Being a fictional character was filled in with certain traits because his character existed in a particular way, shaped by small, flat flashes in the script. When the film lived in Billy's memory, it had been completed by a lively, brilliant performance from Jude Law, fresh and striking in its own way. But Billy carried that same foundation forward and layered his own interpretation over it, sipping small glasses of water he pretended were tequila, soft drinks he treated like whiskey, and perhaps a little beer.
A personality as direct as Dickie Greenleaf stands in sharp contrast to Billy's usual seriousness. He studies people, and because of that, it becomes easier for him to turn and shape each trait of the actor into an idea of who Dickie is what spoiled boys are like, those who always act in their own interest, those who prefer a simple life for as long as they can maintain it. There is a certain charm in that simplicity. Performances are often defined by biases; some believe the best way to build a role is to take those biases and bring them to life. For that reason, Billy embraced those biases, refining them until he elevated the character beyond expectation.
--They say you'll be staying in Italy for quite some time, working on a film that's bound to fade into obscurity.-- Gwyneth replied sharply, with a drifting tone. In this scene, she carried a distinct beauty; after everything, after the separation, he saw in her a kind of maturity, yet at the same time, a pure beauty that belonged only to her—that softness enhanced by her clear skin and blonde hair, captivating men while quietly stirring envy in women.
Billy sighed.
--Films. A completely independent picture, slow-paced, with a few recognizable actors. A small cast.-- Billy recalled the designs of The Lady from Shanghai, which now seemed to belong to a completely different film from what he expected in the coming days. The goal, in truth, was simply to break away from routine, to make cinema in his own image, and to live through performances—as was happening with Mr. Ripley taking roles he might, in other circumstances, have rejected.
--Always working without rest.-- Gwyneth whispered.
--It works when it's enjoyable.-- Billy replied. --Making money is enjoyable at its core, and acting has nuances that always manage to surprise me. And this film, for example, is good exactly as it is.
-Scene 13, take 4.-
EXTERIOR. MONGIBELLO. EARLY MORNING.
ANOTHER DAY. Church bells ring. Dickie, dressed in shorts, rattles up the cobblestone path toward the square on his MOTORBIKE. He stops before a steep staircase. Ripley, holding a book, almost invisible as he climbs a hill, sees everything and, intrigued, watches as a young and beautiful Italian woman, Silvana, exchanges a sharp flirtation with Dickie before climbing onto the bike behind him.
DICKIE
I've been looking for you everywhere.
SILVANA
Oh, so 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 toward the sea.
What had become of his work, of the work that once felt full? For some time now, imagination itself had taken on a suspicious edge.
-cut.-
They filmed three to six scenes, where Billy's task was simply to repeat his lines and try to be affectionate.
--We'll shoot the afternoon as if it were midday.-- The director told him, sending him back to the house while they captured lighter shots of the motorcycle, preparing for a longer take. That would be all. People tended to film more slowly here than in other environments; they didn't want to rush into it. Time unfolded in two stages, the first being—
--Let's do this quickly so we can go to lunch.-- Antony Minghella would say, now observing the work from a different perspective. It was better to take a breath in order to do better work. One must raise the bar of effort when necessary, and that is never during a meal. Thinking beneath a hammock is far more satisfying than anything else.
-Scene 14, take 5.-
EXTERIOR. MARGE'S HOUSE. AFTERNOON.
Dickie appears in Marge's garden, the sea behind him. Marge sits at her outdoor table, surrounded by remnants of lunch. Dickie, embarrassed, arrives late and freshly showered.
DICKIE
Sorry, sorry, sorry. I know I'm late, I'm a pig.
MARGE
Did you forget where I live? It's four o'clock sharp.
DICKIE
I just woke up. I'm sorry.
MARGE
You just woke up!
DICKIE
Fausto and I... we went out on a boat, we were fishing, and then dawn came and we hadn't caught a thing.
MARGE
Well, we ate everything without you.
DICKIE
We?
MARGE
Yes, Tom Ripley is here.
Ripley appears with a tray to collect more dishes.
DICKIE
Who? Oh, Tom, hello, how are you? We thought you'd disappeared. We were about to send out a search party.
RIPLEY
No, I'm still here.
MARGE
Tom was telling me about his trip. He made me laugh so hard my nose bled.
DICKIE
Is that good?
MARGE
Oh, shut up!
Marge swats him with a napkin. They begin to tussle, everyone except Tom.
RIPLEY
I'm interrupting.
DICKIE
Can you make a Martini?
RIPLEY
(hesitant)
Sure.
MARGE
(heading inside)
I'll do it. I make a fabulous martini.
DICKIE
Everyone should have a talent.
(to Ripley)
What's yours?
RIPLEY
(without hesitation)
Forging signatures. Telling lies. Impersonating just about anyone.
DICKIE
(enjoying himself)
That's three. No one should have more than one talent. Go on, do an imitation.
RIPLEY
Now? Alright. Give me a moment. Talent—
(his voice ages, his face shifts)
The only talent my son has is collecting his allowance.
DICKIE
(completely confused)
What? What is this?
RIPLEY
I like sailing, believe me, I love sailing! Instead, I build boats and other people sail them.
DICKIE
(incredibly impressed)
Stop! That's too much! You're giving me chills!
RIPLEY
(enjoying it)
Jazz, let's be honest, is just insolent noise.
DICKIE
I feel like he's here. Awful. Like the old bastard's standing right here! That's amazing! How do you know him?
RIPLEY
I met him in New York.
DICKIE
Marge! You have to hear this!
MARGE
(returning with drinks)
What? What?
DICKIE
Let me introduce you to my father, Herbert Richard Greenleaf.
RIPLEY
A pleasure to meet you. Dickie has made a fine play. I know Emily feels the same.
MARGE
What is going on?
DICKIE
Incredible!
MARGE
I don't get it.
RIPLEY
Would you consider going over there, Tom, and bringing him back?
DICKIE
What?
RIPLEY
I'd pay you. If you went to Italy and convinced my son to come home. I'd pay you—
$1,000.
-cut.-
The end of each scene always gave way to a moment of rest. Food was served at the table, and it had become a tradition—a shared table where everyone contributed something meaningful.
-Looks like we've got seafood.- Billy whispered, reaching for the pesto sauce. The quality of the cuisine melted across his palate, and ideas came to him with confidence and clarity. He needed to do whatever he could.