American Crime Story: Versace Season 1 Episode 1 Review: The Man Who Would Be Vogue

Gianni Versace was murdered nearly 20 years ago in the summer of 1997 under the blazing Miami sun.

His murder and the subsequent hunt for his killer was one of the biggest news stories of its time. And now it’s getting the Ryan Murphy treatment.

The brain trust behind the riveting The People v. OJ Simpson: American Crime Story, have turned season 2 into American Crime Story: The Assassination of Versace Season 1 Episode 1.

And while the premiere wastes no time in showcasing the aforementioned murder, it looks like the subsequent fallout will be the main focus of the series.

Much as the OJ case concentrated on the trial, it appears that what happens after Versace’s murder, will be just as important as everything that comes before it.

If you’re entering this with fresh eyes, there’s a lot thrown at you in the first hour.

While we meet all the necessary players, we don’t get to see much beyond what we may read on a footnote. The one exception being the man behind the murder, Andrew Cunanan.

Played to absolute perfection by Glee alum Darren Criss, Andrew is the villain of this story – no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

Switching between the murder and scenes of Andrew years prior, it’s very clear that Andrew is a confused man.

A conversation with a male companion pretty much lays out the kind of man he will be.

Andrew: What does it matter what I say?
Friend: What does it matter?
Andrew: Yes?
Friend: It matters.
Andrew: Only if they know it isn’t true.
Friend: But you know.

Whether he’s boasting about his father and his riches or his dreams to write a novel, there’s a falseness and arrogance that just comes pouring off of him.

See, we are privy to seeing a glimpse of the real Andrew, a man with an empty closet, living with friends who continuously roll their eyes everytime he begins to tell a long-winded tale.

But the Andrew who boldly introduces himself to the Gianni Versace and scores a celebratory glass of champagne with the famed designer is a phony suck up, whose dastardly charm brings him face to face with the man he would later murder in cold blood.

While the OJ series played out in the courtroom and brought the conversation of race and the justice system to the forefront, this series will definitely delve into what it meant to be gay in the ‘90s and the incompetence in the search for Cunanan prior to Versace’s murder.

It looks like there will also be a peek into the lives of the other Versaces and how Gianni’s death affected not only them but the company he took to such heights.

Darren Criss steals a lot of the screen time in the premiere, but Penelope Cruz, showing up about midway through, makes Donatella Versace into a steely-eyed woman, hellbent on preserving the Versace name.

She also has an icy relationship with Versace’s partner of 15 years.

Nothing was ever asked of you, except to take care of him. You couldn’t even do that.

It’s interesting play to begin the series with the murder and switch between alternating timelines. Sweeping stories of this nature sometimes do better when they are told from a straightforward point of view – a simple point A to point B.

But I’m trusting in the Ryan Murphy magic here. There’s a reason we are seeing things in this order.

Moving forward there will be much to cover, and I think the premiere sets the stage for another engrossing series.

It’s got all of the right ingredients so far. A top-notch cast and a compelling story based on real-life happenings.

★★★★☆

American Crime Story: Versace Season 1 Episode 1 Review: The Man Who Would Be Vogue

The Assassination of Gianni Versace Episode 1 Review: The Man Who Would Be Vogue

From the very first notes of music, Versace is operatic.

It has fantastic sets and locations, and it knows it. It has a justifiable reason for using opera music in primetime, and it flaunts it. The opener is directed by Ryan Murphy, and the most creative shots are loving, unexpected portrayals of the places where these two men, killer and killed, belong. The most revealing moment, and one that speaks to the larger themes of the show, shows barely any of Darren Criss’s face as killer Andrew Cunanan, accompanied by horns that sound more like a klaxon or warning than the brass section of the orchestra.

Even Gianni’s death, and the gut-punchingly grim spectacle that forms around it, is beautiful, as is the twin autopsy of Gianni and the dove that died alongside him. This kind of show is designed to be watching with Wikipedia open in one tab, but true or not, the woman who soaks up Gianni’s blood with an ad for his clothing line (which somehow makes it more beautiful?) pushes the limits on craven American responses to celebrity death.

The first episode of a true-crime limited series (a fast-growing micro-genre unto itself) has two main goals: 1) set up the central crime/mystery to be resolved, and 2)hook the audience enough that they’ll think it’s worth sinking eight or ten hours to find out the answer.

It succeeds at the first, but I’m left unsatisfied with the second.

The present tense of the second season (or “installment,” as FX likes to call it) of this limited series is centered on a manhunt, not a media frenzy masquerading as a trial. That allows the show to take on more of a feel of a thriller, with shades of The Talented Mr. Ripley and Taking Lives. The audience sees the killer – his identity is not obscured – and law enforcement learns his identity within hours of the murder. For Versace, the question is not who did it or how, but rather why. And why, if they knew it was Andrew Cunano and were ready with a trunk full of fliers (that look startlingly close to the real thing) did it take them so long to catch him?

There’s plenty to dig into with those questions, but the episode has to do so much narrative work that it nearly runs out of room to entice us to come back for more. There is so much that’s working here, from the visuals to the performances and the promise of things to come, but it feels sluggish during the oversized runtime, which is closer to an hour than the 44 minutes we’re used to with standard TV dramas.

One of the advantages to Murphy’s American Crime Story is that his flair for melodrama and camp are tempered by the reality that the cases and literally life and death, and his shrewd (though troubled) selection of subjects who naturally call for camp. So much of this installment would be ridiculous literally anywhere else on TV, which might just be Ryan Murphy’s mission statement. Here’s hoping it’s enough to ward off the usual afflictions of his second and third seasons.

Plenty has been said about the debate over ethics in true(ish) crime, but if you’re looking to fall on the right side of the line, it helps to angle your story around larger meaning. Versace has a lot to say about homosexuality and closeting in America, and Murphy’s life experience plays into that in a way he simply couldn’t with the OJ case. Some of Murphy’s best work has been when he tells stories that fundamentally belong to his community. And though to a certain kind of white, cis gay man the story of Bette and Joan might be considered part of their canon, it is fundamentally the story of two women struggling under the pressure to contort their image and personality to compete for the spotlight, and Murphy’s continued failure to properly handle those issues weakened the series.

I’m intrigued by the way the show is handling the many ambiguities inherent in this case. Unlike The People vs OJ, our would-be defendant isn’t famous and has never spoken on the record, so Murphys team and us would-be sleuths are left to imagine many of the key moments.

If we’re talking performances, this is Darren Criss’s show and everyone else is just happy to be invited. That’s not to say the others aren’t good – Edgar Ramirez’s Gianni Versace is solid and charming, Penelope Cruz is completely transformed, and I have a feeling the best is yet to come from Ricky Martin – but rather that the script gives him so much to dig into, and he’s the perfect actor to do it. He easily mimics Cunanan’s real life chameleon physicality, and most people are already in disagreement over his sexual orientation.

Donatella is our other heavy hitter, though they held back on her as long as possible. She has an impactful entrance, though I’m mostly impressed at the restraint Murphy showed here, which fits the tone of the moment within the episode perfectly, but is unusual for him.

Penelope Cruz, who is apparently a friend of Donatella’s and has her blessing, has a tall order to serve. First, the voice. Anyone who knows anything about Donatella Versace knows that her distinct looks comes with an equally distinct accent. Cruz has to play it believably, without dipping into caricature or being so true to life that the audience can’t understand her. Second, she finds herself playing the day to day villain for much of this. She’s the one who dislikes the boyfriend that we’ve all fallen in love with after the cops are so rude to him. She’s the one who cancels the IPO. She’s the one with a sizeable reputation preceding her. And yet, Cruz’s Donatella comes across as powerful, stricken, at a lost, and completely unwilling to lose an inch of her brother’s legacy.

Speaking of that cop, though it’s startling to remember that 1997 was 30 years ago, Versace has no intentions of letting us forget that when it comes to gay rights, it might as well have been lightyears. The cop pretending not to know that Gianni and Antonio are partners, what exactly “partners” means, and then trying to comprehend group sex, has got to be the straightest thing imaginable. But Ricky Martin’s performance keeps it from becoming a punchline. His hurt when the cop suggest there’s no difference between a hookup and what he has with Gianni is deeply genuine, and a startling reminder of how few rights same-sex couples had, just a few decades ago.

That is made more stark by Cunanan’s inability to live in his own skin, his seething rage at himself and those who see him for who he is, and the insinuation that he has HIV (fact-checking suggests that while the media thought he had it at the time of his death, the ME’s report says otherwise). Criss and the script play it pretty close to the vest, letting us believe one thing and then another and then catching him in lie after lie, to the point where we question everything about him.

★★★★☆

The Assassination of Gianni Versace Episode 1 Review: The Man Who Would Be Vogue

American Crime Story: The Assassination of Gianni Versace

Hosts discuss American Crime Story for the episode “The Man Who Would Be Vogue.”
AFTERBUZZ TV — American Crime Story: The Assassination of Gianni Versace edition, is a weekly “after show” for fans of FX’s American Crime Story: The Assassination of Gianni Versace. In this episode hosts Shaka Strong, Juliet Vibert, Russel Ray Silva, and Ronnie Jr. discuss episode 1. | 18 January 2018

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Fashion Recap: The Assassination of Gianni Versace, Episode 1

Alore! It’s here: The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story premiered Wednesday night, whetting our palates for all things gaudy, neon, and of course, Italian. Below, a close reading of every look.

High Versus Low

Episode one begins with Gianni Versace (Édgar Ramírez) opening his eyes to carpe diem. He slides his feet into his Versace slippers, struts down the hallway of his (actual) Miami mansion in Versace silk pajama bottoms, and dons a flowing, hot pink robe before stepping out onto a balcony to survey his kingdom. Everything is easy, breezy, beautiful.

Meanwhile, Andrew Cunanan (Darren Criss) sits perched on a public beach below, looking out over the ocean with a scowl. He opens up his backpack, casually pulling out his only two possessions: a worn copy of The Man Who Was Vogue: The Life and Times of Condé Nast, and then a gun.

These first few vignettes set up Versace and Cunanan in stark contrast. Versace eats fresh fruit handed to him on a Versace-branded platter; Cunanan chugs a soda for breakfast. Versace wears linen shorts and a Versace Medusa logo tee; Cunanan wears sandy jorts and a nondescript gray shirt. Versace buys a copy of Vanity Fair, (Cunanan’s favorite magazine) featuring Princess Diana, who would later attend Versace’s funeral; Cunanan studies Condé Nast from afar.

When the Lights Go Down, We’re All the Same

The show works backwards, starting with Versace’s murder and then flashing back to 1990, when Cunanan first meets Versace in San Francisco. (In real life, the Versace family denies they ever met.) At the time, Versace was in town designing costumes for Capriccio, an opera. Cunanan enters a crowded nightclub wearing a leather jacket and a printed shirt, which looks like a Versace knockoff that’s faded in the sun. “Last Night a DJ Saved My Life” plays (ironically) as a crowd in tank tops and ass-less chaps dances to the music. Cunanan spots Versace, who is wearing a leather top far more polished than his, sitting in the VIP section. He makes a point to start a conversation, and succeeds in winning Versace’s attention.

The next morning, Cunanan tells the story of his encounter with Versace to his friend-slash-roommate Lizzie and her husband, embellishing the details a bit. One line in particular comes straight from Maureen Orth’s reporting, on which the series is based: “I say to him, ‘Honey, if you’re Versace, I’m Coco Chanel!” Of course, Cunanan knows he is, in fact, Versace. And in his mind, he fancies himself a bit of a Chanel.

“I’m not really a fan of his clothes, per se,” Cunanan continues. “It’s so bright; it’s too much. They say Armani designs clothes for wives; I think Versace designs clothes for sluts.” Despite all this, Versace has invited Cunanan to the opera. Obviously, he’s going.

Master of Disguise

When the big night comes, Lizzie returns home from work to find Cunanan wearing her husband’s suit, tie, and loafers. “I have nothing,” Cunanan says, explaining he wants to look “impressive.” Lizzie ultimately pities him, and lets him borrow her husband’s gold watch, too.

“[Cunanan’s] whole thing was being a master of disguise,” says costume designer, Lou Eyrich. “He was a chameleon. If he wanted to be in the rich world of older men, he dressed that part. If he wanted to fit in with his college buddies, he’d throw on his polo shirt and khaki shorts. He was straight with straight people and gay with gay people. Everything was a lie, and he lived behind that whole façade.”

After the opera, Versace meets Cunanan wearing a humble black turtleneck and black pants. Cunanan spins fictitious tales about his family, while Versace recounts more innocent stories about his idyllic childhood, explaining the origins of the Versace Medusa logo — he came across it while playing around in ancient ruins — and that he made his first dress for his sister, Donatella. “Maybe every dress I make is for her,” he says.

“That makes me want to cry,” says Cunanan.

Boss Bella

Flash back to the scene of the crime. Donatella (Penélope Cruz) arrives in a black limousine wearing black leather pants, a black leather blazer, and black sunglasses, making her signature blonde hair (Gianni convinced her to dye it) appear even more platinum. Despite her obvious grieving, she immediately gets down to business. Protecting her brother’s legacy is her number-one priority, and Versace was about to take the company public. (This was true in reality.) Donatella decides against it.

“This company was his life,” Donatella says in a tearful monologue. “When he was sad, it made him happy. When he was sick, it kept him alive. And my brother is still alive as long as Versace is alive. I will not allow that man — that nobody — to kill my brother twice.”

Revenge Suit

The episode ends with Versace and Cunanan’s roles reversed. While the Versace mansion is shrouded in darkness, Cunanan walks down the streets of Miami in plain sight wearing a sunny yellow monochrome outfit and Versace sunglasses. He buys a stack of newspapers with his name inside their pages this time, exactly as Versace did minutes before he was shot.

“Ryan [Murphy] wanted him to have this Talented Mr. Ripley moment, where he’s gotten away with murder,” says Eyrich. “You don’t know it from the first episode — because you’re going back in time — but it’s not until you watch that you understand why that [outfit] was significant.”

Stay tuned.

Fashion Recap: The Assassination of Gianni Versace, Episode 1

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THE BLOTTER PRESENTS PODCASTS: The Assassination Of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story And The Chad Boushell Interview

American Crime Story returns after a triumphant first season with an all-new mid-nineties crime, and Tara Ariano returns to discuss it, and whether, after 20 years, we should accept that sometimes there is no “why.” We’ll also be discussing whether Sarah’s the only one who thinks Édgar Ramirez as Versace looks AND sounds like Enrico Colantoni; if it’s appropriate to covet a character’s clothing if that character is a spree killer; and the question of The Nose in Penelope Cruz’s portrayal of Donatella.

In our Cold Case section, Sarah sits down with Chad Boushell – the unlucky Rob McKernan in the Bride Killa ep we looked at for Episode 39 – to ask what’s the hardest thing about playing the body, and the responsibility actors feel to real victims.

Let’s Talk About ’The Assassination Of Gianni Versace:’ Premiere

The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story just finished airing its first episode. If you read the review I published on Monday, you know I had much more mixed feelings about this season than People v O.J. Simpson, so let’s get into a few specifics about the premiere, coming up just as soon as I work on my father’s pineapple plantation in the Phillipines…

“I’m sure you’re going to be someone really special one day.” –Gianni

Of the eight episodes FX gave critics in advance, “The Man Who Was Vogue” is the one that most closely resembles many of the things that people loved about the OJ season. Though Gianni Versace gets shot before the opening titles appear, the San Francisco flashback and the arrival of Donatella to deal with the aftermath of her brother’s murder keep the hour relatively balanced between the Versaces and Andrew Cunanan. There’s an abundance of garish real-life details, like the guy who tried to auction off a photo of Versace’s body on the gurney and the autograph hounds who scooped some of Versace’s blood into a bag. And via the manhunt for Cunanan and the interactions between the local cops and the FBI agents, we start to get a sense of how badly law-enforcement blew this one, just like the OJ prosecutors did.

Let’s Talk About ’The Assassination Of Gianni Versace:’ Premiere

The Assassination of Gianni Versace: Fact-checking the Season Premiere

The second season of Ryan Murphy’s American Crime Story anthology series, titled The Assassination of Gianni Versace, explores the titular designer’s brutal 1997 murder at the hands of serial killer Andrew Cunanan. We’re walking through all nine episodes with Miami Herald editorial board member Luisa Yanez — who reported on the crime and its aftermath over several years for the Sun-Sentinel’s Miami bureau — in an effort to identify what ACS: Versace handles with care versus when it deviates from documented fact and common perception. The intention here is less to debunk an explicitly dramatized version of true events than to help viewers piece together a holistic picture of the circumstances surrounding Versace’s murder. In other words, these weekly digests are best considered supplements to each episode rather than counterarguments. Below are Yanez’s insights into the veracity and potency of events and characterizations presented in episode one, “The Man Who Would Be Vogue.”

What They Got Right

Miami Beach circa 1997
“The look and the placing of the time is accurate,” Yanez says, referencing Ryan Murphy’s time as a writer for Miami Herald. “I’m sure he would have been careful to make everything true. You can always tell when there’s a scene shot in Florida because the sun is so bright. You could tell it was a Miami Beach production, which it was.”

Versace’s final morning (and that dead bird)
“I was waiting to see people going the wrong way on the street,” Yanez says of Versace’s final walk into town, but it all scans as authentic. “From somebody asking him for his autograph and him denying it to the bird that dies along with him.” That bird, she adds, “sparked a panic that this was a Mafia from Sicily hit,” though it turned out to be “a freak, accidental thing.” Yanez also still recalls how the “puddle of dried blood remained there for days” from Versace’s wounds. If there was any discrepancy, it’s that she remembers him purchasing the European Vogue, not its American counterpart, at News Café.

The initial manhunt
“Because Cunanan had been killing people along the way, they very quickly identified him as a suspect,” Yanez says. “Here you see the police chasing somebody in a red polo shirt, and it turns out it’s not Cunanan, but that happened a lot. Many men who looked like Cunanan were all of a sudden rounded up. And [Cunanan] managed to escape. For the next 15 days, this community was in a total panic. In fact, there’s a reporter who was stopped because he looked like Cunanan and he was taken into custody for a couple of hours.”

The pawn-shop tip
“This was my big scoop,” Yanez shares of her encounter with pawn-shop clerk Vivian Oliva. “We’d just spent the day chasing leads, and one of them was that [Cunanan] had pawned a coin he’d taken from one of his murder victims up north, and he had used his real name and address on the pawn form. I stayed around and talked to the lady, and she says, ‘I hope I didn’t do anything wrong.’ And I said, ‘Why?’ And she says, ‘Well, I sent those forms to the police department.’ Immediately, I realized this was a week before Versace was killed, so that became a big fiasco for the Miami Beach Police Department because that form just sat on a detective’s desk. That pawn-shop lady is significant, and I’m glad to see they featured [her] in episode one.” Although, Yanez does clarify that the real-life Oliva, unlike actress Cathy Moriarty, is Cuban.

The arrival of Donatella
“Once Donatella arrived, Antonio [D’Amico] became a little bit of a bad guy,” Yanez says. “She took over, and he became a guy in the house. I know he was interviewed by the police, but when Donatella gets here, the family takes over and Antonio falls into the background.”

The delayed IPO
“We had reporters assigned to Cunanan and Versace himself and then to his company,” Yanez explains. “It was a delicate time for the company. That came out when we started looking into Versace’s business thinking this was a Mafia [hit], looking for that angle.”

Cunanan’s never-ending lies
Whether waxing on about his father’s pineapple plantations or aspirations as a novelist, Cunanan was notorious as a grand fabricator. (In truth, his father was living far from luxury in the Philippines.) “That’s the thing with Cunanan,” Yanez says. “He would make these stories up about his life, and as we found out later, half of it was a lie. He made it so difficult to get a grasp of who he was.”

What They Took Liberties With

The meeting between Cunanan and Versace
Yanez is generally lauding of Maureen Orth’s reporting for Vanity Fair, which led to her 1999 book Vulgar Favors, the primary source material for Assassination: ACS. But on the question of whether Cunanan and Versace became acquainted in 1990 in San Francisco and over post-opera drinks in Paris, she is somewhat equivocal. “[Orth] managed to find that they did have a past,” Yanez says. “That was the only explanation as to, ‘Why did you pick Versace?’” As far as the veracity of Orth’s account, Yanez affirms she has “no dispute, except that Orth is the only one who found a solid link. It was always very hazy for the rest of us. We could never say, ‘Yes, they met, yes they knew each other.’ She did. We could never contradict, and other newspapers couldn’t either.”

How the shooting happened
“We never knew what Versace said,” Yanez says about the designer’s final word. (The episode suggests that Versace had turned and faced Cunanan, but the autopsy results clearly state he was shot from behind in the back of the head.) “Supposedly he was ambushed. So that’s artistic license, to have him say, ‘No.’ The assumption at the time was Versace didn’t know what hit him.”

Who witnessed the murder
“[The episode] shows that there’s nobody around and Cunanan walks right up to him,” Yanez says. “I think, in reality, there were some people around and they did notice a guy in a red cap, but didn’t pay much attention to him. People who heard the shot and turned and then saw what happened afterward, not the actual shooting.”

The AIDS rumors
“That was a big rumor with Versace and Cunanan,” Yanez says. “And ultimately, Cunanan did not have AIDS. [Whether Versace had AIDS] is one of those questions we could never get a solid answer to. The specter of AIDS did play a role for both of them.” In regards to the episode depicting Versace taking prescription medication and Donatella referencing her brother being sick, Yanez notes, “It’s one of the many questions to this. They are hinting there was something wrong with him.” She adds that AIDS “was an angle we all pursued,” even if ultimately inconclusive.

The Polaroid photo of Versace’s body
“There was never a picture or anything like that,” Yanez says of Versace being placed on a gurney by the paramedics. As a result, she’s skeptical that a man snapped a Polaroid shot of the designer in his last moments alive. “The most famous picture is when the lead detective, Paul Scrimshaw, arrives and you see him near the puddle of blood. Back then, you know, not everyone had a cellphone.”

The magazine ad dipped in Versace’s blood
Newsweek did report that a fan “ripped Versace ads from a glossy magazine and daubed them in the designer’s blood,” but it’s doubtful the display occurred as depicted in “The Man Who Would Be Vogue.” “That area was sealed off for days,” Yanez says. “I remember hearing vaguely of [the fan], seeing it in a local newspaper. That might have been lore or something that happened late at night, but that house was sealed off immediately. They couldn’t get to those steps if they wanted to.”

Gianni Versace’s final outfit
“At the time, we didn’t say, ‘Oh, he was wearing his own design,’” Yanez says about the image of Versace on the operating table, his black T-shirt — emblazoned with his line’s signature Medusa logo — being cut up the middle. (Actor Édgar Ramírez is also outfitted in white shorts for the scene.) Versace, however, is documented as having worn a white tee and black shorts that morning. Adds Yanez, “I don’t think he was wearing his brand.”

The Assassination of Gianni Versace: Fact-checking the Season Premiere

American Crime Story’s Season Opener Beautifully Mines the Tension of Knowing What’s Coming

Rating: 8.9

A man in flowing pajamas ambles through an obscenely opulent villa, murmuring thanks to the silent servant waiting to hand him his orange juice. Nearby, on the beach, another man restlessly unpacks and repacks a backpack containing a biography and a gun.

The first man has breakfast on a patio inlaid with a faux-ancient mosaic of Medusa’s head. The other man vomits in a public restroom whose cubicle wall is etched with a crude drawing of two penises and an exclamation about “faggots.” In a few minutes, fashion designer Gianni Versace (Edgar Ramirez) will be shot twice in the head on the steps of his mansion and Andrew Cunanan (Darren Criss) will be giggling hysterically in the driver’s seat of a parked truck.

Miami Beach, July 1997.

It’s a weird kind of tension, when a director spools out minute after minute of lead-up to something we already know will happen because we remember that it happened. (In case we didn’t remember it, it’s the title of the show.) The pre-credit sequence of The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story is wall-to-wall opulence, in its color saturation, its swelling music, its luxuriant pacing. The tension of knowing what’s coming is sometimes even worse than the tension of not being sure.

Once Versace is shot, the show starts going forward, into the investigation, but more significantly, backward, taking us to a 1990 episode in which Cunanan meets Versace in a gay nightclub and manages to score an invitation to the San Francisco Opera, where Versace is pulling a costume design stint. It’s immediately clear that Cunanan is a DSM-worthy example of a sociopath; even his handful of friends seem to get that he’s a pathological liar. Cunanan meets Versace after the performance, they drink Champagne, and Versace possibly ensures his own future demise by assuring Cunanan he will almost certainly “be important one day.”

Meanwhile, in 1997, the police show up and question Versace’s partner, Antonio (Ricky Martin). They seem very hung up on the fact that “other men” were invited home with the couple. It’s confusing, this “gay lifestyle” thing, apparently even in Miami Beach three years from the turn of the millennium. Were they all his “partner”? No? What’s the difference?

“Fifteen years,” Antonio says incredulously, still wearing blood-stained tennis whites, “I lived with Gianni 15 years. That’s the difference.”

The detective concedes that 15 years is a significant amount of time. Somehow they’re not running a particularly effective investigation, though. The FBI shows up, saying they suspect Cunanan. A pawn shop operator (Cathy Moriarty) calls the police to say she’d turned in paperwork days ago from a transaction with Cunanan, and gives them an address.

Versace’s sister, Donatella (Penelope Cruz), shows up, cancels the company’s public offering on the New York Stock Exchange and says they have to keep things in the family because strangers will “judge the killer, but they will also judge the victim.” She rakes poor Antonio over the coals a few times for good measure.

Police storm the address they’ve gotten from the pawn shop, but the man in the seedy hotel room isn’t Cunanan. They’ve lost him.

The Assassination of Gianni Versace is, in its opening episode, richly detailed and quite subtle. I don’t love Cruz as Donatella Versace—was Lady Gaga busy?—but then again, the real Donatella creeps me out, too. Criss, Ramirez and Martin are remarkably good, though. The episode brims with strange tensions, between wealth and non-wealth, status and non-status, and between straight and gay cultures. The 1990 scenes are tinted by the AIDS crisis in a way that feels very authentic and not at all ham-fisted. The spooling out of backstory is occasionally imperfect (usually in expository monologues, not generally in real-time scenes). The 1997 scenes have a real-feeling paparazzi-prurience, evoking our often morbid obsession with celebrity and our often subverted fear of Other-ness. (In one horrible moment, a chubby tourist breaches the police line to soak a Versace magazine ad in the blood still pooled on the steps of the villa.) The time-hopping will, I expect, continue, showing us visions of how both men, killer and killed, became who they were.

We appear to be setting up for a beautifully filmed, opulently styled investigation of self-acceptance, self-loathing, rage and unfulfilled desire. When I Googled Gianni Versace to make sure I had his death date correct, this quote floated up at me: “I am not interested in the past, except as a road to the future.”

I think it’s safe to say we’re going to be on a season-long road to the future.

American Crime Story’s Season Opener Beautifully Mines the Tension of Knowing What’s Coming

The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story, episode 1 review: a gossipy, killer slice of docudrama

★★★★☆

An aura of decadent fabulousness lingers over The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story. The tragic fashion designer is introduced gliding about in a blinding pink dressing gown in his Versailles-like Miami palace – a riot of stucco and sunshine over which director and show-runner Ryan Murphy overlays sonorous opera.

As if inspired by one of Versace’s swirling creations, Murphy wastes no time ratcheting up the overkill to a clanging crescendo in FX’s true crime follow up to 2016’s The People Vs. OJ Simpson.

Gunned down on his doorstep by the psychotic fabulist Andrew Cunanan (Glee’s Darren Criss), Gianni Versace bleeds to death alongside a bloodied dove similarly, if inexplicably, pierced by a bullet.

Storming on three quarters of the way in as Donatella Versace – Gianni’s beloved sister and heir –  Penélope Cruz adds to the excess with a performance as filthily ridiculous as her dirty blonde wig.  The most delicious aspect of the series, however, is its element of surprise.

Versace (Édgar Ramírez – whose performance is, weirdly, the most sober here) was a global fashion figure when cut down in July 1997 yet the details of his killing are not widely known.

That’s in contrast to the OJ Simpson case, so embedded in our memories that watching Murphy recreate the events two years ago felt like participating in a game of true crime bingo. The Ford Bronco chase, the misogynistic humbling of Marcia Clark, Johnnie Cochran’s “if glove don’t fit” speech – all were dutifully trotted out, each beat as predictable as the chorus in a Justin Bieber song.

Season two, by contrast, packs a gilded punch. The first episode bounces between the slaying of Versace to his first encounter, in a San Fransisco gay club, with Cunanan. The future killer is a Walter Mitty-like social climber whose life is wallpapered with so many habitual lies it’s unclear whether even he knows truth from fiction. Preppy of manner and soulless of gaze, he gives Murphy something the Simpson case lacked – an unambiguous villain scary even when he isn’t shooting dead international fashion designers.

As Donatella, Cruz meanwhile cuts a furious swathe. She trowels on the accent and affectations quite gleefully: a little thrill is sure to run through you every time she flutters her reptilian eye-lids or pronounces “company” as “kuuumpany” (perhaps unsurprisingly the Versace family have dismissed the series as fantasy).

Even more impressive is pop star Ricky Martin as Gianni’s devastated romantic partner Antonio D’Amico. It’s 1997 in Miami but gay rights are still an evolving concept as made clear when Detective Scrimshaw (Will Chase) casually asks the grieving D’Amico whether, after 15 years together, Versace was paying his lover for services rendered in the bedroom.

Amid the towering chintz and power-house performances, there’s a slight clumsiness to the interweaving of the murder hunt with wrangling over the future of the Versace empire (Donatella wants to delay plans to float the “kuuumpany” on the stock exchange). But the bare facts of the case are so intriguing, the evocation of Nineties Miami so searing, as to paper over the structural clunkiness.

With American Crime Story season two, Murphy has served up another killer slice of documudrama – a lush, gossipy tour de force that dazzles and tantalises in equal measure.

The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story, episode 1 review: a gossipy, killer slice of docudrama

American Crime Story: Versace Is Pure Miami, Whether You Like It or Not

Murphy understands that Miami is as gaudy, gay, and greedy as the characters he’s put onscreen. Yes, we certainly have more depth than that (as numerous films, from the Oscar-winning Moonlight to Borscht Corp’s award-winning shorts, have shown). But the surface-level charm is prevalent, often hiding that depth from outsiders. In Versace, Murphy leans deeply into the façade.

Still, Versace, like Miami, seems to promise more than surface-level charms. It’s not just the gorgeous visuals or Penélope Cruz playing Donatella Versace without attempting to hide her Spanish accent. It’s not just Édgar Ramírez working on beautiful Versace costumes for an opera or having his shirt logo sliced open on a hospital table in the most heavy-handed death scene ever. And it’s not just Ricky Martin as Antonio D’Amico wailing for an ambulance while holding his dying lover as though they were Michelangelo’s Pietà. Versace writer Tom Rob Smith has used Maureen Orth’s book Vulgar Favors: Andrew Cunanan, Gianni Versace, and the Largest Failed Manhunt in U. S. History as a jumping-off point to create a portrait of this place that’s as loving and as critical as it should be.

The beauty of the pilot episode is in the details, its slow but smart establishing of the period we’re entering. This is the queer ‘90s: There’s sex, nightlife, and drugs. There’s also an AIDS epidemic that people still had no real clue how to deal with. It’s implied in scenes showing Versace pulling up his robe to reveal a lesion and taking medication that he was dealing with AIDS. That unease buzzes beneath scenes in which a police officer can barely communicate with D’Amico during questioning because he can’t grasp the concept of two men dating, much less two men in an open relationship. It’s in the word “faggot” written on a public beach bathroom wall.

With the episode “The Man Who Would Be Vogue,” American Crime Story delivers a promising premiere, one that announces an unashamed exploration of what it meant to be gay in the 1990s, even if it’s told partially through the lens of a sociopath who murdered at least five people during that period. We can only hope the rest of the series is as exciting as the first episode.

American Crime Story: Versace Is Pure Miami, Whether You Like It or Not