A Talent For Murder

A Talent for Murder was bound to be entertaining: who wouldn’t want to watch Helen Mirren play the unapologetically cantankerous novelist Patricia Highsmith? And the fun only ramps up once ambitious young editor Edward (Alden Ehrenreich) arrives on her doorstep, with big dreams for a bestselling collaboration.

But ultimately, Anton Corbijn’s fictionalised two-hander is best suited to fans who share Edward’s passionate belief: that Highsmith has created ‘the most compelling protagonist of the second half of the 20th century’.

Those fans will already know Edward is referring to Tom Ripley, the smoothly sociopathic antihero of The Talented Mr. Ripley and four other novels. As Corbijn and writer Joanna Murray-Smith (adapting her own stage play) envision things, Highsmith may not be that different from her famous creation. When Edward arrives at her Swiss home in early 1995, hoping she’ll commit to one last Ripley tale, the ageing author gruffly rebuffs him. But beneath his shy and humble mien is a guy who simply won’t take no for an answer. That holds whether she snarls insults, waves knives in his direction, or threatens to poison his lunch.

Eventually his obstinacy impresses her, and she agrees to consider a new book if he helps her write it. So together, they come up with a scheme that plays out onscreen in a parallel story. Edward has just met beautiful stranger Clementine (Olivia Cooke) on the train to Highsmith’s house, and soon Ripley (also Ehrenreich) meets and marries a fictional version of Clementine (also Cooke), while plotting his way past the relatives who stand between him and her inheritance.

Mirren leans enthusiastically into the writer’s nasty side

When Edward reconnects with Clementine in real life, the two storylines entwine until it’s tough to tell where one ends and the other begins. Has he convinced Highsmith to craft one last masterwork? Or is Highsmith creating a true-life criminal mastermind?

Murray-Smith doesn’t have Highsmith’s instinct for drawing blood and seems hesitant to answer the very questions her script poses. It doesn’t help that the filmmakers are so clearly enamored with their leads that the energy drops every time we leave Highsmith’s house. The supporting cast (which also includes Juliet Stevenson as Clementine’s suspicious aunt) makes so little impact, they may as well be extras. Unfortunately, this also undermines the ending: if we don’t care about certain characters, their fates hold little weight. 

It’s a different story inside Highsmith’s home, however. Corbijn is an intensely visual filmmaker, and his camera deftly plays Switzerland’s wintry chill against the seductive warmth within. Her house is so well designed, in fact, that it becomes another character: between the beautiful bookshelves and burled wood, a person could easily overlook the swords on the wall and the cyanide in the cupboards.

Mirren leans enthusiastically into the writer’s nasty side, while Ehrenreich turns out to be a coolly adept sparring partner. Between the two of them, there’s no shortage of sharp edges. But when it comes time to deliver the final blow, this meta-mystery simply doesn’t cut deep enough.

In US theaters Fri Oct 23.