The symbolic identity of Tom Ripley has been a more
fascinating mystery than any of his tortuous confidence schemes. The character was invented by Patricia
Highsmith for her novel “The Talented Mr. Ripley,” the tale of a charming
psychopath who steals another man's girlfriend, name, and life. Highsmith went on to fever dream four more
Ripley tales and infect another, Strangers
On A Train. Most of these books were filmed. Not all filmmakers got it. But
Wim Winders is one who brilliantly did in his movie, Das Amerikanische Freund (The
American Friend), starring Dennis Hopper as enigmatic Tom.
The story is full of unlikely events and sudden trajectories
but the logic of the plot is not critical. Swiss actor Bruno Ganz plays Jonathon
Zimmerman - - a man who is tricked by a faked, but ultimately correct, fatal
diagnosis into committing murder. The motives and reasons behind the complex
subterfuge are never fully explained. And oddly, Ripley is not the con man. At
the end of the film one is left wondering, as it should be, who the hell is Tom Ripley?
Who indeed? Matt Damon took a surprisingly decent swipe at
it in The Talented Mr. Ripley. But only Hopper could take Ripley to the depths
that Winders intended. Although
Highsmith told critic Gerald Peary in 1988 that Hopper's take ‘confused’ her,
Winders has said that, after a second viewing she suddenly got it. It is the
pathos of sociopathy at the heart of Hopper’s performance and that’s where
Highsmith’s elegant Mr. Ripley and The
American Friend converge.
It begins with the ridiculous cowboy hat, linking us and
Ripley to Billy of Easy Rider. We all
tried to imagine how he might have survived the shotgun that so cruelly ended that journey. Hopper cements this
connection early on by quoting a bar of Roger McGuine’s closing song. Billy has now matured from a
sidekick into a far darker Captain America. The backstory is further suggested in the name Zimmerman, linking him to Bob Dylan. Intertwined with this set up is an example of
Ripley’s lethal sensitivity; he sets the deadly events of the story in motion because
of thoughtless insult. “I’ve heard of you,” Zimmerman says to him with disdain and seals his own doom. Hopper’s expression of cold, evil purpose is a
nightmare.
But soon after, his vengeance sated, Ripley’s emotions tack
again. It turns out that he’s conflicted with feelings of affection for
Zimmerman, setting up one of the fundamental tension of the film. In a series of brilliant visual monologues,
Hopper suggests that Ripley is a self-aware madman, knowing that the bond
between people is something that he preys upon . . . longs for, but can never fully
realize. He lies back desolate on a pool
table snapping dozens of Polaroid images of his own face, each falling unviewed
onto the tabletop. Nothing is there. In a wonderfully significant cameo as
Ripley’s mentor, director Nicholas Ray mumbles, “A little older, a little more
confused,” as his rebel departs.
Near the end of the movie, Ripley’s actions have transformed
Zimmerman. They are two sides of a coin, the edge marking the boundary between
the impulsive and reflective side of all personalities. They are bound, but only in the neurotic self-absorption
of survival. They are not friends. Ripley
tells Zimmerman, “I would like to be your friend. But friendship is
impossible.” Hopper delivers this line, not sadly but as a diagnosis, echoing the congenital blood disease dogging Ganz’s character.
Finally, Zimmerman deserts him, leaving Tom by the North Sea, his arm
around a crumbling pier. It is here
that Hopper displays the most poignant sense of Ripley, perhaps understanding
the gift he has given Zimmerman - - the ability to face the universal sociopathy,
which is death. Again Hopper reinforces
his connection to the audience by singing a snippet of a Dylan song. Ripley will go on alone through our world seeking others to challenge and transform.
Dennis Hopper was uniquely suited to pull this off. Winders gives him equal credit for his most successful work, acknowledging their symbiosis of
improvisation and method. Because Hopper’s history is woven into cinema and
because of his choice to use this emotional flux, without
embarrassment or apology, the character rings true. This separateness is a wound that Hopper
consistently chooses to expose, whatever the peril.