Patricia Highsmith tells the Pals the tale of the allegedly Talented Mr Ripley, and the real Charles Dickens arrives.
In a six-minute mini-episode, Patricia Highsmith tells the Midnight Pals her story of the (maybe not so) Talented Mr Ripley, and then the real Charles Dickens himself drops in at the campfire.
Content notes: swearing, discussion of internalized homophobia, violence and discussion of murder, stalking.
CAST:
with
Script, audio production and music by Robin Johnson. The Midnight Pals created by Bitter Karella ©
A transcript of this episode is available at https://midnight-pals.simplecast.com/episodes/the-tale-of-the-talented-mr-ripley/transcript
Patricia Highsmith's novel The Talented Mr Ripley (1955) is a psychological thriller dripping with the sort of blatant homoeroticism that gets described as "gay undertones". It and its several sequels have been adapted for screen multiple times, including the 1999 movie in which Matt Damon and Jude Law play chess in the bath, and the 2024 Netflix miniseries in which Andrew Scott walks up and down stairs.
Hans Christian Andersen was Charles Dickens' worst fanboy ever. In one episode, he invited himself to the Dickens' home, overstayed by several weeks, and reportedly cried when finally made to leave.
Submitted for the Approval of the Midnight Pals is a work of social and literary satire. All characters are fictitious, especially the real ones; any elements of work not in the public domain are used for the purpose of parody and comment, and no challenge is intended to the ownership or validity of any intellectual property.
Subscribe to Submitted for the Approval of the Midnight Pals on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, YouTube, Pocket Casts, or wherever you find podcasts. If you enjoy the show, please leave us a rating or review. For more information, see https://midnightpals.com
FADE IN CAMPFIRE AMBIENCE
POE: Tonight’s storyteller is Patricia Highsmith.
HIGHSMITH: Submitted for the Approval of the Midnight Pals, I call this story [SPARKLE] “The Tale of the Talented Mr Ripley”. It’s about a disillusioned young man in the 1950s.
BARKER: Is he a repressed self-loathing gay guy?
HIGHSMITH: Maybe.
SHELLEY: Does he channel his latent queer tendencies into murder?
HIGHSMITH: (PAUSE) Maybe.
SHELLEY: OK, go on.
KING: What’s he talented at?
HIGHSMITH: You’ll see. (BEAT) So, Mr Ripley gets hired by a rich old man, Mr Greenleaf, who wants him to find his estranged son in Italy.
LOVECRAFT: Aaaah! Italy? Jesus, Patricia, ever hear of content warnings?
KING: So he’s a talented detective?
HIGHSMITH: No, not exactly. He’s a con-man.
POE: A talented one?
HIGHSMITH: Not particularly. But what the hell, this old guy hires him anyway. He can’t find anyone else for the job.
LOVECRAFT: Yeah? He must live in like, a small town in New England.
HIGHSMITH: No, he lives in New York City.
SHELLEY: Where there famously aren’t any private detectives?
HIGHSMITH: That’s right. But then he goes to Italy and finds the old guy’s son, Dickie. And he falls hard in love with him, because as Clive so accurately predicted, he’s gay as fuck.
KING: I see, so he’s interested in Dickie as a friend, right?
HIGHSMITH: No, they’re both queer and they’re pretty obviously into each other. They go, I dunno, singing in fields with their arms around each other, whatever guys who are into guys do.
KING: Close guy pals. Got it.
BARKER: Do they bang?
HIGHSMITH: Mmm... let’s say it’s ambiguous.
KING: In other words, no?
HIGHSMITH: Ehh... actually I meant ‘ambiguous’ more in the sense of ‘yes, absolutely’. Whatever. Anyway, Ripley’s so ashamed of his feelings that he decides to murder Dickie.
SHELLEY: Called it.
HIGHSMITH: They go for a motorboat ride, and when Dickie’s back is turned, Ripley bonks him with a big pole, and thrusts him over the rail.
KING: Hang on. Patricia, was that murder, kinda, symbolic of anything?
POE: Steve...
HIGHSMITH: (DEADPAN SARCASTIC) No, Steve, of course not. Ripley just penetrated Dickie with his big wooden shaft, and then Dickie went down. It’s just a murder. Nothing suspect about it.
KING: Oh, so Ripley is a talented murderer?
HIGHMITH: (CHUCKLING) Hoo boy, no he’s not. He tries to weight Dickie’s body down with the anchor, but when the rope uncoils, Ripley trips over it and gets pulled into the sea himself! Splosh! AND as he’s falling out, his hands are flailing around and he accidentally starts the motor! So the boat’s chasing him round and round in a circle in the middle of the ocean! (“JAWS” MUSIC) Da DA! Da DA!
KOONTZ: (LAUGHS) This is just like a Wile E Coyote cartoon!
HIGHSMITH: Yeah, I thought you’d like that bit, Dean. Anyway, Ripley manages to get back on the boat, then he’s like, I know! I’ll take over Dickie’s identity!
KING: Right, he’s a talented identity thief!
HIGHSMITH: Haha no, he’s useless! He almost gets caught by this Italian cop.
LOVECRAFT: Ooh... Italians are bad, but cops... cops are so good!
HIGHSMITH: But I wanted to do a couple sequels, so he gets away.
CHARLES DICKENS: (APPROACHING) Hellø, Midnight Boyfriends and Girlfriends. It’s me, Charl-es Dickens!
HIGHSMITH: Hey, good to see you, Charles.
KING: You got a cold or something, Charles? You sound a bit, uh, Danish.
LOVECRAFT: Oh my god! Is that catching?
DICKENS: (DANISHLY) Whaat? Nø, I’m fine! English bjorn and bred... uhh... apples and pears, me old Bob’s uncle! Pop the kettle on and we’ll have beans on the tøast.
BARKER: Sounds legit.
POE: Haven’t seen you in a while, Charles. What you been up to?
DICKENS: Oh, this and that. I went on vacation with my good friend Hans Christian Andersen. We hung out, braided each other’s hair...
HIGHSMITH: Waaait a minute. (SUGAR-COATED) What stories have you been working on, Charles? More gritty but uplifting sagas about life in the London slums?
DICKENS: Oh! Oh yes. My vörk in progress has lots of cheeky street urchins and problematic loan sharks... no mermaids at all!
HIGHSMITH: Uh huh, I see. ’Cause, uh, you know my wife, she adores your work. She’d be over the moon if I could pass on a little sneak preview about your next story...
DICKENS: Oh, I don’t know about that--
HIGHSMITH: Nothing spoilery, y’know, just something to whet her appetite, like, say... (SLYLY) the names of some of the characters?
DICKENS: Um, well... (GRAPPLING) there’s the obsequious lawyer, Mr Bootlick... then there’s the lovable chimney sweep, Chimney McSweepface... and the grumpy orphanage owner, Mr Assbastard.
POE: Steve, are you thinking what I’m thinking?
KING: I sure am. Charles Dickens would never name his characters with such subtlety!
SHELLEY: Let’s find out who this prick really is.
SWITCHBLADE OPENS. RIPPING NOISES
KOONTZ: Oh god, she’s ripping his head off!
LOVECRAFT: ’Cause it’s a mask.
SHELLEY: Oh, that’s a thought. Hey, you’re right, it IS a mask.
BARKER: Whoah, it’s--
HIGHSMITH: As I suspected! Hans Christian Andersen!
POE: Hans... what did you do with Charles?
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN (FOR IT IS HE): (CRYING) I just wanted him to love me back!!
FADE