From the days before foreign cinema/arthouse movies became big business and were still a fit playground for non-mainstream imaginations instead of auditions for Hollywood (although this in fact was just such a showpiece for Wenders), Wim Wenders take on Patricia Highsmith's Ripley's Game has lost little of its power and allure over the past quarter of a century. A Franco-German-American co-production - a concoction which would now spell a massively compromised disaster - it uses its varied cultural backgrounds rather than allowing itself to be stifled by them as the possibly terminally ill (German) Ganz is covertly influenced by (American) Hopper's crooked art dealer to take a (French) gangster's lucrative offer to perform 'one - maybe two' contract killings.
The film buff references are there, but filtered through European cinema as much as Hollywood noir - the hero has tests at the hospital Oanassis and Jean Gabin died, Jurgen Knieper's music takes its lead from Bernard Herrmann scored for harmonica and synth and the gangsters are played by a mixture of German, French and American directors. Additionally, the then on the brink of critical rediscovery Nicholas Ray is cleverly cast as a painter everyone thinks is dead and who uses the assumption to up the prices of the multiple copies of his paintings he churns out.
While such self-conscious touches are often used to hide a lack of imagination or personal vision, this is very much Wenders' film and one with its own distinct identity. Ray's 'life after death' is less a conceit of casting than a reflection on Ganz's predicament as part of the old world (he used to restore works of art) caught in a world being rebuilt around him in which he has no place or future. Where Ray filters his art through pragmatism and survives (itself a perfect metaphor for his Hollywood career), Ganz is too caught up in his own mortality, his desperate need to be certain of his fate turning into a subtly conveyed love affair with his own death.
What's more, this is a film where everything fits. Hopper's early ramblings into his pocket tape recorder in an attempt to remind himself of the person he's forgotten he ever was after years of lying to others at first seem a self-indulgence, but his words at the beginning of the film - "We have nothing to fear but fear itself" - provide the motivation for Ganz's actions, as the picture framer who constantly puts himself in the frame (both literally and figuratively) allows his paranoia over his disease to set him on the road to his rendezvous with death.
As a thriller it has two great setpieces - Ganz's clumsy stalking of his first assignment on the Metro and a double-killing gone wrong on a train that is real edge of seat stuff. By comparison, the finale loses its way somewhat, with the characters giving into both their and the situation's absurdity with a giggling fit. Despite this, the film doesn't disappoint, holding the attention throughout its deliberate and sometimes esoteric build-up and staying in the memory long after it has finished. One of the best foreign films of the seventies and still Wenders most completely satisfying work to date, it's well worth a second (or even first) look.
Anchor Bay's deleted DVD is well worth tracking down - as well as a good widescreen transfer of the film that makes the most of Wenders' and cinematographer Robby Muller's ambitious use of colour and sweeping camera movements, it boasts an excellent extras package, including audio commentary, 30 minutes of deleted scenes, outtakes and behind the scenes footage and the film's trailer.