In some ways, Ripley is ruthlessly aligned to Patricia Highsmith’s beloved 1955 novel, The Talented Mr. Ripley. Writer/director Steven Zaillian uses the breadth of eight episodes to dive into the details of the antihero’s deceptions, laying the groundwork for his dubious backstory, specifying his clever check counterfeiting, and keeping close to the source material when it comes to Ripley’s most malicious crimes. But one little detail has been altered in this Netflix miniseries, and it makes a big difference. It’s all about a dressing robe.
For those new to the world of Tom Ripley (All of Us Strangers‘ Andrew Scott), the new series bearing his name stars Scott as an enterprising American who lives uncomfortably on the fringe of New York’s high society. That is, until shipping magnate Herbert Greenleaf inadvertently gives him a way to dig in like a tick.
Greenleaf’s 25-year-old heir apparent, Dickie Greenleaf (Johnny Flynn), has fluttered off to Italy, where he harbors romantic dreams of becoming a painter. Desperate to get him back to America and invested in the family business, Herbert — believing Tom to be a friend to his prodigal son — offers him a paid trip to Europe with the task of convincing Dickie to come home. But shortly after setting foot on a picturesque (and piping hot) Italian beach, Tom falls hard for this affluent life of leisure — and Dickie Greenleaf himself. Using his wits and flexible moral code, Tom Ripley will do whatever it takes to stay in this cushy social sphere. No one will stand in his way.
But what does a robe have to do with all this?
Why the robe in Ripley matters.
Credit: Netflix
In both the book and the show, Dickie’s mother entreats Tom to take a few gifts for her son with him: Some socks, some shirts, and a robe. In both versions, she’s precise on all the objects except for the robe, insisting that Tom — as Dickie’s friend — pick a color that would suit her son. In the novel, when Tom presents the robe he’s chosen to Dickie in Italy, Highsmith describes the minor event like this, “As Tom had anticipated, Dickie was extremely pleased with the bathrobe.”
In the previous chapter, Tom had thought all he desired was for Dickie to like him, so the American playboy approving of his sartorial style here is a feather in his cap, as it were. But in the show, things don’t turn out so pleasant. It’s not just that Dickie doesn’t like the robe — though he doesn’t. It’s that Zaillian uses Dickie’s distaste of it to build a thread in a tapestry of Tom’s resentments and feelings of rejection.
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In episode 1, “I: A Good Man Is Hard to Find,” Tom obediently rolls into Brooks Brothers to retrieve the ordered clothes. When the snobby clerk notes Mrs. Greenleaf has left the color choice up to Tom, he says, “Oh, I think the maroon.” Without hesitation, the clerk corrects him sharply, “The burgundy.” Tom blinks and drops his gaze, repeating sheepishly, “Burgundy.”
Ripley is presented in black-and-white, so the viewing audience cannot see this color (maroon or burgundy or not). However, when a wide shot reveals all three potential dressing robes side-by-side, the one Tom’s chosen stands out all the same. The other two are striped, mirroring the style of a blazer or business suit perhaps. The third — the burgundy — boasts a loud paisley pattern.
“Are you sure?” The clerk responds, a hint of judgment in his tone. Tom is sure.
Ripley‘s robe illustrates Tom’s otherness.
Credit: Netflix
This first robe scene is one of many moments in the series in which Tom’s taste is called into question. The implication between him not knowing the name of this hue and his choice of the loudest robe suggests he is lowbrow — even by the standards of Brooks Brothers’ clerk. But even before this blunder, there are details that show how he stands out among the wealthy: Tom’s wrinkled shirt. His hands plunged self-consciously in his jacket’s pockets. Then his slight embarrassment at the color correction. He is othered in this moment for failing to meet the aesthetic standards of the high class and for feeling shamed by a shop clerk. (We’ll soon learn that even Dickie gets the color wrong, but no one will correct him.)
Episode 2, “II: Seven Mercies,” reveals Dickie’s reaction to the robe. Looking over the shirts from Mrs. Greenleaf, the dashing young man offers a snide comment, “My mother doesn’t seem to realize that the best shirts in New York were imported from here,” meaning Italy. Yet for the dressing robe, he reserves a sharper disdain. “Of course she’d choose this one,” Dickie says, looking upon the robe while Tom looks upon him expectantly. “Who in the world would ever wear a purple paisley robe? I mean, my god. It’s awful.”
In the book, Tom is pleased to know he and Dickie share a similar taste, proven by Dickie’s approval of the chosen robe. In the show, Tom looks stricken. It’s not just that they don’t have the same aesthetic; it’s that Dickie’s blasé remark unknowingly declares Tom as having terrible taste, as being less than. Yet Dickie calling this robe “purple” is another clue to Zaillian’s adaptation.
Purple has long been a color tied to queer-coding. In the 1950s, when gossip columnists were writing about Hollywood leading men whose homosexuality was an open secret (or a deeply hidden one), they’d use code words like “confirmed bachelor,” “dedicated to his mother,” and sometimes note a purple flower in his lapel. It seems Zaillian is drawing on these codes of Ripley’s time to allude to Tom’s own unspoken same-sex yearning for Dickie. Essentially, without realizing it, Dickie is calling Tom out, and not kindly.
Later in the TV series — as he did in the novel — Dickie will confront directly Tom about his presumed queerness — which Tom denies vehemently. Perhaps this robe scene plays into why Tom rejects this label. Dickie isn’t sophisticated enough to get the color of the robe right, but he wrote the “purple” robe off as a “awful” thing. Inadvertently, Dickie rejected Tom’s hint of who he really is beneath his flattering facade. And the sting of this is clear on Andrew Scott’s face, as Johnny Flynn goes on chattering with no apparent notice.
Yet the queer subtext gets more pronounced in the robe’s final big moment.
How the robe seals Freddie Miles’ fate.
Credit: Netflix
After their disastrous boat ride, Tom returns to Dickie’s villa to pack up the late heir’s things. To substantiate his story that Dickie is moving to Rome, Tom — as a bosom buddy — is gathering up his effects. Among Dickie’s jewelry and suits, Tom also packs the robe. Later, in “V: Lucio,” when unwelcome acquaintance Freddie Miles (Eliot Sumner) barges in, Tom tries to convince him this Roman apartment is Dickie’s, not his. But Freddie is suspicious and spots something strange.
Hung on the lone bedroom’s door is the paisley robe, a garish trinket amid the marble floors and dark wood furniture. An insert shot draws the audience’s attention to it, but Freddie doesn’t immediately mention the robe, instead asking for a drink and feeling out this Ripley character.
After making him squirm for a bit, Freddie accuses, “You’re living here with [Dickie], aren’t you?” When Tom denies this, Freddie counters, “Dickie wouldn’t be caught dead in that ghastly robe.” Tom doesn’t speak, but his eyes grow fierce as if he’s fixing on a dark decision.
In the book, Freddie comes to a similar conclusion of cohabitation, but it has no connection to the robe. (It’s a piece of jewelry that triggers Freddie’s declaration.) Desperate to keep the real secret of Dickie hidden, Tom kills Freddie in that apartment, and swiftly blames the victim. He decides that Freddie is the kind of man who’d beat someone up for being a “pansy.” Highsmith’s prose invites the reader into his further internal justification:
“One could loathe Freddie, too. A selfish, stupid bastard who had sneered at one of his best friends — Dickie certainly was one of his best friends — just because he suspected him of sexual deviation. Tom laughed at that phrase, ‘sexual deviation.’ Where was the sex? Where was the deviation? He looked at Freddie and said low and bitterly, ‘Freddie Miles, you’re a victim of your own dirty mind.'”
In The Talented Mr. Ripley, Tom doesn’t so much grapple with his sexuality as he fiercely runs from it by becoming Dickie over admitting in any real way his complicated feelings for the man.
How Freddie is different from the book to the Ripley TV show.
In contrast, Ripley doesn’t paint Freddie as homophobic, instead implying Freddie and Tom might have queerness in common. In the book, Freddie is described as an ugly “mountain” of a man with red hair. In the series, he’s played by the slender Eliot Sumner, whose look is androgynous and suave.
Notably, during their fatal confrontation, Freddie wears a printed scarf that could be deemed “loud” in the same way as the robe. He had a flirtatious energy toward Dickie in earlier episodes and perhaps regards Tom with a pang of surly jealousy. Plus, the naked young man waiting for Freddie in his hotel room further suggests the character’s queerness. In the show, Tom exploits the Italian police’s presumed homophobia as a tool to suggest Freddie was a debaucherous, unsavory sort, who might wind up murdered because of his lifestyle. In this way, Tom shows to the audience a keen awareness of how gay men were often maligned, even as he uses it to his own selfish means.
Essentially, in the series, Freddie and Tom as presented as more alike than they are different, down to their flamboyant accessories and the implications of them. This suggests queerness alone might not have led to Tom being cast out of Dickie’s circle of friends. However, Tom’s queerness is not as important to the character as his deep fear of alienation. One informs the other, certainly, as the supporting characters in the book — and to a lesser degree in the show — regard “sissy” behavior with a sneer. But Tom’s driving motivation is his need to be included, and once he is rejected by Dickie, he strives lethally to present himself as a man worthy of inclusion.
Love might seem too foreign a concept to a man who refuses to know himself the way this American tourist does. Tom creates entire fictions for himself to keep from recognizing his own flaws. Beyond Dickie, the embrace of high society is something Tom cons his way into throughout this series. Playing to the egos of the wealthy, he mirrors the interests of his posh prey. He manipulates their emotions by exploiting their vanity. He spins tales to amuse them and make himself seem more a jester than a threat. He seeks validation via party invites, fancy dinners, and day trips. Still, his resentment keeps him at a remove, as do his resulting crimes of theft and murder.
Whether using the name Dickie or Tom, he doesn’t let anyone close. Yet he yearns to be seen and coveted — perhaps like a purple paisley robe from Brooks Brothers.
