Watch "Ripley" on Netflix: The Ultimate Postcard from Italy
Forget social media; immerse yourself in this 8-part series showcasing Italy's most significant art and architecture.
There are many reasons to swoon over "Ripley" on Netflix. It’s like a beautiful postcard from Italy in 1961, when Rome was an open-air museum, there were no cruise ships in Venice, and the Amalfi Coast villages were for artists, writers, and fishermen. Each scene offers something beautiful to gaze at, including actor Andrew Scott’s face, which he masterfully employs as a stage for his character’s counterfeit emotions.
"Ripley" revels in Italian ideals—old-world architecture, the click and swoosh of well-made leather shoes moving across a terrazzo floor, or a waltzy guitar strum that welcomes you to Sicily. I love the chronically broken elevator in Rome and accompanying Tom, Dickie, and Marge on the long bus rides across the Amalfi Coast, as well as up and down the whitewashed steps. The reality of moving through a complicated landscape is now seen as annoying and inconvenient instead of an authentic experience of a place designed for another era.
If you start watching “Ripley” and think it’s slow, close the lights and watch the screen like a painting. As a Lecturer at the Cloisters, I learned a technique from the art educator Rika Burnham. The museum’s visitors were invited to sit silently for a long look at a work of art. We’d coach them to note whatever they noticed with no particular agenda. The length of time was unspecific, but the goal was to wait until the silence felt awkward because your sight begins expanding on the other side of discomfort. Then, you could invite people to share their thoughts.
Gaze long enough at “Ripley,” and you realize it’s a master class on Italy. It features so many of the most significant works of art and architecture that are becoming less visited in the age of social media. TikTok videos have become like pornography, with either too-close shots of oozing food or drone photography to sell you an impossible view of a place. Instead, Tom reads the news before Hadrian’s Temple in Rome, climbs the crumbling stairs of the Palazzo Sanfelice in Naples, and meets a fellow con artist in the sparkly Caffè Florian in Venice.
There are so many scenes that play out in agonizing detail. Why, for example, do we have to go back and forth twice with Tom to check on his crime? On the one hand, it drives home how, for a sociopath, the details of a heinous act can be as tedious as returning home to make sure you did indeed turn off the oven. Or maybe it’s just another chance for us to admire the moonlit cobblestones on the Via Appia or the arches of the Claudian aqueduct.
The cinematography also plays with the art to make more of it. In Episode 7, Tom observes the statue of Palermo’s Santa Rosalia in a Baroque twist, then looks up at the water dripping from the large stone above. The scene transitions to Marge languishing in a similar pose while the water drips on a stack of dirty dishes in the sink.
I admire how "Ripley" also comments on art; first, when Tom goes to Dickie’s art studio, he peruses his paintings and immediately realizes that Dickie is vapid. Similarly, Marge's manuscript for “Atrani” is a bad impression of what an uninspired person thinks is good writing. These are rich kids with the privilege of taking themselves too seriously, and Tom hates them for it. Then Dickie introduces Tom to Caravaggio, whose eyes light up in front of the painter’s dark and savage canvases.
If you’re going to Rome anytime soon, pay particular attention to the scene where Tom goes to see Caravaggio’s "Calling of Saint Matthew.” He plunks a coin in the box, and stage lights suddenly illuminate Caravaggio’s three paintings. You, too, can have that same experience in Rome, with no skip-the-line tickets required. The paintings are in a chapel in the church of San Luigi dei Francesi. When you enter, go to the far left-hand corner. Load your wallet up ahead of time with a few one-euro coins and enjoy a long look. It’s a magnificent experience.
That the series is all just an excuse for a lavish trip to Italy becomes as clear as a crystal ashtray when Tom arrives in Venice. The law is close on his Ferragamo heels when he boards a water taxi. He peeks out as it passes under the Rialto Bridge, and a moment of giddiness races across his face because even a man who is dead inside can feel something in Venice.
If you’ve ever wished there was an “Eat, Pray, Love” for art history lovers, you’ll probably love “Ripley”, too.
My favourite tv of the year so far, it’s sublime. And I loved its slowness. Still thinking about it.
I’ve been meaning to watch, but after reading a review like this, I have to move it to the top of the queue! I’m also planning my first trip to Italy in December, so it’ll be fun to select itinerary items based on locations in the series.
(Also, you may not remember, but we briefly worked together back in 2013, when I edited and produced a blog post you wrote for the Met on the history of Washington Heights when the Cloisters was constructed. It was one of my favorite articles to work on in my five years there. I came across your piece on the Unicorn Tapestries here on Substack a few months ago, made the connection, and quickly subscribed! Glad to be reading your lovely writing again, Danielle.)