At one such gathering however, a neighbour starts to confidently ridicule him, unaware that he's in the room, and listening with disaffection.
Not one to let things go, the next time he's propositioned to commit murder, he remembers his unprovoked disparagement, and conceives a wicked plan.
He knows his unsuspecting assailant is terminally ill and could use good news on the home front, so he suggests that his underground contact asks him to commit the murder instead.
In exchange, a meeting with a coveted specialist will be serendipitously set up, where perhaps the new diagnosis will ease his family's despair.
He reluctantly agrees and soon it's off for feisty Berlin, where he timorously performs his newfound duty to his target's mortal chagrin.
But round 2 proves more of a challenge so Mr. Ripley lends a hand.
Where he makes a critical error.
And an unexpected friend.
A fictional glimpse into high functioning psychosis, Ripley's Game lacks ethical cohesion, everything passing by so quickly that morality languishes in ruin.
It's still an intriguing film controversially abounding with radical conscience, like a theatrical response to a philosophical question no ethicist ever thought to ask.
Ripley considers himself charming and likes to indulge in pretentious luxury, yet hasn't lost the quotidian touch which helped him amass his modest fortune.
He's like a jealous predator who sadistically taunts through practical experiment, and if his victims react with flexible accord he learns to cherish them like age old friends.
These friends become intoxicated with the shocking amoral venom, and lose sight of peaceful rationalities as the complacency consumes them.
A chilling examination of untethered ambition monstrously aligned with lavish desire, not entirely lacking in remorse, like a tiger seeking ardent companionship.
Everything's a logical puzzle requiring a fresh improvised solution.
Like haunting impulsive calculation.
Devoid of wholesome life.
