From the outset, it’s a choice that creates a colder, more spartan imagining, and many of the shots in which the camera lingers – on medieval alleyways, religious artworks, seaside vistas – resemble silver gelatine photographs.

Shot on digital cameras, it’s a starker vision than traditional film noir, but no less stylish. Veteran cinematographer Robert Elswit (The Night Of), uses measured tracking scenes, carefully composed shots framed through doors, windows and shelves, and more stairwell shots than Hitchcock’s entire oeuvre.

And the mood is as cold as those marble stairs. When Ripley introduces himself to Dickie and Marge, the pair recline on a deserted beach on what doesn’t look like a particularly clement day; cafes and shops seem mostly empty, and even in the background, it seems nobody is enjoying themselves. There’s barely a smile in the entire series.

Even when trying to ingratiate himself with Dickie, Scott’s Ripley never looks terribly friendly, and as the series goes on, he grows more disquieting, his often blank expression more menacing than any frown.

Where it was implied that Ripley was gay in Minghella’s film, here his sexuality is ambiguous, and his obsession with Dickie the more sinister for it: there is no passion behind his actions.

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The pacing of the series might test the patience of some; a couple of episodes almost take place in real time. This works to create terrific tension in some instances, but in others – particularly scenes in which we follow Ripley doing his (admittedly criminal) admin – it can almost be as tedious as doing one’s own banking.

But Scott’s performance – and he is in almost every scene – is outstanding. You may never think of him as the “hot priest” again.