The Case for Marge Sherwood in The Talented Mr.

Ripley

By MaiLei Meyers

SCMC 5002 Analytic Essay

 Throughout this analysis of The Talented Mr. Ripley, written and directed by

Anthony Minghella, I will apply the concept of approaching the real and Slavoj Zizek’s

interpretations of the objet petit a and “looking awry” on behalf of Marge Sherwood, the

under estimated love interest of Dickie Greenleaf. I argue that Marge’s slow realization of

what’s at stake keeps her alive while bringing her closest to approaching the real through a

climactic downward spiral.

Zizek uses the concept of anamorphosis as a metaphor for “looking awry” when

critiquing Shakespeare’s “Richard II.” Anamorphosis is a distorted image that appears

normal when viewed from a specific angle or with the correct mirror or lens. Zizek writes,

“A detail of a picture that “rightly gaz’d,” i.e., from a straightforward, frontal view appears a

blurred spot, assumes clear, distinct shapes once we look at it “awry”” (33).

Marge experiences two moments of realization that contribute to the manifestation

of both her suspicion and mental decline. She slowly moves from a distorted but

straightforward view of Tom Ripley and his intentions, to that of something “awry.” Many

of her moments in the first half of the film showcase her peripheral social position, but also

as someone who must remain appeased. She smiles, makes drinks, and feels insecure about

her value in Dickie’s life as his relationship with Tom progresses. Her seemingly vain

concerns around romantic status help her glide under Tom’s radar. For example, Freddie’s

fate holds no chance of survival from the moment he expresses tangible discomfort. His

instincts were right, but only to his detriment.

Marge first recognizes Tom as a threat when they’re out on the boat as a group. She

tells him, “The thing with Dickie. It’s like the sun shines on you. … And then he forgets you

and it’s very, very cold. […].” Though this may seem like a superficial issue, Marge
acknowledges her discontent by structuring it as an alliance. Though the film showcases

Tom’s experiences, viewers are socially guided to understand Dickie’s behaviors and

potential flaws with Marge’s shared history as a guide.

Marge’s emotional foundation shows signs of stress much later, at the opera, when

Tom literally bumps into her and Peter at intermission. She assumed he was going to

Venice but can sense that something remains off. When they part ways, she buckles. Peter

coaxes her out of a trance, insisting they return to their seats as she cries in confusion.

This first crack in an otherwise controlled façade showcases Marge’s movement

toward the real. The real exists as that which cannot be symbolized without disrupting, and

though it’s based on the looming premise of death, recognizing Tom’s horrendous acts

often ends similarly for many of his victims. As time passes, Marge approaches psychosis,

or when what is foreclosed in the symbolic returns from the real as symptom.

From the moment Marge found Dickie’s ring in Tom’s apartment to when she leaves

Italy with Herbert Greenleaf, Dickie’s father, her chances of maintaining stability dissolve.

Until then, she had experienced “a nostalgic yearning for a “natural” state in which things

were only what they were, in which [she] perceived them only from an objective point of

view” (35). She knows things can never be what they were, but Dickie’s ring no longer

allows her to turn a blind eye.

On the verge of tears, she hustles around Tom’s apartment while he dresses. As she

reaches the door, Tom backs her into a literal and figurative corner while confessing a love

he supposedly harbored for her. As he accidentally cuts himself with the sharp edge hiding

in his pocket, Marge blurts out what she has never admitted before, “I don’t believe you. I

don’t believe a single word you’ve said!” We understand that “the frontier separating the
two “substances,” […] is precisely what prevents us from sliding into psychosis” (35). This

merging of Marge’s suspicions with clear evidence against Tom nudges her over the edge.

She tries informing Dickie’s father of what she knows, only to be disregarded

because of the deceptively simple role she played in his son’s life. As she says goodbye to

Tom, she asks him what he’s going to do now. He uses the same placid niceties as before,

though we understand his intent has changed. She asks, “Why do I think there’s never been

a Ripley rainy day?” and launches herself at him. She beats him on the head, yelling that she

knows he killed Dickie and that he’s guilty regardless of what anyone believes. She

unhinges mentally and physically, saying what no one else will. At this moment, Marge

Sherwood approaches the real more so than ever before.

Throughout The Talented Mr. Ripley, Marge slides under the radar as an

underappreciated presence in the dichotomy of Dickie Greenleaf’s life. Her slow evolution,

from jealous lover to suspicious quasi-widow to someone with a sense of conflicting power

and isolation, showcases how she was able to evade death while every other victim could

not. Her experience serves as a primary example of the power of “looking awry,” even if it

cost her sanity.

 Work Cited

Ž ižek, Slavoj. “Looking Awry.” October, vol. 50, 1989, pp. 31–55. JSTOR,

www.jstor.org/stable/778856.

Minghella, Anthony, director. The Talented Mr. Ripley. Paramount Pictures / Miramax Films,
1999.