The ‘ACS: Versace’ Finale Sidelined Its Women For A Very Good Reason

Since its premiere The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story has been decidedly different from other shows. It’s a Ryan Murphy series that remains constantly somber and dark, veering away from the campy tone that so often defines the creator. It’s a show that portrayed a serial killer who targeted the gay community not as a sideshow attraction or a punchline but as a psychologically compelling horror story. It’s a show that proudly and directly discussed LGBT discrimination in broad strokes that applied to both Gianni Versace‘s murder by Andrew Cunanan and modern day conversations about discrimination. In many, many ways the Versace season of American Crime Story was revolutionary — but this revolution left very little room for the women of this story. That changed last night with the season’s finale, “Alone.”

It’s worth taking a minute to praise the skill that went into structuring Versace. The first 10 minutes of this crime drama started with the crime that made Cunanan a household name — his murder of legendary designer Gianni Versace. It was the dramatic and celebrity-laden hook that made this story instantly engaging, but after starting with that bang, Versace switched to a controlled burn as it slowly and painstakingly unravelled the lives of the five men Cunanan murdered, as well as Cunanan himself. After this winding narrative back through history, “Alone” snapped back to the moment right after Cunanan committed his most famous murder. This figure who was always defined by who he was, compared to the people around him, is now alone on a houseboat, waiting for his inevitable death. It’s a haunting transition from the confident and dangerous man the show has established Cunanan to be, and it’s also a shift that allows Versace to embrace its chorus of grief-stricken women.

Because of who he was and what he did, Cunanan is again the central focus of this episode, but he shares the spotlight with several personifications of grief; the most notable of which is Judith Light‘s Marilyn Miglin. Caught between relief that her husband’s murderer will finally be captured, and unbridled anger that it’s taken authorities this long, Marilyn’s grief is shown hiding under a deceptively strong-willed and steely exterior. In between her fiery glares and lip quivers, Light shows just how much this loss has wounded her character. Penelope Cruz‘s Donatella Versace has a similar but much more extravagant breakdown. Surrounded by gorgeous fabrics, this once seemingly fearless woman laments the last time she ignored her brother’s call. All season this character has been portrayed as the height of sophistication and wealth, but in this one moment as she sobs, she’s no longer beautiful. She’s in pain because of the man she lost, and no amount of beautiful dresses can bring him back.

Though Light and Cruz undeniably steal the show, there are other flickers of grief from Versace‘s female secondary characters. At one point, Cunanan (Darren Criss) is shown watching a reconstructed interview that actually happened with his longtime best friend, Lizzie (AnnaleighAshford). It’s a small moment, but Lizzie’s reminder that this serial killer was a godfather carries weight. Cunanan had a life and people who genuinely loved him before he became the monster he died as. Though its a far more subtle moment, the wide-eyed Mary Ann Cunanan (Joanna Adler) also gets her moment to mourn the son she used to adore. Shown transfixed to the crime report unfolding in Miami, Mary Ann follows without question when the police ask her to come with them. Regardless of what happens next, she knows her little boy is dead. As horrible as Cunanan’s many crimes were, that revelation hurts.

Ricky Martin‘s Antonio D’Amico also gets a heartfelt moment of mourning in Versace‘s final episode, choosing to take a handful of pills rather than face life without his lover. However, there’s a sort of intentional dullness to Martin’s portrayal of sorrow. He seems so hurt, he’s unable to fully express his pain in any form other than action. Though those actions communicate Antonio’s own personal grief, it’s the tears of the women around him that make “Alone” a distinctly sad episode of television.

In a way, it’s a bit odd that a show as revolutionary as Versace would end on such a typical portrayal of gender. In our society, women are the ones who are allowed to cry and express grief while men are expected to bottle up these particular emotions. Aside from a couple of pointed outbursts from Antonio throughout the season, that’s essentially what happens in Versace. But seeing as how this episode was directed by Daniel Minahan, the director who was responsible for some of this season’s most spectacular episodes including “House by the Lake”, it feels like there’s a very good reason why this show’s emotional climax hinges on breaking down its strong women.

As the show establishes, strong, confident women were always Gianni Versace’s muse. The designer had little patience for fashion empire institutions that took themselves too seriously, instead choosing to embrace models and designs that embraced life. Because of this, ending this powerful story with two of the show’s most powerful women shamelessly expressing grief over the lives they have lost feels like a tribute to Gianni Versace himself. Yes, the final moments of Versace are appropriately tinged with sorrow, but there’s an unexpected ray of happiness lurking beneath them. Though he was cruelly taken away before his time by a mass murderer, the world was lucky to have Gianni Versace while it did. That’s what Versace‘s mourning women partially represent — pain that such wonderful people were taken before their times.

The ‘ACS: Versace’ Finale Sidelined Its Women For A Very Good Reason

Andrew Cunanan, David Koresh and Patty Hearst: Sympathy For The Devils

Andrew Cunanan, David Koresh and Patty Hearst. Who are three people who have never been in my kitchen*?

But seriously…

Cunanan, Koresh and Hearst. On the surface they have nothing in common, other than than being three notorious figures who had done wrong in one way or another (serial killer, polygamist with way too many guns, kidnap victim turned revolutionary bank robber), capturing the world’s attention. Over the past two months, they OVERLY captured MY attention, as their incredible and tragic stories unfolded in three separate, but (mostly) equally excellent TV series – The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story, Waco, and The Radical Story of Patty Hearst.

I live for series like these, because things that happen in the real world are always more compelling than stories that are made up (that’s why I STILL prefer Rome over Game of Thrones). I come to these types of series to learn, and to ask why, but what I didn’t realize would happen upon exiting them is that I would find myself sympathizing with these devils. The levels of badness differ between Cunanan, Koresh and Hearst, but after spending all this time with them, I see them now more as humans with flaws (some more deeply flawed than others) than as the pariahs that the media and the passing of time have turned them into.

‘The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story’

I am not much of an awards guy, but in my hopes of hopes, I want Darren Criss to win 17 Emmys for playing Andrew Cunanan. Cunanan lived a life of lies, but mainly because he always wanted to impress people, make friends and feel loved and wanted. Darren Criss conveys this so perfectly that I was impressed, and loved his character so much that I wanted to actually be his friend. When Criss as Cunanan was charming and happy, I was charmed and happy. When he was doing wrong, and going on the lam, I was disappointed (and disgusted) that he was doing these actions, and yet I was somehow secretly hoping for him to NOT get caught. What is wrong with me? How could I possibly find empathy for a guy who senselessly murdered at least five people?

ACS: Versace brilliantly tells the Cunanan’s story backwards – starting with Versace’s murder, and tracing his sordid life back to childhood. By the time we learn the truth about his father Modesto, and how he professionally swindled people and left his family with nothing, you can see where everything started to go wrong for Cunanan. He just wanted a better life for himself, but unfortunately, that better life always seemed to elude him, so he took it out on those who were able to do what he wasn’t able to – succeed. And still, I felt for Cunanan. His father disappointed him. It was hard for him to be gay in a time that wasn’t easy for anyone to be gay. He was different and just wanted to feel special. Criss crossed all these roads – the light and the dark, and it somehow filled me with glee (pun intended).

But how could I not root for the Catholic school misfit who shows up at a house party in an Eddie Murphy Delirious red leather jacket and awkwardly takes center stage in someone’s living room, acting a fool like John C. Reilly in Cyrus?? Even if this scene never happened in real life and was dreamed up by the writers, I still have to shout – ‘you go Andrew!’

If only you found happiness in life, and not sadness, and didn’t created way too much sadness for way too many others.

Andrew Cunanan, David Koresh and Patty Hearst: Sympathy For The Devils

dcriss-archive:

ladylovebabs: I’m so flattered to had the opportunity to meet such an amazing talented actor and musician in @computergames the handsome@darrencriss ! 
And my gift to him is my little tribute to his iconic episode in @americancrimestoryfx 😳😳👙✂️.
.
.
I’m still in shock!!!!!!!!!!!!😚😍😍😍
.
Hoy y mañana en #plazacondesa en #cdmx

#darrencriss #darrencriss4president #glee #fan #computergames #americancrimestory #andrewcunanan #realdeal #amazingperson #iconic #ladylove #ladylove4u

American Crime Story: The Assassination of Gianni Versace, ‘Manhunt’: I Am a Serial Killer

The second episode of The Assassination of Gianni Versace begins with a series of small scenes following Versace’s diagnosis of HIV; the impact on him, on those around him, and the familial strife that surrounds the great man. Versace (Edgar Ramírez) is clearly terrified as he looks upon the ravaged bodies of young men in their hospital beds, hiding himself behind a pulled up hood and sunglasses. He recounts the death of his older sister when he was young, how he always believed until that point that, “If you get sick, you can always get better”. Now, he is face to face with something that resists most of what medicine can throw at it; something that may be an unbeatable foe. He is a man confronting his own mortality.

His sister, Donatella (Penolope Cruz) blames Versace’s long-time partner, Antonio (Ricky Martin), and the lifestyle, she says he brought her brother into. Donatella is not capable of believing that Versace may have enjoyed the company of other men alongside Antonio — it must be something he felt forced to do in order to keep his long-term love at his side. Donatella places her brother on an Olympus-high pedestal, only believing the best things about him, foisting anything she finds undesirable onto the actions of others. To her, Gianni is a pure soul, too kind and loving to say no. For Donatella, Antonio has taken advantage of her brother’s boundless love and now, she perceives this to be the result.

Gianni pushes and emphasizes the importance of family and unity, telling Antonio and Donatella, clutching their hands in his, “I need us to be a family, I cannot do this if we’re not.” We are given an insight into the past, as if Versace were speaking from beyond, seeing how things may fracture if this familial turmoil goes unaddressed.This is all given an added weight and sadness because we know exactly how Versace will meet his end, and we have seen from the previous episode that Donatella will move quickly to margianlise and malign Antonio within hours of her brother’s death. This is not to paint Donatella as an unfeeling monster; she is simply a person trying to exercise control and apportion blame where she feels it should be. Donatella is so fiercely protective of her brother — his person, legacy and image — that she will go against his wishes if she thinks that is what is needed, that love is not always giving someone what they want, but sometimes protecting them from themselves. We see the depth and extent of Donatella’s love, as she dresses Versace in his final suit, his body lying silent in his casket. She gently, lovingly secures his tie, his cuff-links, holding his hand and stroking his hair. She is overcome with grief, seeing to her brother’s final appearance and cremation. She and Gianni’s brother, Santo depart with Gianni’s ashes, taking them back to Italy. It is just the two of them, Antonio not present.

Donatella has dismissed her brother’s pleas to remain strong and together, earlier informing the grieving Antonio, “He is gone, Antonio. There is no need for us to pretend anymore.”

Cunanan, looking for a room in a twenty-nine-dollar-a-night motel, wraps the elderly receptionist around his little finger in a matter of seconds. He is charming and verbose, filling her head with stories of his having been born in France, and how he is a fashion student hoping to talk with “Mr. Versace”. He then sets about scouting out the designer’s residence and living his true itinerant, criminal life. Andrew strikes up a relationship with a fellow resident of the hotel, Ronnie (Max Greenfield). Ronnie is soft-spoken, submissive and a nice person. When with Ronnie, Andrew vacillates between his usual outrageous lies and some aspects of his true self. Because Ronnie is an ex-escort like Andrew, and doesn’t question his  wild assertions, they share some kind of perceived bond — whether real or not for Andrew is up for debate — and Cunanan allows some of his inner self to leak out. He tells Ronnie, speaking of Versace’s creations and empire, “I see the man behind it — a great creator — the man I could have been.” Andrew views himself as imbued with the same talent and capacity for greatness as Versace, but that has somehow been denied to him.

Straight after this scene, we see Andrew picking up an older man for paid sex. This man tells Andrew, “I can be submissive”, to which Andrew replies, “You have no idea”. Proceeding to utterly terrify the man through his extreme actions, we again get that chilly feeling of observing someone who has no idea just how much danger they are in. Cunanan flips the script of the vulnerable sex worker, and places himself in total control. Andrew does these things because he needs money, but also because he relishes the control he has; the control over a person, over whether this person lives or dies, over their fear. After this encounter, the man dare not turn his back on Andrew. After Cunanan leaves, the man tries to call the police but cannot bring himself to do it — because of the stigma, the fear and, perhaps, the perceived shame of becoming a victim — that he has been a victim of something he can’t even articulate.

We are then thrown into a confrontation between Versace and Donatella before the start of Gianni’s latest show. Versace extols the virtues of life and joy, a passion reborn from the battle he is winning against his illness. Donatella pushes for thinner models — the dark and the extreme. She prods Versace with talk of front covers and other upcoming designers, intimating that people are no longer saying that Versace is the future. Gianni responds by laying out his vision for proud, strong clothes for proud, strong women; an exaltation of life and the joys therein. Versace doesn’t care about pursuing and snatching at the popular, he will define it in his own way and on his own terms.

As the show ends to rapturous applause, Dontella smiles and claps with everyone else. She desires only to see her brother at his best, even if that means contradicting him and pushing him.

Back at their hotel, Andrew and Ronnie obtain and smoke some crack together. Ronnie lays out his idea for returning to his once-vocation as a florist, opening up a kiosk, and positing that he and Andrew might run it together. It’s a gentle dream, one that Ronnie doesn’t know is impossible with a person like Andrew. Cunanan emerges from the bathroom, some realization coming over him whilst under the influence, and he confesses to Ronnie and the mirror he stares into, “I’ve done nothing my whole life.” We are given insight into Andrew’s creaking, unsteady mind as he perceives an ultimate truth about himself — having a dark moment of the soul — the truth that he is ready to abandon himself to the abyss, totally. Andrew is a man of a thousand personalities and stories, and his psyche is now straining under the weight of all that accumulated bullshit. He is embracing his true self, that of killer and destroyer, because there truly isn’t anything else to be.

Cunanan witnesses a Donatella wannabe (played by the actual Donatella Versace) trying to gain entry to the Versace household. Andrew sprints back to his hotel, his clothes becoming ever more grimy and degraded, and pulls his handgun from beneath the bed. He proceeds to rip down all of the obsessive data he has collected on Gianni — articles, photographs, newspaper articles — just as he will erase the man’s very existence. Is it anger that motivates Andrew? Hatred for the person he wants to be? The desire to be intimately ingrained in Versace’s life, any way he can be? Perhaps it is akin to Mark David Chapman’s supposed motivations for the killing of John Lennon — worship that turned to hatred, implacable rage that an idol does not and cannot ever measure up to the idealized version we create for ourselves. And, in this case, the many idealized versions of Andrew that he himself cannot live up to. Andrew is now on a mission and his new “friend” Ronnie is to be left behind. Asking Andrew, “We were friends, it was real, right?” Andrew replies, “When someone asks you if we were friends, you’ll say no.” Andrew is already thinking of what will come to pass, the explosion of questions that will follow his actions. He doesn’t say they weren’t friends, but he doesn’t say they were. He simply tells Ronnie how he will answer, maintaining control and keeping the truth to himself.

The end of the episode brings Versace, Antonio and Andrew to the same place, a thumping nightclub. Antonio confides to Versace that he doesn’t want to share himself or Gianni with other men anymore, that he just wants their relationship to be them and them alone. The two men are finding a truth with one another — love that they wish to keep just for themselves and share together. Versace is at a point in life where he knows it is to be cherished and admired and lived. At the same time, Andrew is on the dance floor, talking to another young man, who asks Cunanan what he does for a living. Andrew underlines his abandonment of pretence and the effort of lying, letting the fictions spill out like bad blood. He responds to the enquiry, “I am a serial killer,” then laughing it off, continues. “I said, I’m a banker, a stockbroker, a shareholder. I’m a paperback writer, I’m a cop, I’m a naval officer, sometimes I’m a spy, I build movie sets in Mexico and skyscrapers in Chicago, I sell propane in Minneapolis, I import pineapples from the Philippines. You know, I’m the person least likely to be forgotten. I’m Andrew Cunanan.”

American Crime Story: The Assassination of Gianni Versace, ‘Manhunt’: I Am a Serial Killer