Bernard, when I knew him, was a tall, blonde, quite handsome French man whose office was in Sara Bernhardt’s former Paris residence. He had a Great Dane who lounged at his feet and he generally qualified for the term bon vivant.

Bernard toiled in the television and film industry and became very well known internationally as the Executive Producer of the revival of a popular British TV series.

However, for me, this was the early days of my association with this industry and it was in Cannes where I met Bernard. He was always accompanied by a beautiful "fiance" and was fun-loving to the absolute limits of my distraction.

Each day and evening we spent on the Cote d’Azure that April was an adventure. I drank then which added an element of the unpredictable (let alone the potentially catastrophic) to each outing. But to Bernard’s credit – or as an indication of how foolish he really was – he soldiered on through each embarrassment, still showing up the next day, ready to again demonstrate more Riviera delights.

One of the dining rooms at the famous Colombe d’Or.

From the hushed and somewhat beatified dining room at the Colombe d’Or to the pretentious, cash-only (then) Hotel du Cap to the Hotel du Paris in Monte Carlo to the swinging discotheques of St. Tropez, our little band of revelers barely stopped for sleep.

The harbor at the once-sleepy fishing village of St. Tropez.

During the St. Tropez outing, we lunched at La Liberte , a wonderful café situated in the heart of the nude beaches which are just outside St. Tropez. These beaches are quite different from those in Cannes – sauvage (wild) is the descriptive term most often used meaning that they exist in a more natural state; less groomed and artificial. I remember the meal that day as simply outstanding – rack of lamb seasoned with herbs plucked from the surrounding earth and roasted over an open grill not more than thirty feet from the sea and literally hundreds of very naked and well-oiled, thus glistening, brown bodies either frolicking in the sea, reclining on mattresses or dining in the café itself!

Of course, Bernard insisted that "when in Rome" – thus what ensued was an embarrassed and quite tentative compliance. A remarkable day!

Alas, Bernard was looking for me to spearhead a large investment in the production of his then-faltering series. As my association with Bernard continued, somewhat precipitously, I slowly leaned that he was a rogue and not to be relied upon. But, as the years passed, I learned that to survive as an independent film maker or TV producer, you better have lots of money – or at least access to it – or, possess the characteristics of a rogue and be fearless enough to utilize them!

I haven’t seen or heard from Bernard for many years but I remember him as a good friend and a most memorable companion. He, more than anyone, introduced me to the pleasures of living on the Mediteranean coast and in Europe.

This memory reminded me of an excellent movie about a fictitious rogue (although a sociopathic and murderous one): “The Talented Mr. Ripley” starring Matt Damon and directed by Anthony Minghella. The incredible seascapes and towns where the film was shot is recognizably the spectacular Riviera coastline; although Italian, in this case.

Movie Review:

The Talented Mr. Ripley

Directed byAnthony Minghella— Paramount 2000
Starring: Matt Damon, Gwyneth Paltrow, Jude Law, and Cate Blanchett

Adapted from the Patricia Highsmith novel, this is a highly unusual movie. It is particularly well-crafted with exceptional production values, which is also somewhat unusual given the “quirky” nature of the story – because the protagonist is, at least, a sociopath, if not a psychopath.

Thus we have a kind of “Hannibal Lecter” as our hero but without a Clarisse Starling!

Matt Damon plays Tom Ripley, a lavatory attendant at a Broadway Theatre, who plays the piano well enough to land odd, private and paying gigs to augment what must be a meager income. But, according to Tom himself, his real talents are the art of impersonation, acts of near-perfect forgery and the ability to tell credible lies.

Tom Ripley augments his meager income by playing the piano at weddings.

When we first meet Tom, he is playing the piano for a Park Avenue terrace party overlooking Central Park. It is here that he is introduced to both the world of money and the opportunity to partake in its attendant lifestyle.

Some years ago, when directing a documentary, I found myself at the villa of Gore Vidal (novelist, historian, essayist, and raconteur) which is situated in Ravello on the Amalfi Coast, just South of Naples, very near where our Tom Ripley begins the European part of his adventure.

Tom steps into a European playground, where his murderous adventure is about to begin.

Without explaining the context, I’ll just say that at one point Mr. Vidal stated that Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy’s mother had married into the Auchincloss family, which was “Big Money” – and, he paused, looked at me and asked if I understood what he meant by “Big Money”. I knew that I didn’t really comprehend because of the way he asked – I’ve never forgotten that question.

Well, in this movie, Tom Ripley, due to a lie and a case of mistaken identity, is offered the opportunity to join the “Big Money” crowd at play in Europe – and he seizes it with a ferocity and deadly enthusiasm that makes your head and moral sense spin.

This is an excellent movie, gorgeous to look at, Europe has never looked better, the actors never make a false step and the direction provides a deft and beautiful world of twists, turns, surprises, deception and murder.

I believe there are five more Highsmith novels with Tom Ripley as the central character – they, in my opinion, are very good, and, to my knowledge, one more very good “Ripley” movie with John Malkovich; but this production is, by general consensus, the best – and not to be missed!