! Just shut up! Just shut up!

The boat slows as Dickie releases the tiller.  Dickie looks
up at Ripley wearily and slides onto his back.

		DICKIE
	For God's sake.

Ripley, shocked at himself, goes to Dickie, rocking the boat,
catches him up, then is horrified to see Dickie's face,
apparently unmarked, SUDDENLY SPLIT OPEN, a line of blood and
then a peeling like a fruit bursting. Ripley's appalled.  A
terrible roar issues from Dickie as he launches himself at
Ripley.

		DICKIE (cont'd)
	I'll kill you!

Ripley finds himself pushing him away, picking up the oar,
kicking off Dickie's hand around his ankle. The boat is
rocking and swerving crazily as Dickie falls against the
tiller. Ripley almost loses his balance. His glasses come
off. They struggle, locked together in a life or death
wrestle to get control of the oar. Dickie's blinded by his
own blood, loses his grip.

Ripley, terrified, hits Dickie again and again, the oar like
a carpet-beater banging down flat, blood on the blade, blood
on Ripley, until he's on his knees, heaving for breath,
letting his arm drop, then realizing, disgusted, that he's
let it rest in a pool of blood. He starts to sob, sprawls
there, sobbing, next to Dickie, horrified by what he's done.

Nobody's in sight.  The boat rocks, gently, the sun sparkling
indifferently on the waves.  Ripley lies by Dickie in the
bottom of the boat, in the embrace he's always wanted.

The pretty blue-and-white boat rocks peacefully.  The sea
calms.

EXT. A COVE NEAR SAN REMO. AFTERNOON.

A deserted cove, several miles along the coast. Ripley
clambers onto a rock over the shore.  He's watching the boat
slowly sinking. Shuddering from the exertion, the cold, he
finds Dickie's jacket, puts it on and watches as the boat
disappears under the surface.

EXT. SAN REMO. DUSK.

Ripley walks back towards the hotel, still wearing Dickie's
jacket, cold and wet, his bag over his shoulder.

INT. HOTEL LOBBY. EARLY EVENING.

Ripley approaches the front desk.  He's shivering.  He's not
wearing his glasses.

		RIPLEY
	Can I have my key, please?

		RECEPTIONIST
		(at the key rack)
	Of course - But you must be very cold?
	Signor Greenleaf?  Yes? -

		RIPLEY
		(mind racing)
	No, it's - I'm...

EXT. ROAD BETWEEN NAPLES AND MONGIBELLO. DAY.

Ripley sits on the bus as it rumbles towards Mongi.  He
stares out of the window, full of what he's done. No idea
what to do.

EXT. MONGIBELLO, FISHERMAN'S WHARF. DAY.

The BUS comes into town. Ripley gets out, looks calm, very
together.

INT. DICKIE'S LIVING ROOM, MONGIBELLO. DAY.

Ripley walks into the living room, slowly approaches
Dickie's saxophone which is on its stand on the table.  He
can't get close to it, it evokes Dickie too much.

INT. DICKIE'S LIVING ROOM. DAY.

Ripley has Dickie's Hermes Baby typewriter on the desk and is
busy writing letters. He has finished a letter to the
Greenleafs, now he's at the end of one to Marge. We can read
part of it - C/O American Express, Rome 9 November 1958. Dear
Marge, this is a difficult letter for me to write... Ripley
produces the Shakespeare and Signature page and COPIES
DICKIE'S SIGNATURE at the end of the letter.

EXT. MARGE'S GARDEN, MONGIBELLO. DAY.

Ripley stands at the entrance to Marge's garden where she is
working at her book on the outside table, surrounded by
references and notes, held down by bricks. He looks at her
until she looks at him. She's startled, gasps.

		RIPLEY
	Hello Marge.

		MARGE
	Tom, you startled me!  You're back.

		RIPLEY
	How are you? Sorry. Is your book going
	well?

		MARGE
	Yes - I'm on a good streak, thanks.

		RIPLEY
	I was just looking at you -
		(looking at her tenderly)
	- so quiet.

		MARGE
	Where's Dickie?

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

		MARGE
		(looks at him)
	Ha. Did he say why?

		RIPLEY
	I don't know. I don't understand Dickie,
	Marge, so your guess is as good as mine.

		MARGE
	What does that mean?

		RIPLEY
	Well, one day I'm invited skiing, the
	next day I'm not, one day we're all one
	family, the next day he wants to be
	alone. You tell me.

		MARGE
	Is that what he said - he wanted to be
	alone?

		RIPLEY
	He was thinking of you, Marge - he asked
	me to deliver this.

He hands her a package. She pulls at it, it's perfume.

		MARGE
	Thanks. he knows I love this, although
	why it couldn't have waited...

		RIPLEY
	Errand number one - deliver Marge's
	perfume. Errand number two, pack some
	clothes and his precious saxophone.

		MARGE
		(alarmed)
	How long's he staying for?

		RIPLEY
	Search me. I guess we're abandoned.

EXT. MONGIBELLO, BEACH. EARLY MORNING.

Marge is walking along the beach and out onto the jetty,
forlorn, a bleached figure on this winter morning.

INT. OFF FROM DICKIE'S LIVING ROOM. MORNING.

As Ripley walks down the stairs, Marge is at the icebox in
the living room. She's fixing herself a drink, has the icebox
open for ice. She's ashen, and might have been weeping, walks
back into the kitchen area.

		MARGE
	There was a letter from Dickie in with my
	perfume. You realize it's more than a few
	days? He's thinking of moving to Rome.

She bangs out the ice onto the counter, cubes falling
everywhere. Ripley drops to the floor and starts to clear
them up.  She's got the letter, shows it to Ripley. He puts
fresh ice into her glass.

		MARGE (cont'd)
	The thing is, the night before he left,
	we talked about moving, together, going
	North - and I suppose I put some pressure
	on him, about getting married, I just
	might have scared him off. There's a side
	to him, when our heads are on the pillow,
	I know no-one else sees it, which is
	really tender.
		(unravelling)
	I think I should come with you to Rome
	and just confront him.

Ripley lights a cigarette.  Marge loses confidence.

		MARGE (cont'd)
	He hates being confronted.

		RIPLEY
	I think you're right.

INT. ALBERGO GOLDONI, ROME. DAY.

RIPLEY'S BATTERED CASES are carried into the tiny lobby of
this small hotel. He exchanges his passport at the desk for
his room key, then makes his way, carrying his own luggage to
the metal cage elevator. THIS SCENE INTERCUTS WITH:

INT. HOTEL GRAND. DAY.

DICKIE'S ARRAY OF LEATHER LUGGAGE is pulled along on a
baggage trolley by a liveried PORTER.

Dickie's passport slides across the marble desk. A key comes
back, collected by a hand sporting Dickie's two distinctive
rings.  As ALDO, the Front Desk Manager, inspects the
passport, he looks at the owner.  Ripley wears a terrific
suit, his hair parted in the Greenleaf style, no glasses. His
voice, when he speaks, has the same, lazy, confident drawl.

		ALDO
	Welcome back, Signor Greenleaf.

		RIPLEY
		(walking away)
	Thank you.

INT. RIPLEY'S SUITE, GRAND. DAY.

The PORTER takes the cases and opens them as Ripley walks
around the suite. It's large and splendid. Ripley breathes in
its opulence.  He immediately picks up the telephone.

		RIPLEY
	Yes, I'd like you to telephone the Hotel
	Goldoni. Yes. I want to speak to Signor
	Thomas Ripley - No Ripley, R, yes.
	Grazie.

He produces Dickie's pen and signs the blotter quickly - H R
Greenleaf.  Then he pulls out a postcard from the writing
case to reveal Dickie's Stars, hide your fires handwriting
specimen. He compares the two signatures, is pleased.

The telephone rings.

		RIPLEY (cont'd)
	Pronto? Signor Ripley is not there? I'd
	like to leave a message. Yes. Please call
	Dickie - Dickie Greenleaf - at the Grand.

INT. RIPLEY'S HOTEL ROOM, GOLDONI. DAY.

A tiny, cell of a room, single bed. Ripley on the phone.

		RIPLEY
	He's not there?  Very well. I'll leave a
	message - Got your call. Dinner tonight
	sounds fine. Ripley.
		(listens as it's read back)
	Dinner tonight, yes, is okay. Yes, thank
	you.

INT. GUCCI STORE, ROME. DAY.

Ripley has bought some more LEATHER GOODS - a briefcase and
overnight bag. He is at the counter, signing checks.

		RIPLEY
	I'd like these to have my initials -
	embossed, I don't know the word in
	Italian ...embossed?

		GUCCI ASSISTANT
	Embossed, of course, Signor Greenleaf.

There's an excited rap on the window and a shout of DICKIE!
Shocked, Ripley looks over to find MEREDITH LOGUE outside,
alone and delighted to see him.  He grins and mouths hello.

		MEREDITH
		(entering the shop)
	Dickie! Oh my God!  Ciao.

EXT. ACROSS PIAZZA NAVONA TO ARCARI'S CAFE. DAY.

Ripley and Meredith walk across the Piazza towards the cafe.

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

		RIPLEY
	What?

		MEREDITH
	At Christmas. To Cortina with Freddie
	Miles and -

		RIPLEY
		(interrupting, astonished)
	How did you know that?

		MEREDITH
	Everybody knows Freddie Miles.

		RIPLEY
		(unsettled)
	Is Freddie in Rome?

		MEREDITH
	Now? I don't think so. But I've met him,
	of course, and we've chatted and I know
	about you and Marge and Mongi and what an
	unreliable rat you are. Freddie said you
	were a rat and I thought to myself now I
	know why he travels under R.

		RIPLEY
	I've left Marge, Meredith. And Mongi. So
	the rat's here now, in Rome.

		MEREDITH
	Sorry, I wouldn't have made a joke if -

		RIPLEY
	Don't be sorry. I've never been happier.
	I feel like I've been handed a new life.

EXT. AMERICAN EXPRESS OFFICE, ROME. DAY.

Meredith and Ripley walk down the Spanish Steps and head
inside the office.

		MEREDITH
	The truth is if you've had money your
	entire life, even if you despise it,
	which we do - agreed? - you're only truly
	comfortable around other people who have
	it and despise it.

		RIPLEY
	I know.

		MEREDITH
	I've never admitted that to anyone.

INT. AMERICAN EXPRESS OFFICE, ROME. DAY.

Ripley's signing Dickie's allowance receipt. Meredith is with
him, signing her own counterfoil. He is, of course, endorsed
by her presence.  She goes to the window ahead of him.

She takes her money, turns to him.

He hands over his documents. The Clerk compares Ripley's
signature with the one on the passport and then looks up at
him. Ripley is cool as a cucumber.

		RIPLEY
	I don't want too many large bills. Nobody
	will change them.

INT. RIPLEY'S SUITE, GRAND. ANOTHER DAY.

Where A TAILOR is finishing the fitting of a cashmere jacket
for Ripley. Bolts of cloth everywhere as Meredith adjudicates
the possible materials, which the tailor holds up against
Ripley.

		MEREDITH
	Show me the other one again.
		(the Tailor obliges)
	I like them both.

		RIPLEY
	I'll take them both.

Ripley goes inside the bedroom to change. While he's inside,
Meredith shows the Tailor out.  As she returns she notices
the open sax case, peers inside.

		MEREDITH (O/S)
	I know you're a jazz fiend but do you
	absolutely hate the Opera?  I've been
	trying to give my tickets away, it's
	tomorrow, but if you were prepared to be
	dragged...

She looks up to catch him bare-chested. She's intoxicated by
him, the romance she feels to be in the air.

		RIPLEY
		(emerging)
	You could drag me.

INT. THE OPERA HOUSE, ROME.

On stage is Act Two of Eugene Onegin.  Lensky sings his aria
before the duel with Onegin.

Ripley's in a tuxedo, in a box which includes a glamorous
Meredith and her AUNT AND UNCLE.  He knows what comes next.
Lensky is shot by Onegin. Blood pours from his neck into the
snow.  Onegin, horrified at the death of his friend, goes
over, wraps Lensky in his cloak, the silk lining flashing,
kneels holding him... Ripley can barely hide his emotion...
Meredith watches her sensitive friend, entranced.

INT. OUTSIDE THE BOXES, OPERA HOUSE, ROME.

The Interval.  Ripley and Meredith exit their box with
Meredith's Aunt and Uncle (who heads for the interval
drinks).

		RIPLEY
	Thanks so much for inviting me tonight.

		JOAN
	Can you bear it?  We hear you're a friend
	of Freddie's - he has I hate Opera
	tattooed on his chest.

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

		JOAN
		(laughs)
	I'm sure we've met.

They reach the console where Uncle Ted has their drinks.

		JOAN (cont'd)
	I was sure we'd met, weren't you, Ted?
	This is Herbert Greenleaf's boy.

		RIPLEY
	Thanks, yes, I think we did.

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

INT. OPERA HOUSE, FOYER. NIGHT.

Ripley heads past the Beautiful People on his hunt for the
Men's Room, and walks straight into a young and cultured
Englishman.  They greet each other and suddenly MARGE is
beside them.

		MARGE
		(as if she's seen a ghost)
	Oh my God. Tom.

		RIPLEY
	Marge, how are you? What are you doing in
	Rome?

		MARGE
	Is he here? Are you with Dickie?

		RIPLEY
	No.
		(to Smith-Kingsley)
	Hello, I'm Tom Ripley.

		PETER
	Peter Smith-Kingsley. I've heard about
	you, of course - from Marge, and Dickie.

		MARGE
		(works out what's strange)
	No glasses.

He fishes out the glasses.

		RIPLEY
		(to Peter)
	Ditto.

		PETER
	Where are you hiding him? He's
	impossible, isn't he?

		MARGE
	Is he really not here?

		RIPLEY
	Marge, you know Dickie has I hate Opera
	tattooed on his chest.

		MARGE
	You were going to Venice.

		PETER
	Yes, what happened? I heard you were
	desperate to come. I was looking forward
	to rowing you around.

		RIPLEY
	I am.  I really am. And I've been
	travelling. I just can't seem to get that
	far north.

		PETER
	Well hurry, before we sink.
		(reaches into his jacket)
	Should I give you my telephone number in
	Venice?

		RIPLEY
	Thanks.

The INTERVAL BELL'S ringing. Peter hands over his card to
Ripley, sees Meredith.

		PETER
	Look there's Meredith thingy - who's
	that, Marge? - they're in textiles...
	Meredith -
		(embarrassed at not
		remembering)
	God, how awful, I've spent Christmas in
	her house...!

		MARGE
	I don't know her.
		(to Ripley)
	He hasn't called, he's hardly written,
	just these cryptic notes. You don't just
	dump people.

The last INTERVAL BELL. There's a mini-stampede to return.

		PETER
	Will we see you later?

		RIPLEY
	I can't later.

		PETER
	And tomorrow?

		RIPLEY
	Tomorrow's possible. Do you know
	Dinelli's? Piazza di Spagna?

		PETER
	I know the Piazza di Spagna. What time?

		RIPLEY
	Ten thirty?

		PETER
	We'll be there.

		RIPLEY
	Okay. Marge, see you tomorrow.
		(to Peter)
	It's really good to meet you.

INT. BOX, OPERA HOUSE. NIGHT.

Ripley goes straight to Meredith and grabs her.

		RIPLEY
	Let's go.

		MEREDITH
	I thought you were enjoying yourself?

		RIPLEY
	Let's take a Carozza and look at the
	moon.

		MEREDITH
	You're crazy! It's freezing out there.

He's looking past her, where a mirror reflects Marge wading
through the audience, Peter's elegant head getting
dangerously near as they approach their seats.

		RIPLEY
	C'mon, I need to talk to you. Just the
	two of us.

		MEREDITH
		(quite taken)
	Okay then, you're crazy.

EXT. CAROZZA, ROME. NIGHT.

Meredith shivers in the raw night as they cross the Tiber.
Ripley as Dickie is confessing his heart belongs to Marge.

		MEREDITH
	Don't worry. Really. Don't worry.

		RIPLEY
	You're such a pal to understand. It's as
	if Marge is here now - I look at you and
	I see her face - and I can't, whatever
	I'm feeling towards you - I just can't...

		MEREDITH
	No, I absolutely understand. Of course.

		RIPLEY
	Otherwise you'd be fighting me off.

		MEREDITH
	Beating you away.

EXT. MEREDITH'S APARTMENT, ROME.

They arrive at the courtyard outside Meredith's Apartment
Building. Ripley jumps down, collects her. She makes to go
inside, then looks at him.

		MEREDITH
	Will you meet me tomorrow?  Just to say
	goodbye in the daylight, properly? So
	it's not just this, it's too...you should
	always save pain for daylight...

		RIPLEY
	Oh Meredith, I'm sorry. Of course I'll
	meet you. Let's have coffee in the
	morning at Dinelli's.

		MEREDITH
		(fluttering)
	I don't - is that by the Spanish Steps?

		RIPLEY
	Exactly. 10.30 -
		(instantly correcting himself)
	10.15.

He gets back into the carozza. It moves off.

EXT. DINELLI'S CAFE, PIAZZA DI SPAGNA. MORNING.

Meredith sits waiting in a cafe at the bottom of the Spanish
Steps. Ripley, dressed as Ripley, is at the top of the steps,
among early tourists, watching as she drinks her coffee at an
outside table. Then Marge and Peter appear walking up the Via
Condotti, head for another table, don't see Meredith.  She
acknowledges Peter who hasn't noticed her.

		MEREDITH
	Peter? Hello, it's Meredith Logue.

		PETER
	Of course it is, Meredith, hello, I'm
	sorry, half-asleep, how are you? This is
	Marge Sherwood. Meredith Logue.

		MARGE
	Hello.

Hearing Marge's name Meredith reacts, freezes.

		PETER
	Join us, won't you? We're just waiting
	for a friend. Do you know, I wonder did
	we see you at the Opera last night?

		MEREDITH
	I won't actually, although I think this
	might - are you waiting for Dickie?

		PETER
	Well no, as it happens, although...

		MARGE
		(stunned at the mention of his
		name)
	Dickie? Do you know Dickie?

		MEREDITH
	You were at the Opera? Well, that
	explains - yes I was there. I was there
	with Dickie.

		MARGE
		(to Peter)
	I told you! I knew it!

		MEREDITH
		(moving over to them)
	Marge, I don't know you, so I have no
	right, but Dickie loves you.  He's - I
	think you'll find he's coming home to
	you.

		MARGE
		(proprietorial)
	How would you know that?

		MEREDITH
	He told me everything. I was supposed to
	meet him fifteen minutes ago, so I...I'm
	going to go now, I think. Unless he meant
	us to meet - which would be a little
	cruel, wouldn't it?

		PETER
	No, we're meeting another friend. Tom
	Ripley.

		MARGE
	Do you know Tom?

		MEREDITH
	Ripley? No. I heard about him, of course,
	but no, I didn't meet him.

The WAITER has arrived to take orders. Meredith indicates
she's leaving.

		MEREDITH (cont'd)
	Not for me. No, grazie.

Marge is on the edge. Peter lays a hand to comfort her.

		MEREDITH (cont'd)
	I hope I didn't complicate matters, but
	nothing, nothing untoward happened,
	nothing to prevent you from welcoming him
	back, from marrying him...Goodbye.
	Goodbye Peter, please don't get up.

Peter gets up. Ripley, from his vantage point at the top of
the steps, watches Meredith leave and walk off into the
crowd. He begins the slow walk down towards the square. As he
becomes visible to the cafe, he starts to hurry. He's
apologising to Marge and Peter as they see him, in his
element, lying and believing in his lie.

		RIPLEY
	Sorry, sorry. Had to renew my papers.
	Italian bureaucracy - never one stamp
	when they can make you line up for three.
	Have you been waiting long?

		PETER
	Not at all. Morning Tom.

		RIPLEY
	Hi.
		(to Marge)
	Sorry. You okay? You look as if you've
	seen a ghost...

		MARGE
	Dickie was at the Opera last night.

		RIPLEY
	I don't believe it. Wild horses wouldn't
	drag Dickie to -

		MARGE
	He was there with someone. So I suppose
	she must have dragged him - that's not
	fair.  I'm going back to Mongi. I think
	Dickie's coming home.
		(to Peter)
	I'm going to go home.

		RIPLEY
	Really? That's swell. No, I was just -
	you're way ahead of me! Great!

		PETER
	We think he's had a change of heart.
		(to Marge)
	So we should be celebrating.

		MARGE
	I hope so.

		PETER
		(to Marge)
	That was moving, wasn't it? When Meredith
	said -
		(to Ripley)
	Meredith's the American girl I saw last
	night, I know her, at the Opera, she's
	been seeing something of Dickie -

		RIPLEY
	My God.

		PETER
	But the point is Dickie - well we know
	this - Dickie loves Marge and he misses
	her and apparently he's come to his
	senses...

		RIPLEY
	It's fantastic.
		(to Peter)
	I feel guilty. Marge doesn't understand
	this, but anytime Dickie does something I
	feel guilty.

INT. APARTMENT, PALAZZA GIOIA. DAY.

Ripley is being shown an APARTMENT FOR RENT in the Palazzo
Gioia by a dry-witted older woman, SIGNORA BUFFI. Ripley
explores, relishing the decor.

		SIGNORA BUFFI
	Accendo il riscaldamento.
	(I'll turn the heating on.)

		RIPLEY
		(mimes playing sax)
	Mi piace suonare.
	(I like to play music.)

		SIGNORA BUFFI
		(shrugs)
	Io sono sorda. Quelli di sotto, una
	coppia, sono sordi. Allora, ti piace?
	(I'm deaf. The couple below are deaf. So,
	do you like it?)

INT. RIPLEY'S APARTMENT. AFTERNOON.

Ripley is in the apartment, fire burning, wearing pyjamas.
There's a small Christmas tree. He kneels on the floor with
some festive, gift-wrapped packages. He opens a package. It's
a marble head of Hadrian. A gasp from Ripley. He picks up a
glass, pours himself a drink.

INT. RIPLEY'S APARTMENT. LATE AFTERNOON.

Ripley plunges into Bach's Italian Concerto on his new and
precious toy, a STEINWAY GRAND. His doorbell rings. He stops
playing. He doesn't get visitors. He rises, a little nervous.

		RIPLEY
	Hello?

		FREDDIE (O/S)
	Dickie?

		RIPLEY
	Who is it?

		FREDDIE (O/S)
	It's Freddie. Let me in.

RIPLEY ALMOST COLLAPSES. He's faint.

		FREDDIE (O/S)
	Dickie, come on, it's me.

Ripley can't think what to hide, where to hide. He opens the
door.

		RIPLEY
	Hello, Freddie, it's Tom, Tom Ripley.

		FREDDIE
		(confused, not pleasantly)
	Oh hello, where's Dickie? How are you?

		RIPLEY
	Yes, I'm good, thank you. Dickies at
	dinner. He's at Otello's. Do you know it?

		FREDDIE
	I don't think he's at dinner at 6.30pm.
	If you said he was still at lunch I'd
	believe you. Incredible. The guy has
	disappeared off the face of the earth.

		RIPLEY
	I guess.

		FREDDIE
	The landlady - as far as I could tell,
	the landlady said he was here right now.

		RIPLEY
	He's gone to dinner! Search the place. I
	can't think why you would imagine Dickie
	would hide from you.

		FREDDIE
	Because he's been hiding from me - what
	happened at Christmas?

		RIPLEY
	What about Christmas?

		FREDDIE
	He was supposed to come skiing. I didn't
	get a cable or a call or a note or,
	frankly, a fart.

Ripley has his hands behind his back. HE'S TUGGING
FRANTICALLY AT DICKIE'S RINGS. Ripley wanders into the
kitchen, turns on the tap to sluice his fingers.

		RIPLEY (O/S)
	Of course, he's been very involved in his
	music, hasn't he? I think his theory is,
	you know, you have to go into a cocoon
	before you can become a butterfly.

		FREDDIE
	Which is horseshit.  Have you heard him
	play that thing?
		(gesturing at the sax on its
		stand)
	He can't.

		RIPLEY (O/S)
		(casually)
	How did you find him? It's such an out of
	the way apartment. Can I fix you a drink?

		FREDDIE
	No thanks.
		(explaining his detective work)
	Some kid at the American Express Office.
		(he starts to explore)
	Are you living here?

Now he starts to hammer a nasty boogie-woogie on the piano.

		RIPLEY
		(returning, flinching)
	No. No, I'm staying here for a few days,
	in Rome.  That's a new piano, so you prob -

		FREDDIE (O/S)
	Did this place come furnished? It doesn't
	look like Dickie. Horrible isn't it? - so
	bourgeois.

Now he's poking at the Hadrian bust.

		RIPLEY
	You should watch that!

		FREDDIE
	In fact the only thing which looks like
	Dickie is you.

		RIPLEY
	Hardly.

		FREDDIE
	Have you done something to your hair?

Ripley starts to smile, his eyes darting around the room.

		RIPLEY
	Freddie, do you have something to say?

		FREDDIE
	What? I think I'm saying it. Something's
	going on. He's either converted to
	Christianity - or to something else.

		RIPLEY
	I suggest you ask Dickie that yourself.
	Otello's is on delle Croce, just off the
	Corso.

		FREDDIE
	Is it on "delle Croce, just off the
	Corso"? 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.

AND HE'S GONE. Ripley shuts the door, smooths the silk runner
on the table where Freddie's hand had rucked it. He goes back
to the door, opens it and looks over the rail.

INT. LANDING AND STAIRS, RIPLEY'S BUILDING. LATE DAY.

FREDDIE IS BACK IN CONVERSATION WITH SIGNORA BUFFI. Ripley
can't make out the text but there's some discussion about
Signor Greenleaf and Signor Ripley. Ripley hurries inside as
Freddie's heavy shoes start to clump up the stairs again.

INT. RIPLEY'S APARTMENT, ROME. LATE DAY.

Freddie knocks on the door which pushes open. As he marches
in, he launches into his interrogation.

		FREDDIE
	Ripley? There's someth -

- AND WALKS STRAIGHT INTO THE HEAD OF HADRIAN WHICH RIPLEY
SWINGS AT HIM, HOLDING ON AWKWARDLY WITH BOTH HANDS TO THE
HEAVY MARBLE SCULPTURE.

Freddie falls like an ox, first to his knees, groaning, then
to the floor as Ripley brings the head down again, beating
him downwards. As Freddie slumps away, Ripley loses his
balance and the head sends Freddie a glancing blow before
slipping from Ripley's grasp and smashing on to the floor.
THE NOSE IS CHIPPED OFF.

EXT. PALAZZO GIOIA. NIGHT.

It's deserted. Ripley hauls Freddie out of the shadows
towards the car. A couple walk across the square. Ripley
talks to Freddie, berating him for his drunken stupor. He
pushes him over the door and into the passenger seat.

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

EXT. VIA APPIA ANTICA. NIGHT.

The Fiat noses along THE APPIAN WAY. Black fragments of tombs
punctuate either side of the poorly lit road. Inside the car,
Ripley looks to left and right for a place to dump the body.
He slows near a clump of trees.

INT. RIPLEY'S APARTMENT, ROME. EVENING.

Someone is KNOCKING urgently at the door. Ripley opens it,
finds himself face to face with Signora Buffi and TWO
POLICEMEN. One of them offers his hand.

		ROVERINI
	Dickie Greenleaf?

		RIPLEY
	Yes?

		ROVERINI
	Inspector Roverini. Can we come in?

INT. RIPLEY'S APARTMENT. EVENING.

Ripley sits with his head in his hands at the table. Roverini
and his sergeant, BAGGIO, watch patiently.

		ROVERINI
	It's a terrible shock, eh? What time did
	Signor Miles leave yesterday?

		RIPLEY
	I can't be absolutely sure - 8? 9? We'd
	both taken on far too many drinks - but
	it was dark, it was certainly dark when I
	walked him down to his car.

		ROVERINI
	So Signor Miles drove away and you did
	what?

		RIPLEY
	I went to bed. Freddie's a big man, but
	I'm in trouble after a couple of drinks.
	I've suffered all day. Who found him?

Roverini has walked over to the bust of Hadrian.

		ROVERINI
	Senta.  We have to ask you to stay in
	Rome.

		RIPLEY
	Yes, if it's going to help, certainly.

		ROVERINI
	So, the Doctor, he has to make the -
		(looks at Baggio)
	- come se dice?

		RIPLEY
	Postmortem?

		ROVERINI
	Yes, exactly, but his first, his first
	conclusion was that Signor Miles was
	killed not later than seven o'clock
	yesterday evening.

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

		ROVERINI
	No.

EXT. NARROW STREET, THE GHETTO, ROME. MORNING.

Ripley comes through a dark tunnel in the Ghetto on his
scooter. He drives past a furniture store, DRESSING TABLES
AND MIRRORS spilling out onto the street. He glances
sideways, sees his reflection fractured into several images
and, for an instant, it seems AS IF DICKIE'S THERE
WATCHING HIM. Ripley screams and swerves, crashing into the
pavement, the scooter falling onto him and pulling him along
the cobbled passage. The man he thought to be Dickie, an
Italian, runs up concerned.

EXT. AMERICAN EXPRESS, PIAZZA DI SPAGNA. DAY.

Ripley emerges from the American Express Office. Across the
street at the cafe, as once before, sits Marge. Ripley slips
Dickie's bag into his knapsack as he approaches his scooter.
Marge spots him and strides across the piazza. She is in no
mood for pleasantries.

		MARGE
	Did he kill Freddie?

		RIPLEY
	Marge, when did you get here?

		MARGE
	Tell me the truth. Did he kill Freddie?

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

		MARGE
	I tried again, waiting here, watching for
	him. Instead it's you. Whenever I look
	for Dickie I find you.

		(focusing on Ripley's cuts and
		bruises)
	What happened to your face?

		RIPLEY
	Dickie did it.

		MARGE
		(suddenly tense)
	Dickie?

		RIPLEY
	My face! There was an argument. I said
	some things I shouldn't have.  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.
		(he pulls the scooter off the
		stand)
	Are you getting on?

		MARGE
	What?

		RIPLEY
	Get on. I'll take you to him.

EXT. SQUARE OF THE PALAZZO GIOIA. DAY.

Ripley and Marge come round the corner on the scooter. The
entrance to the Palazzo is blocked by a couple of police cars.
Inspector Roverini emerges from one of them. Ripley,
startled, drives straight past the entrance.

EXT. ROME STREET, BY THE RIVER. DAY.

Ripley pulls up several hundred yards later, in a different
piazza full of book stalls.  Marge is confused.

		MARGE
	Where does Dickie live?

		RIPLEY
	We passed it a few blocks back, where the
	police were. The Palazzo Gioia. They
	don't even know I'm in Rome and I'm not
	going to incriminate Dickie -

		MARGE
	Perhaps I shouldn't go either.

		RIPLEY
		(thinking hard, distracted)
	No, well go if you want to, but don't
	talk to the Police about my face - they
	find out he hit me - he's got a temper - he
	could've hit Freddie.
		(sincerely)
	Good luck, Marge. I'll catch up with you
	later.

And he drives off. At the first opportunity HE DOUBLES BACK
and roars towards the Palazzo.

EXT. SQUARE OF THE PALAZZO GIOIA. AFTERNOON.

Ripley drives towards the entrance.  As Ripley gets off and
pushes his scooter through the doorway SOME JOURNALISTS,
LOITERING INSIDE A BARBER'S SHOP come running out and swarm
around him with questions about Freddie. One of them gets off
a photograph.  It's chaos, a Police Officer shouts him away
as Ripley puts up a protective hand and runs inside.

INT. ENTRANCE AND STAIRS, PALAZZO GIOIA. CONTINUOUS.

As Ripley hurries inside he encounters officers conducting
more thorough forensic investigations in the stairwell. On a
landing is Roverini. Ripley hurries towards him.

		RIPLEY
	Can we go up? Do you mind?

		ROVERINI
	Of course. What happened to your face?

		RIPLEY
	My scooter. I fell off. Getting chased by
	photographers.

He hurries up the stairs, Roverini in tow.

		RIPLEY (cont'd)
		(agitated)
	The telephone, the press, I've been, I'm
	feeling hounded - do you think you could
	not give out my address?

		ROVERINI
	Never. We've had many requests and, of
	course, we say no - even to your fianc‚e.

		RIPLEY
	I really don't want to see anybody.

		ROVERINI
	Even your fianc‚e...?

		RIPLEY
	Even her.

		ROVERINI
	What about Thomas Ripley?

		RIPLEY
	What about Ripley?

Ripley's way ahead and has reached the door of his apartment.
He waits nervously for Roverini. He unlocks the door and can
barely wait for Roverini to catch up.

INT. RIPLEY'S APARTMENT. AFTERNOON.

Roverini follows Ripley inside, Baggio hurries in behind him.

		ROVERINI
	You and Signor Ripley went to San Remo,
	is that right?

Ripley is appalled. He smiles.

		RIPLEY
	Yes, sure, we did go to San Remo. That
	was months ago.

		ROVERINI
	November, I thought.

		RIPLEY
	Was it? Did you speak to Tom?

		ROVERINI
	November 7th is my information.

		RIPLEY
	I don't remember the exact date.

		ROVERINI
	And when did you last see Signor Ripley?

		RIPLEY
	A few days ago.

		ROVERINI
	Does he stay with you here?

		RIPLEY
	No!

		ROVERINI
	No.  Here is a pattern. Two days ago
	Freddie Miles is dead - he leaves your
	apartment and is 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 oh! Dickie
	Greenleaf is staying in San Remo and then
	our boatman remembers two Americans
	taking a boat.

		RIPLEY
	It's not a pattern, it's a coincidence.
	There must be fifty hotels in San Remo,
	there must have been a hundred people
	renting a boat on that day.

		ROVERINI
	31 people.

		RIPLEY
	31 people.

Baggio appears. Speaks to Roverini. Ripley is getting cranky.

		ROVERINI
	That is Miss Sherwood now. Marge
	Sherwood.

		RIPLEY
		(appalled, defeated)
	Let her in, what's the difference?  Let
	her in.
		(Baggio is on his way to the
		door.)
	No, actually, no, I'd like it very much
	if you would ask her to come back later.

Roverini nods, mutters to Baggio, who heads out.

		RIPLEY (cont'd)
	Thank you.

		ROVERINI
		(watching him)
	May I ask...why would you speak to your
	friend and not your fianc‚e?

		RIPLEY
	I think I just said. Ripley was handling
	some business for me, nor does Mr Ripley
	want to marry me.  Nor did he ask me
	every day if I would marry him. And when.

		ROVERINI
	Do you have a photograph of Signor
	Ripley?

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

		ROVERINI
	Now I think I have upset you. My English
	perhaps is coarse.

		RIPLEY
	It is a little coarse, yes.

		ROVERINI
	Sorry.  No-one has seen Signor Ripley
	since San -

		RIPLEY
	I have!

		ROVERINI
	You have, yes.

		RIPLEY
	No, I have and so has Miss Sherwood, ask
	her! and if I could remember which hotel
	he was staying at - the Goldoni! - Tom
	was staying at the Goldoni.

		ROVERINI
	Good. The Goldoni. Yes - you're right. A
	coincidence.
		(he gets up to leave)
	I look forward to our next meeting when I
	will be more careful with my English and
	persuade you to play me your saxophone.
	Alto.

		RIPLEY
	Absolutely.

		ROVERINI
		(suddenly turning)
	I have a witness who thinks they saw two
	men getting into Mr Miles' car. She
	wants to identify you in a - confronto -
	line-up.
		(ominously)
	Tomorrow then?

		RIPLEY
		(thrown, scrabbling)
	Tomorrow.

Ripley lets them out, heaves a heavy sigh, then peeps through
the door, looks down to see Roverini speaking to Marge on the
stairs.

		ROVERINI (O/S)
	Buongiorno, Miss Sherwood.  He's in but I
	really don't think he wants to see
	anyone.

Ripley leans against the door, the noose tightening, then
suddenly a voice shocks him upright.

		MARGE
	Dick? Dickie? I know you can hear me.
	What am I doing, chasing you around...?
	I was going to say 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,
	whatever 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, I don't know why, I just don't know
	why...

Ripley listens, there's a silence, then Marge's footsteps as
they ring out on the stone stairs. The tapping sound resolves
into the tap-tap of a manual typewriter.

INT. RIPLEY'S APARTMENT, PALAZZO GIOIA. NIGHT.

Ripley's at the typewriter, he begins to type.

		RIPLEY (O/S)
	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...

INT. RIPLEY'S APARTMENT, PALAZZO GIOIA. NIGHT.

CHAOS.  Ripley is working quickly, selecting clothes,
dividing them into TWO PILES - one for Dickie's trunk, one
for his own battered suitcase. He puts the license plates
from Freddie's car in Dickie's luggage. He has placed one
shirt on the Ripley pile then checks again, and - on seeing
Dickie's initials, places it with the bigger pile, then picks
it up again and holds it briefly against his cheek.

He takes Dickie's rings, opens up a LITTLE BOX of buttons and
needles and cufflinks and sadly tosses them in. Dickie's
leather writing case goes on the big pile, too, as do cuff
links, ties, the Mont Blanc, Dickie's passport, which he
opens to scratch at the photograph, obliterating the face.

		RIPLEY (O/S)
	...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 always
	wanted. I realise 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 can't go on.
	I've made a mess of being Dickie
	Greenleaf haven't I?

He's finished the letter, signs it, puts it in an envelope
marked Tom Ripley and places the letter on top of the piano
next to Dickie's passport. His head is reflected in the
distorting curve of the lid. As he puts on his glasses
there's a moment when there are two heads slowly separating,
as Ripley leaves behind his brief life as Dickie Greenleaf.

INT. BASEMENT, PALAZZO GIOIA. NIGHT.

Ripley carries Dickie's luggage down into THE COMMUNAL
BASEMENT of the Gioia, a wretched place full of shadows and
gloom and the overflow from thirty apartments. A red plush
couch sits on top of a mound of furniture.  He finds some
dustsheets and shoves the cases under them. Then Dickie's
saxophone.

Outside the small window, Ripley sees uniformed feet and the
revolving blue light of a Police Car. He shrinks back, turns
off the light and disappears into the dark, illuminated
fitfully by the strobe of cold blue.

EXT. BY THE PALAZZO GIOIA, ROME. NIGHT.

Ripley, familiar battered luggage in tow, appears at the
entrance of the building next to his own, glances at the
police car parked opposite the big doors, then hurries off
into the darkness.

EXT. BY THE PALAZZO GIOIA. NIGHT.

Ripley's briefly silhouetted as he scuttles down an alley,
hurrying towards a gate, and disappears behind it.

EXT. PIAZZALE ROMA, VENICE. DAWN.

Ripley sits next to his battered luggage at the prow of a
MOTOR TAXI as it surges towards Venice at dawn. Peter Smith-
Kingsley waits on the quay. Ripley waves. Peter waves back.

		PETER
		(indicating the taxi stop)
	I'll see you over there!

EXT. PIAZZA SAN MARCO, VENICE. EARLY MORNING.

Ripley and Peter walk through the square, the pigeons
scattering. Ripley breathes in the atmosphere, the beautiful
grey.

		RIPLEY
	Peter, I'm really sorry to put you
	through this. I just couldn't face going
	to the police by myself when my Italian's
	so rotten.

		PETER
	Don't be daft. It's fine. I'm delighted
	you finally made it to Venice. I'm
	delighted, contrary to rumour, you're
	still in one piece?

		RIPLEY
	What rumour?

		PETER
	That Dickie murdered you and is
	travelling under your passport. I know,
	ridiculous.

INT. POLICE STATION, VENICE. LATE DAY.

Later.  Ripley sits in the middle of a bustling Police Station,
where thefts, tourists, thieves and complaints are being
processed.  The Station is in an old brewery or armory. It's a
horrible, monochrome, oppressive place. Peter is in
conversation at a desk, turns and walks over to where Ripley
waits.

		PETER
	Welcome to Venice.  This place reeks,
	doesn't it? Can you smell it?  Ugh.
	Sorry. Not the best way to spend your
	first day.

		RIPLEY
	It's okay.

		PETER
	Anyway I've got to the bottom of the
	delay. Finally.  We're waiting for
	someone from Rome.

		RIPLEY
		(completely thrown)
	What do you mean?  They're sending
	someone from Rome?

		PETER
	That's good, isn't it?

		RIPLEY
		(as if suffocating)
	No, but I thought that didn't happen in
	Italy, that each region was completely
	separate! I was sure that was the -

		PETER
	You've seen the papers, you know what a
	big deal it's been here. American tourist
	murdered -

		RIPLEY
	It's ridiculous but now you've mentioned
	the stench I can hardly breathe.

A door opens. COLONEL VERRECCHIA, fresh from Rome, and a
sullen wedge of a man, comes in, scowling at the couple.
Ripley dare not look up in case it's Roverini.  A POLICEMAN
introduces him.

		POLICEMAN
	Colonelo Verrecchia della Polizia di
	Roma.

		VERRECCHIA
		(to Peter, in Italian)
	Qui e Ripley?  Who is Ripley?

		PETER
		(in Italian)
	Lui. Him.

Verrecchia strides past them and into a smaller, interview
room at the back of the station.  His manner is ominous.

INT. POLICE STATION, INTERVIEW ROOM, VENICE. LATE DAY.

This room is not at all friendly. There is evidence of a
locked area for cells at one wall.  A small, sour window
gives onto a canal.  The main station is glimpsed through
some internal windows. Peter and Ripley come through.

Verrecchia sits down.  Verrecchia talks in staccato Italian,
during which Peter translates.

		VERRECCHIA
	Ho assunto io la guida delle indagini in
	seguito alla negativa valutazione delle
	disdicevoli circostanze verificatesi con
	il mio predecessore Roverini che come e
	noto non e riuscito a impedire il
	verificarsi della scomparsa del signor
	Greenleaf, il quale era l'unica persona
	al momento passibile di incriminazione
	del reato di omicidio del signor Miles.

		PETER
		(translating)
	He's taken over the case because...
	they're annoyed the previous chap let
	Dickie...disappear when he was the only,
	he was the only suspect in Freddie's
	murder.

		VERRECCHIA
	Quando e stata l'ultima volta che il
	signor Ripley ha visto il signor
	Greenleaf?
	(When was the last time Ripley saw
	Greenleaf?)

Ripley forgets he's not supposed to have much Italian and
answers.

		RIPLEY
	In Rome, about three weeks ago.
		(shrugs)
	I knew that one.

		PETER
		(giving Ripley a look)
	A Roma, circa tre settimane fa.

		VERRECCHIA
	Dove e stato il signor Ripley da allora?

		PETER
		(translating)
	Where have you been since then?

		RIPLEY
	I've been backpacking.

		PETER
	I don't know how to translate that.
		(he tries)
	E difficile....il signor Ripley
	....dormiva all'aperto, con un...

		VERRECCHIA
	All'aperto? Col freddo che ha fatto?

		PETER
	He thinks it's very cold to be sleeping
	outside.

		VERRECCHIA
	Il signor Ripley ha sviluppate tendenze
	omosessuali?

		PETER
	Are you a homosexual?
		(then as himself)
	Interesting non-sequitur.

		RIPLEY
	No.

		PETER
		(translates for him)
	No.
		(as Peter, drily)
	By the way, officially there are no
	Italian homosexuals. Makes Leonardo,
	Michelangelo very inconvenient.

		RIPLEY
	Tell him I have a fianc‚e, Dickie has a
	fianc‚e and Freddie Miles probably had a
	string of them.

		PETER
		(translating)
	Il signor Ripley ha una fidanzata, il
	signor Dickie ha una fidanzata e
	probabilmente il signor Freddie Miles ha
	molte fidanzate.

		VERRECCHIA
		(laughs)
	Mamma mia, quante fidanzate!

They all laugh.

		RIPLEY
	What did he say?

		PETER
	He says so many fianc‚es.

		VERRECCHIA
		(suddenly very tough)
	Lei ha ucciso prima Freddie Miles e dopo
	Dickie Greenleaf! Vero?

As Peter translates Verrecchia watches intently.

		PETER
	He wants to know if you killed Freddie
	Miles and then killed Dickie Greenleaf?

		RIPLEY
		(outraged)
	No I did not. I did not kill Freddie
	Miles and then kill Dickie Greenleaf.  Is
	he accusing me?
		(Peter clearly doesn't ask)
	Ask him if he's accusing me!

		PETER
	He's already angry, I don't think -

		RIPLEY
		(interrupting, heated)
	Just because he doesn't like Americans!

		VERRECCHIA
	Non e questo il luogo per le vostre
	conversazioni private!  (This is not the
	place for your private conversations)

		PETER
		(appeasing him)
	A ragione.  A ragione.  (You're right.
	You're right.)

		VERRECCHIA
	Hmm. C'e questa...  (There's this...)

Verrecchia hands over a letter. It's opened. Ripley's name on
the outside. Ripley stares at it.

		VERRECCHIA
		(cont'd)
	Questa lettera e stata trovata
	nell'abitazione del signor Richard
	Greenleaf a Roma.

		PETER
	They found this in Dickie's place in
	Rome.

		RIPLEY
	You opened this?

		VERRECCHIA
	Of course!

He stands and takes the letter out.  Begins to read. He has
the look of a man whose privacy has been violated.

		RIPLEY
		(to Peter)
	It's a suicide note.
		(to Verrecchia)
	You ask me all these questions and you've
	already read this suicide note?

INT. PETER SMITH-KINGSLEY'S APARTMENT. DAY.

There's music everywhere - and stands - and posters of
performances and PHOTOGRAPHS OF PETER CONDUCTING. Peter is an
opera repetiteur. Ripley is sitting at Peter's piano, playing
from the score of Vivaldi's Stabat Mater. Peter's made supper.
He's setting the table.

		PETER
	Can you imagine, if Dickie did kill
	Freddie, what must that be like? To wake
	up every morning, how can you? Just wake
	up and be a person, drink a coffee...?

		RIPLEY
	Whatever you do, however terrible,
	however hurtful - it all makes sense,
	doesn't it? inside your head. You never
	meet anybody who thinks they're a bad
	person or that they're cruel.

		PETER
	But you're still tormented, you must be,
	you've killed somebody...

		RIPLEY
	Don't you put the past in a room, in the
	cellar, and lock the door and just never
	go in there? Because that's what I do.

		PETER
	Probably. In my case it's probably a
	whole building.

		RIPLEY
	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 and there are demons and if
	anybody saw how ugly it was...

Peter's come over, stands behind him over the piano.

		PETER
	That's the music talking. Harder to be
	bleak if you're playing Knees up Mother
	Brown.

He vamps this vaudeville song over Ripley's shoulder.

		RIPLEY
	I keep wanting to do that - fling open
	the door - let the light in, clean
	everything out. If I could get a huge
	eraser and rub everything out...starting
	with myself...the thing is, Peter, if...

		PETER
		(as Ripley falls silent)
	No key, huh?

INT. SANTA MARIA DELLA PIETA, BRIDGE OF SIGHS. DAY.

A YOUNG BOY SINGS the soprano part of Vivaldi's STABAT MATER.
A piercingly pure sound in Vivaldi's own church.  The
orchestra - rehearsing - is conducted by Peter from the
organ.

Ripley slips in at the back of the church. He stands and
listens. Peter sees him, smiles.  Ripley smiles back.

EXT. VENICE, S.LUCIA RAILWAY STATION. DAY.

MARGE appears on the steps, carrying an overnight bag. Ripley
and Peter have come to meet her.

		MARGE
		(kissing him warmly)
	Hello Peter, so good to see you.

		RIPLEY
	Hello Marge!

		MARGE
		(coolly)
	Tom.

They walk towards the Vaporetto.

		MARGE (cont'd)
	So you found Peter...

		PETER
	I think we sort of found each other.

Marge smiles enigmatically. Ripley registers.

		PETER (cont'd)
	Where's Dickie's father?

		MARGE
	He's not coming till the morning.
	Evidently his stomach - I don't think the
	food here is agreeing with him.

		RIPLEY
	I was looking forward to seeing him.

		MARGE
	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 employing him.

		RIPLEY
	That's a terrific idea.

		MARGE
	He's American. He's already discovered
	Dickie cashed checks for $1000 the day
	before he disappeared.

They step onto the Vaporetto.

		MARGE (cont'd)
	Is that what you do before you jump in
	the Tiber?  I don't think so.

EXT. RIPLEY'S HOUSE, VENICE. DAY.

The boat arrives at the entrance to the house. Peter opens
the door as Ripley collects Marge's bags.

		MARGE
		(to Peter)
	Is this you?

		PETER
	No, it's Tom's. Splendid, eh?

		MARGE
	Golly. Who's paying for this?

		RIPLEY
	Peter found it for me. I can afford it
	because it's damp and, and falling down.

INT. RIPLEY'S HOUSE, VENICE. DAY.

Marge, entering the living room, is astonished at its
grandeur. She walks around as Ripley heads for the bar.

		MARGE
	This is spectacular.

		PETER
	That's why Tom wanted you to stay.  It's
	better than squeezing into my room, and I
	know how you hate hotels.

		MARGE
	A hotel would've been fine.
		(to Ripley)
	We'll have to tell Mr Greenleaf how far
	his dollar has stretched.

Ripley is shaking a martini. Marge laughs, helpless, somehow
raging. Peter turns

		PETER
	What's funny?

		MARGE
	No, nothing. I'm just thinking about when
	Tom arrived in Mongi.
		(to Ripley)
	And now look at you.

		RIPLEY
	Look at me what?

		MARGE
	To the manner born.

EXT. PIAZZA SAN MARCO, VENICE. DAY.

St Mark's Square is buzzing with life - tourists, balloon
sellers - a man playing saxophone. HERBERT GREENLEAF sits out
in the colonade on one of the many tables at Florian's Cafe,
cradling a glass of hot water. He gets up as Marge and Ripley
arrive.

		RIPLEY
	Mr Greenleaf.

		HERBERT GREENLEAF
	Tom. How are you?  You look well.

		RIPLEY
	I'm well, thank you.

		HERBERT GREENLEAF
	Far cry from New York.

		RIPLEY
	Yes it is.

		HERBERT GREENLEAF
	Marge, good morning.  Unusual weather.

		MARGE
	Very.

		RIPLEY
	And you, sir?  Any better?

		HERBERT GREENLEAF
	Pretty good.  Sticking with hot water.

		MARGE
	Where's Mr MacCarron?

		HERBERT GREENLEAF
	San Remo. The police are amateurs. Well,
	my boy, it's come to a pretty pass,
	hasn't it?

		RIPLEY
	Yes.  What's the detective hoping to
	find in San Remo?

		HERBERT GREENLEAF
	He's being thorough, that's all. I'm
	learning about my son, Tom, now he's
	missing. I'm learning a great deal about
	him. I hope you can fill in some more
	blanks for me. Marge has been good enough
	to do that, about Mongibello.

		RIPLEY
	I'll try my best, sir. Obviously I'll do
	anything to help Dickie.

Marge looks at him in contempt.

		HERBERT GREENLEAF
	This theory, the letter he left for you,
	the Police think that's a clear
	indication he was planning on doing
	something...to himself.

		MARGE
	I just don't believe that!

		HERBERT GREENLEAF
	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 -

		MARGE
	Such as?

		HERBERT GREENLEAF
	What a waste of lives and opportunities
	and -

A saxophonist is blaring away in the piazza. Greenleaf
suddenly explodes.

		HERBERT GREENLEAF
		(cont'd)
	- I'd pay that fellow a hundred dollars
	right now to shut up!

INT. RIPLEY'S HOUSE. AFTERNOON.

Herbert Greenleaf sits on a chair, Ripley pours him some tea.

		HERBERT GREENLEAF
		(reading, plunging into gloom)
	No, Marge doesn't know the half of it.

		RIPLEY
	I think it might hurt her to know.

		HERBERT GREENLEAF
	And his passport photo? Did you hear? To
	scratch out your own face like that - can
	you imagine - the frame of mind you'd
	have to be in?
		(reading)
	I've thought about going to the police
	but I can't face it. I can't face
	anything anymore.

		RIPLEY
	I feel guilty. I feel like I pushed him
	away. I spoke and he heard you.

		HERBERT GREENLEAF
		(such a disappointed father)
	Well, 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 oars. Somebody's got to - what's the
	word?
		(Ripley shakes his head)
	The moment someone confronts him he
	lashes out.  He lashes out. You know,
	people always say you can't choose your
	parents, but you can't choose your
	children.

INT. RIPLEY'S HOUSE, VENICE. DUSK.

Ripley wakes up from an awful, chilling nightmare, his head
full of ghosts. He's cramped up in an armchair, his arms in
sine foetal protection. HIS DOOR KNOCKER IS BEING REPEATEDLY
SHAKEN. He surfaces thickly, stumbles to the door. It's Peter
and Marge.

		RIPLEY
	I'm sorry. I was asleep. I must have
	fallen asleep.

		PETER
	You look ghastly, Tom. Are you okay?

		MARGE
	Did Dickie's Dad go?

		RIPLEY
	He's having an early night.

		MARGE
	Poor man.
		(she heads to her room)
	We were knocking on that door for ever.
		(she fiddles inside the sleeve
		of her dress)
	I think I've broken my strap.

		PETER
	Not guilty.

		RIPLEY
	I'll fix some drinks.

		MARGE
	You walk in Venice!

She takes off her shoe, examining her feet for wear and tear,
then disappears into the bedroom. Peter walks over to Ripley,
a little concerned.

		PETER
	Are you okay?

		RIPLEY
	I'm fine.

		PETER
		(a hand on his shoulder)
	Do you want me to stick around?

		RIPLEY
	It's okay.

		PETER
	Or I could come back.

Ripley looks at him. That's never happened. He digs in his
pocket, finds his key, gives it to Peter. Peter smiles.

		PETER (cont'd)
	Your key.

INT. RIPLEY'S BATHROOM, VENICE. NIGHT.

Ripley's in the bath. Marge knocks on his door.

		MARGE (O/S)
	Tom?

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

		MARGE (O/S)
	Tom, I need to talk to you. It's urgent.

Ripley, irritated, opens the door, his towel wrapped around
his waist. Marge is white. She's wearing a robe. She's
slightly breathless.

		MARGE
	I found Dickie's rings.

		RIPLEY
	What?

		MARGE
	You've got Dickie's rings.

		RIPLEY
	I can explain.

He can't. His eyes dart. Marge holds up the evidence.

		MARGE
	Dickie promised me he would never take
	off this ring.

		RIPLEY
	Let me put on some clothes and then we
	can talk about this.

		MARGE
	I have to tell Mr Greenleaf. I have to
	tell Mr Greenleaf. I have to tell Mr
	Greenleaf.

		RIPLEY
	Marge, calm down, you're being
	hysterical.

		MARGE
	He promised me. I swear I'll never take
	off this ring until the day -

		RIPLEY
	Shut up! Shut up!

His towel slips off from his waist.

		RIPLEY (cont'd)
	I'm wet, Marge, I've lost my towel, I'd
	really like to put my clothes on. So go
	and pour us both a drink, will you?

She goes off obediently, a zombie. He shuts the door.
Immediately he starts looking for something, anything, to
kill Marge with. He's got a shoe but it feels too light. He
opens cabinets, drawers - nail scissors, nothing - then
picks up his straight razor and considers it in the mirror.

INT. RIPLEY'S SITTING ROOM, VENICE. NIGHT.

Marge is leaving, coat on, as Ripley comes out of the
bathroom.

		RIPLEY
	Marge?  Where are you going?

		MARGE
		(like a creature caught in
		headlights)
	I was looking for a needle and thread. I
	wasn't snooping. I was looking for a
	needle and thread to mend my bra.

		RIPLEY
	The scent you're wearing. I bought it for
	you, not Dickie. The thing about Dickie.
	So many things. The day he was late back
	from Rome - I tried to tell you this - he
	was with another girl. I'm not talking
	about Meredith, another girl 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 do. He has so many
	realities, Dickie, and he believes them
	all. He lies. He lies, that's his... half
	the time he doesn't even realize.

A SMALL RED STAIN is appearing on the pocket of his robe. As
he speaks the stain spreads. He looks at it absently.

		RIPLEY (cont'd)
	Today, for the first time, I've even
	wondered whether he might have killed
	Freddie. He would get so crazy if anybody
	contradicted him - well, you know that.
	Marge. I loved you - you might as well
	know - I loved you, and because he knew I
	loved you, he let you think I loved him.
	Didn't you see, couldn't you see? I don't
	know, maybe it's grotesque to say this
	now, so just write it on a piece of paper
	or something, and keep it in your purse
	for a rainy day. Tom loves me.

		MARGE
		(as if she'd heard nothing)
	Why do you have Dickie's rings?

His hand goes to his pocket. HE'S GOING TO HAVE TO DO IT.

		RIPLEY
	I told you. He gave them to me.

		MARGE
	Why? When?

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

		MARGE
	I don't believe you.

		RIPLEY
	It's all true.

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

Marge is shivering. Ripley, ominous, advances, she retreats.

		RIPLEY
	You're shivering, Marge. Can I hold you?
	Would you let me hold you?

Marge panics, backed up against the door. She screams and
turns straight into the arms of a startled PETER who's come
back to visit Ripley, and is unlocking the door.

		MARGE
		(sobbing uncontrollably)
	Oh Peter! Get me out of here.

Ripley storms off. His hand comes out of his pocket COVERED
IN BLOOD from the razor. Peter notices, appalled.

		PETER
	Tom, are you okay?

		RIPLEY
	You try. You try talking to her.

		PETER
		(calls after him)
	Tom. Tom! Tell me, what's going on?

		RIPLEY
		(not turning around)
	I give up.

INT. RIPLEY HOUSE, LIVING ROOM. NIGHT.

Peter has just put a band-aid over Ripley's cut hand.

		PETER
	You can't be angry with her.  She's upset
	and needs someone to blame. So she blames
	you.  I'll go home and talk to her.  As
	for you - either get a safety razor or
	grow a beard.

INT. LOBBY, EUROPA REGINA HOTEL, VENICE. MORNING.

Ripley hurries through the gleaming marble entrance.

INT. HERBERT GREENLEAF'S SUITE, EUROPA REGINA. DAY.

Ripley knocks on the door. It's opened by a face he doesn't
recognize. A middle-aged heavy set man. It's MacCARRON, the
private investigator.

		RIPLEY
	Is Mr Greenleaf here?

		MACCARRON
	Mr Ripley? I'm Alvin MacCarron.

		MARGE (O/S)
	I don't know, I don't know, I just know
	it.

		HERBERT GREENLEAF
		(O/S)
	Marge, there's female intuition, and
	then there are facts -

Greenleaf sits with a scrubbed Marge, her hair pulled back,
as if newly-widowed. THE RINGS SIT GLINTING ON THE COFFEE
TABLE.

		HERBERT GREENLEAF
	Tom.

		RIPLEY
	Hello, sir.
		(smiles thinly at Marge)
	Marge, you should have waited, didn't
	Peter tell you I'd come by and pick you
	up?

		HERBERT GREENLEAF
	Marge has been telling us about the
	rings.

		RIPLEY
	You know I feel ridiculous I didn't
	mention them yesterday - I clean forgot -
	ridiculous.

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

Ripley worries about what that conclusion is as Mr Greenleaf
heads into his bedroom.

		HERBERT GREENLEAF
		(cont'd)
	I'm going to take Marge for a little
	walk, Tom.  Mr MacCarron wants to talk
	with you.

		RIPLEY
		(feeling caged in)
	We could go down to the bar - no need for
	you to -

		HERBERT GREENLEAF
	No, he should talk to you alone.

He helps Marge to her feet and leads her out. RIPLEY IS
PARALYSED. He waits for the door to shut. Aimlessly he walks
out onto the terrace, with its staggering, beautiful and
indifferent view.

EXT. EUROPA REGINA, THE GREENLEAF TERRACE. DAY.

Ripley stands, steels himself for MacCarron's charges.

		RIPLEY
	I could probably see my bedroom from
	here. I can see my house. When you see
	where you live from a distance it's like
	a dream, isn't it?

		MACCARRON
		(coming out)
	I don't care for B.S. I don't care to
	hear it. I don't care to speak it.

		RIPLEY
	Okay.

		MACCARRON
	Why do you think Dickie's father sent him
	to Europe in the first place? Did you
	know at Princeton Dickie Greenleaf half-
	killed a boy?

Ripley turns, shocked.

		MACCARRON
		(cont'd)
	At a party. Over some girl. He kicked the
	kid several times in the head. Put him in
	the hospital. The boy had a wire fixed in
	his jaw. The Rome Police didn't think to
	ask Mr Greenleaf.

MacCarron gets up.

		MACCARRON
		(cont'd)
	Nor did they think to check whether a
	Thomas Ripley had ever been a student at
	Princeton University. I turned up a Tom
	Ripley who'd been a piano tuner in the
	music department.

Ripley's head drops.

		MACCARRON
		(cont'd)
	See - in America we're 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 was
	pregnant, find out if Dickie had an
	embarrassment there.

Ripley doesn't know where this barrage is going.

		MACCARRON
		(cont'd)
	Mr Greenleaf appreciates your loyalty.
	He really does. Marge, she's got a
	hundred theories, but there are a few
	things she doesn't know. We hope she
	never knows.

		RIPLEY
	I hope she never knows.

		MACCARRON
	Three different people saw Dickie get
	into Freddie Miles' car. A man who won't
	identify himself because he was jumping
	someone 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.

He walks out of the room, returns carrying THE LICENSE PLATES
from Freddie's car.

		MACCARRON
		(cont'd)
	I found these in the basement of Dickie's
	apartment. They belonged to Freddie's
	car. Mr Greenleaf has asked me to lose
	them in the canal this evening.

Ripley can't believe what he's hearing. It's like a dream.

		MACCARRON
		(cont'd)
	Mr Greenleaf also feels there was a
	silent promise in Dickie's letter to you
	which he intends to honor. He intends to
	transfer a good part of Dickie's income
	from his trust into your name. He doesn't
	intend to give the Italian police any
	information about Dickie's past. He's
	rather hoping you'll feel the same.

There is a silence in which this strange compact is agreed.

EXT. EUROPA REGINA MOORING. DAY.

Ripley stands with Marge, Mr Greenleaf and MacCarron at the
water's edge - MOTOR LAUNCH growling. They shake hands, and
then MacCarron and Mr Greenleaf get into the launch. Herbert
Greenleaf carries the saxophone case.

		RIPLEY
		(to Marge)
	I feel I never should have said those
	things to you the other evening. I was
	pretty flustered, the rings and - and you
	looked so, I don't know.

Marge shakes her head to silence him.

		RIPLEY (cont'd)
	But I hope that note goes to New York in
	your purse, for a rainy day.

		MARGE
	What are you going to do now, Tom?

		RIPLEY
	I don't know. Peter has a concert in
	Athens next month - and he's asked if I
	want to go along, help out. He says
	goodbye by the way - he's in rehearsal,
	otherwise -

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

		RIPLEY
	What?

		MARGE
		(lunging at him)
	I know it was you - I know it was you,
	Tom. I know it was you. I know you killed
	Dickie. I know it was you.

		RIPLEY
	Oh Marge.

He puts his hand out to control her. She pushes it away.
STARTS TO LASH OUT AT HIM, the frustration too much, so that
Ripley has to cover his face. MacCarron comes off the boat to
restrain her.  Ripley looks at him as if to say: what can you
do, she's hysterical. MacCarron nods, pulls her on to the
boat. Greenleaf catches Ripley's eye, guiltily. Turns away.
They stand silhouetted as the launch revs up and surges off
towards open waters, passing the little fleets of gondolas.

EXT. FERRY FOR ATHENS, NAPLES. DAY.

A week later and Peter and Ripley are on the deck of the
ferry, the HELLENES, as it sails towards Greece.  They're
laughing.

		RIPLEY
	Ask me what I want to change about this
	moment.

		PETER
	What do you want to change about this
	moment?

		RIPLEY
	Nothing.

INT. PETER'S CABIN. DUSK.

Peter's in a bathrobe organising his currency, his
traveller's cheques. Ripley knocks on the door, comes in.

		PETER
	Hello.  What are you up to?

		RIPLEY
	All kinds of things. Making plans.

		PETER
	Plans - good, plans for tonight or plans
	for the future?

		RIPLEY
	I don't know. Both. My plan right now is
	to go up on deck, look at the sunset.
	Come with me.

		PETER
	You go. I don't want to get dressed yet.
	Come back though.  Come back.
		(smiles at him)
	You know, you look so relaxed, like a
	completely different person.

		RIPLEY
	Well, that's entirely your fault.  And,
	if I fall overboard, that'll be your
	fault too.

EXT. DECK OF THE HELLENES. SUNSET.

Ripley stands on deck, staring at the magnificent sunset.
Then a voice shakes him from his reverie.

		MEREDITH
	Dickie?  Dickie?

He turns. He's caught. Suddenly he's Dickie.

		MEREDITH (cont'd)
	Dickie, my God!

		RIPLEY
	Hello Meredith.

		MEREDITH
	I was looking at you, your clothes, I
	wouldn't have known you...

		RIPLEY
	Well, you've spotted me and so you get
	the reward.

		MEREDITH
	What?

		RIPLEY
	Just kidding. Are you alone?

		MEREDITH
	Hardly. I couldn't be less alone.

Meredith points to the UPPER DECK BALCONY where TWO OLDER
COUPLES are walking around the deck.

		RIPLEY
	Of course.  Aunt Joan.

		MEREDITH
	And co. A lot of co. Oh, God, I've
	thought about you so much.

		RIPLEY
	I've thought about you.

And now he's thinking I can't kill them all...

		MEREDITH
	When I thought about you I was mostly
	hating you. Where've you been hiding?

		RIPLEY
	I haven't been hiding. I've been in
	Police custody. They've been trying to
	flush out Freddie's killer.

		MEREDITH
	You're kidding.

		RIPLEY
	They're letting me have this vacation.
	Which is why the get-up. Which is why you
	haven't heard from me.

		MEREDITH
	You know, the whole world thinks you
	killed Freddie? It's terrible.

		RIPLEY
	I know. Look, I can't talk now. Later.
	Later?

He kisses her.  Full of future.

		MEREDITH
	So - are you travelling under R?

		RIPLEY
	You know what - I am.

		MEREDITH
	Dickie, are you with Peter Smith-
	Kingsley?  I bet you are. My aunt thought
	she saw him.

		RIPLEY
		(horrified)
	Peter Smith-Kingsley? I haven't seen him
	in months.  No, I'm alone.
		(and he understands this is not
		any kind of lie)

INT. PETER'S CABIN. NIGHT.

Peter's working on his score, lying on his front, apparently
engrossed. Ripley knocks and enters. Looks long at Peter.

		PETER
	How was it?

		RIPLEY
	Good. But I think we should stay in here
	for the rest of the trip.

		PETER
	Was that Meredith?

		RIPLEY
		(sighs)
	Was who Meredith?

		PETER
	Meredith Logue. You were kissing
	somebody. Looked like Meredith.

		RIPLEY
	Hardly kissing. Kissing off.

		PETER
	Didn't look that way - you know - from a
	distance.

		RIPLEY
	I lied. To her. She thought she'd seen
	you.

		PETER
	Why lie?

		RIPLEY
	Dickie and Peter, that's just too good
	gossip, isn't it?

		PETER
	Or Tom and Peter even.

		RIPLEY
	Well that would be even better gossip.

		PETER
	Really, why?
		(completely lost)
	Sorry, I'm completely lost.

		RIPLEY
	I know. I'm lost, too. I'm going to be
	stuck in the basement, aren't I, that's
	my, that's my - terrible and alone and
	dark - and I've lied about who I am, and
	where I am, and so nobody can ever find
	me.

		PETER
	What do you mean lied about who you are?

		RIPLEY
	I suppose I always thought - better to be
	a fake somebody than a real nobody.

		PETER
	What are you talking about - you're not a
	nobody! That's the last thing you are.

		RIPLEY
	Peter, I... I...

		PETER
		(conciliatory)
	And don't forget. I have the key.

		RIPLEY
	You have the key. Tell me some good
	things about Tom Ripley. Don't get up.
	Just tell me some nice things.

He sits on the bed, leans against Peter. His eyes are
brimming with tears.  He takes the cord from Peter's robe and
begins twisting it in his hands.

		PETER
	Good things about Tom Ripley?  Could take
	some time!... Tom is talented. Tom is
	tender... Tom is beautiful...

		RIPLEY
		(during this, and tender)
	You're such a liar...

		PETER
	...Tom is a mystery...

Ripley is pressing against him, moving up his body, kisses
his shoulder, the cord wrapped tight in his hands...

INT. RIPLEY'S CABIN. NIGHT.

Ripley returns to his cabin. Sits on the bed, desolate.

		PETER (O/S)
		(cont'd)
	...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!
		(feeling Ripley's weight on
		him)
	Tom is crushing me. Tom is crushing me.
		(suddenly alarmed)
	Tom, you're crushing me!

The door of his closet flips open with the swell and he
catches his reflection. It swings shut. Open then shut.
Through the porthole the weather's changing as the light
dies. There's a swell as the horizon rises and falls in the
round glass. Ripley, alone, in a nightmare of his own making.

THE END.

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