Binge-watching Ripley

I've binge-watched Ripley on Netflix, having been side-lined to the couch through a dog-related injury. Just as I was getting my head back this weekend, Whiskey knocked my body out for the count yesterday. After a great run on the moor with him and just near home, after putting him back on the lead, he pulled going down a very slippery grassy ramp and had me off my feet - legs up in the air, coming hard down on my back. I've been in agony since. It has completely knocked the wind and the stuffing out of me. I seem to be having a bad run of luck at the moment.

But Ripley was fabulous. Slow and beyond beautiful, both the photography and Andrew Scott's performance are utterly spellbinding. Shot in gorgeous black and white, every single frame is a work of art in its own right. No exaggeration. Tom Ripley's smile will forever haunt me. I could easily turn the sound off and watch the whole thing again, allowing myself to fall in love with the Italy it depicts. Sadly, the monochrome version rendered on screen, with modern tourists out of shot, is all but a dream. The whole production is extraordinary. Award surely beckon.