The Talented Mr. Trump

The Talented Mr. Trump

Twenty-five years ago, a young Matt Damon, Jude Law and Gwyneth Paltrow starred in a strangely interesting film called The Talented Mr. Ripley. The story was about an underachiever who has enough education and self-awareness to choose a course of action to improve his circumstances by committing dastardly deeds and assuming someone else’s personality and life. What makes the movie so eerie is that Tom Ripley seems like a polite and pleasant sort of guy, but, in fact, he is deeply flawed on many levels. This year, Netflix has sponsored a new series based on that same story and called it Ripley. It was written by Steven Zaillian, a brilliant screenwriter of my own vintage who has somehow missed my awareness and yet has written many amazing films like The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Schindler’s List, Searching for Bobby Fischer, and The Irishman. THe cinematography alone makes the Netflix series worth watching because the artistic black and white filming so perfectly captures the feeling of 1960’s La Dolce Vita Italy that I felt like I was back in my adolescence, sneaking about the back streets of Rome. It was fun just to see all the places from Venice down to Palermo where we have actually been and which look the same today as they did then.

The troubling part of the show is that the Mr. Ripley character, played by Irish actor Andrew Scott is so compellingly likable while being so morally reprehensible. Why are we drawn to people we know are bad to the core? What causes our fixation on them and wish that we either had the lifestyle they have or had the balls to do what they do? It is a strange psychosocial reality that has its deep roots in the nature of the human condition. Ripley is a version of the little devil that sits on our shoulder telling us to do what we know is wrong, but which seems fun and alluring at the same time. I suspect many of us dream about being wantonly reckless in our lives and simply not caring about the consequences. This represents the lesser part of our souls that tries to convince us that we are worthy of special treatment whether we have earned it or not.

Last night, after finishing the Ripley series, I had a sleepless night, tossing and turning and actually getting out of bed twice to try to clear my head. As difficult as it is to capture dreamscapes, I know that I was dreaming about Ripley and one of my favorite nightmares, Donald Trump. Why the connection? Well, as is my habit, I try to get a jump on my writing by throwing down a title on paper even though I will not be dedicating the time to write a story until later or the next day. Last night, the Ripley series ended at about 9pm, which left me an hour of news watching before I was prepared to go off to our bedroom for the night. Kim usually takes longer to get ready for bed and I am less willing to go prone on the bed until at least 10pm since I know my joints can’t take lying about for too many hours at a clip and I would rather postpone my wake-up until after 6:30am or so. Watching nightly news is hardly unique, but these days with the trials of Donald Trump taking center stage regularly in the news cycle (especially on a Friday night), there is plenty of troubling coverage to unsettle one’s sleep. I found myself drawing parallels between the talents of Mr. Ripley and the talents of Mr. Trump in the areas of fraud, false pretense, evil deeds and entitlement.

Like Tom Ripley, Donald Trump was born to enough privilege to have all the tools available for success, but his character flaws or perhaps his bad luck prevented him from achieving his self-righteous destiny. This unacceptable outcome usually causes one to try again harder and perhaps sometimes cut a few corners to place the ends squarely ahead of the means. People of good conscience either avoid the biggest pitfalls or satisfy themselves with lesser achievements. People like Trump and Ripley quietly maneuver to change their circumstances at all costs while pretending to be an innocent victim when accused or suspected of being ill-intentioned. It was particularly interesting to see almost every person that interacts with Ripley recognize exactly what he is, but being uncertain enough to back off those suspicions due to his affluence or perceived social status. Even hotel desk clerks look crosswise at him and see something amiss. The off-putting nature of his mannerism is subtle, but all too present to completely ignore. Strangely enough, the only person Ripley engages with that seems completely familiar with and OK with his character is the member of the Gomorrah (the Uber-nasty version of the Mafia) with whom he transacts on some blatantly stolen property (a sailboat).

I have now spent most of the last decade wondering how people of America cannot see Donald Trump for exactly who he is. I have told countless people about Trump’s image in New York circles, especially New York banking circles and developer circles, both of which I have been a senior member. I always felt that if they knew who he was and what he was, they would steer clear and him and his electoral chances would be null and void. But watching the way Ripley moved through Italian society has caused me to change my mind. In the same way that people are drawn to Ripley even while they find something about him quite objectionable and off-putting, the same dynamic seems to be in play with Trump. There are those who are completely familiar with and OK with who he is and those are his loyalist base and acolytes that are as morally reprehensible as he and the Gomorrah are. But it is the rest of his electorate that are so much more interesting to contemplate. These are the people that know and see that he does things that are wrong and hears him say things that are lies, and yet they choose to ignore it. These are the people who like to say that there is a “bigger picture” that must be considered and who opportunistically set aside character as a central determinant of worthiness in the political realm.

Ripley easily bludgeons two victims and almost does so to a third without remorse. In fact, it is the very sanctimonious nature of their characters that make them worthy of being his victims. How dare they treat him that way or think of him the way they do. He is not a criminal. He has done no wrong. He is an innocent victim and he reminds us of that by writing in his own praise in the adopted voice of his very victims. Tom is actually a good guy, you know. We also see Tom Ripley as amazingly talented (hence the original title) and perhaps finding his greatest success in his deviousness and brilliant larceny.

That is what played into my Trump nightmare. He is so very good at evading detection even though everyone knows he is guilty. His slippery ways are legendary to the point that we wonder whether he can ever be caught out. We go to sleep understanding his continued freedom from conviction, but yet hoping and convincing ourselves that sooner or later he will have to pay the piper. Mr. Ripley is a very entertaining character in a sixty-year-old black and white artistic setting, but Mr. Trump is increasingly less entertaining and rather more upsetting in his apparently fearless and brazen antics to keep himself one step ahead of justice.