Dakota Fanning Transformed Marge Into the Perfect Villain

Like every adaptation of Patricia Highsmith’s The Talented Mr. Ripley, Netflix’s new rendition follows Thomas Ripley as he travels through Europe after murdering his friend Dickie Greenleaf and stealing his identity. This may be the second of two fantastic performances Andrew Scott has delivered in the last six months, but it’s Dakota Fanning’s turn as Marge Sherwood that shines in Netflix’s Ripley—in ways that past versions of the character never could.

While Tom believes himself to be the ultimate outsider, he and Marge are two sides of the same coin. Deep down, the titular character knows this, and it makes his hatred of her grow. But, instead of being a side character that simply gets on Tom’s nerves—like in Anthony Minghella’s 1999 film, the best-known film based on Highsmith’s novel—Marge uses his hatred for her to her advantage, reinventing her character along the way.

The two are clearly separate factions warring for the same man’s attention, and cracking each other’s resolve as Tom and Dickie grow closer. Unlike Paltrow’s version of the character in the 1999 film, Fanning’s Marge is suspicious of Tom from the very beginning. In the Netflix series’ penultimate episode, “Macabre Entertainment,” she tells Inspector Pietro Ravini (Maurizio Lombardi), who is looking for Tom, that he is the “kind of person who takes advantage of other people”—but then maybe, so is she. Her love for Dickie (Johnny Flynn) is like Tom’s love for him: superficial. Here, Dickie is not as magnetic as the 1999 filmic version of him, which works if we think about Marge and Tom being obsessed with the idea of Dickie rather than the actual man himself.

It works well for this more grim rendition, wherein two characters are battling it out, trying to one-up each other like they’re playing a game of chess. And whenever Tom and Marge are on screen, that’s what it feels like they’re trying to do. When Tom and Marge are together in the first few episodes, he acts not as the illusive man we see when he’s alone. Rather, he is almost catty with her, allowing for awkward pauses in his conversations with Dickie to overwhelm the room each time she enters. Often, when his facade wavers, it’s as if her mere presence is revolting to him and he can’t stamp out the look of disgust on his face. Likewise, Marge is equally disgusted by Tom, letting out an exasperated breath whenever she unfortunately finds herself in his presence.

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Stefano Cristiano Montesi/Netflix

Though there’s a lot here that’s different from this story’s most famous version, in particular, Marge not simply being a victim of Tom’s jealousy is perhaps the biggest change over Minghella’s adaptation. In Zaillian’s interpretation, she is the villain in Tom’s story and, at times, also to us. Her animosity toward Tom—while warranted—begins before he commits murder, and while she’s right about him in the end, this introduction to her feels off-putting. Tom’s boyish disposition in the first two episodes makes him come across as someone we can trust and even see ourselves in, and Marge’s reaction to his charm later on forces us into his shoes, rather than hers. Even after Tom has killed Dickie, it feels nearly impossible to hate him, with Andrew Scott’s beautiful face tarnishing any trace of villainy once you get lost in his eyes.

Her slick apathy is entirely purposeful, provoking Tom in a way that showcases how much she wants him to understand that he doesn’t belong in the life she has with Dickie. Yet, there’s a mention that Marge is from small-town Minnesota, which alludes to a modest past—more like the one Tom previously led than the luxurious life she now has. The two of them are more similar than either would like to think, and they both are seen attempting to get a leg up in life by bonding with a rich—yet sadly dull in comparison to 1999’s take from Jude Law—playboy.

This take on Marge is fresher than that of Paltrow’s, her most recent on-screen counterpart. Here, she is not only a direct foil for Tom but also a mirror for him to see himself through every time they share a scene. It’s as if each time they reunite, Tom is forced out of the disguise he wears and forced to confront his normalness. He doesn’t just want Marge off his case to escape his criminality; he wants her gone because she represents a version of himself he knows he will ultimately never be allowed to achieve. She’s beautiful, young, and, most importantly to Tom, Dickie’s girlfriend. Instead of exhibiting these qualities at face value, Zaillian’s adaptation allows Marge to wield these aspects of herself like a weapon.

Before Dickie’s death, Marge has the upper hand in this fight for his affection, because she’s actually in a relationship with him, but that doesn’t stop her insecurity from showing, nor does it stop Tom from using that to his advantage. It’s not only the main point of contention between Tom and Marge; it’s also a central theme to both of their arcs. She is both jealous of Dickie’s time spent with Tom and genuinely threatened by him. She’s also repulsed by the thought that the two men may hold a love for each other that she can’t understand. Tom, on the other hand, is repulsed by his not being able to inhabit the life and love that Marge has with Dickie.

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©Paramount/Courtesy Everett Collection

While every other rendition of Marge is simply there, Fanning’s version is so present that she haunts the new life Tom is trying to build (and the old one he’s attempting to bury) by killing Dickie and stealing his identity.This switch in her character arc makes her not only more interesting to watch but also impossible to look away from. Fanning is impassive and cold in a way that is perfect for the world Highsmith originally created, not only more possessed than Paltrow’s portrayal but more layered as well.

As the series progresses and her character becomes even more wary of Tom, Marge in turn begins to emulate him, just like he has been emulating Dickie. Like Andrew Scott in his performance as Tom, Fanning’s Marge slinks around in each scene she’s present in, hiding a smirk beneath her lips; it’s as if she knows more than not only Tom, but the audience as well. While it feels like we can understand this version’s motives more than the 1999 version, when it’s all said and done, it feels like we know just about as much about Marge as we do about Tom.

Despite Marge’s outwardly enigmatic persona, Tom and Marge seem to know what the other wants and how they operate on a deeper level. In episode 7, titled “Narcissus,” when the two attend Pegeen Guggenheim’s party together, Marge appears as though she sees an older, lonelier version of herself in Tom, while he sees a more outgoing and stable version of himself in her. But it’s in the series’ eighth and final episode that the two realize they are both masquerading as people they aren’t. It’s as if it’s impossible for them to still conceal their true feelings or the masks they wear when they’re together. In each other’s presence, they unravel, making them both more vulnerable to each other than they have ever perhaps been with Dickie.

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Courtesy of Netflix

As the series nears its end, it becomes clearer that Tom cannot escape Marge, despite trotting through Europe to avoid her and the investigation his messiness has left behind. While Inspector Pietro Ravini seems to simply annoy Tom, it’s Marge’s presence that truly frightens him when his new life begins to crumble under the weight of a second murder and even more mistakes. The knowing look in Marge’s eye proves that she understands how she can unmask Tom’s fakeness, and instead of keeping it a secret, she holds this power over him each time they reunite.

While prior versions of the character feel more like a caricature of what Marge is supposed to represent to Tom, Fanning’s take is so front and center that she occupies Tom’s mind almost as much as Dickie does. Rather than Dickie’s disappearance driving Marge to madness, in Netflix’s Ripley, it invigorates her, forcing the character to become an active participant in the narrative. In the 1999 film, Tom uses Marge’s emotions against her. Here, he’s incapable of doing so. Instead, her hatred for him is so strong that she’s willing to use it to not only find out what truly happened to Dickie, but to also continue forcing Tom to realize that he still does not belong in the life she had with her partner. In turn, in one of their final moments together, Tom has the opportunity to kill Marge, yet he can’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he stares at her back as she looks out at the water near the front steps of his apartment, before calling her name and inviting her inside.

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©Miramax/Courtesy Everett Collection

Marge’s disdain for Tom grows with each interaction, and so does Tom’s tolerance for Marge. Despite their immediate hatred for each other, the two are now intrinsically linked by Dickie’s death. By killing him, Tom hasn’t rid himself of the man or Marge; he has instead embedded himself even deeper into her life. In Ripley’s final moments, just when it looks like the dust has settled and Tom has finally proved his innocence, Inspector Ravini opens the first page of Marge’s book, a copy of which she has so graciously mailed to him. It’s dedicated to Dickie, and a full-size picture of him—the real him—graces the bottom of the page. Without even meaning to, Marge holds the power to make Thomas Ripley and his life unravel. She continues to haunt him, and the show, in a way that would seem unfathomable for her other renditions. But here, in the end, by holding her hatred for Tom so close to her heart, Fanning’s Marge deservingly gets the last laugh.