Fans of true crime drama series The Assassination of Gianni Versace – American Crime Story have made the show BBC iPlayer’s most popular programme in March.
The first episode of the hit US drama, starring Penelope Cruz, Ricky Martin and Darren Criss, saw 1.6 million requests to take the top spot in March, in a month that proved a big one for drama.
[…] BBC iPlayer’s most popular episodes in March are:
Dan McGolpin, controller of programming and daytime for the BBC, says: “Drama continues to have an extraordinary year on BBC iPlayer. Building on a brilliant January and February, this month drama fans were treated to captivating US drama like The Assassination of Gianni Versace as well as world-class British programmes like Collateral, Strike and the ever-brilliant Call the Midwife. And after the short month in Feb the stats are back to the great performance we saw over Christmas and New Year, with our best March ever and our third best month on record, making for our strongest first quarter ever.”
The first episode of The Assassination of Gianni Versace soon comes to the matter of Versace’s (Edgar Ramírez) death and following it, the question of Andrew Cunanan’s (Darren Criss) motives . We jump back and forth from that event to Andrew ‘s prior encounter with the fashion mogul, taking place five years earlier in San Francisco. Versace ends up asking Andrew to attend an opera Versace himself is costuming. During this time with Versace at the opera house, Andrew tells the designer that he is writing a novel, inspired by his own ‘crazy’ family — Andrew wants to be seen by Versace as a creator, as ‘worthy’. Earlier, in another scene, we see the young man with a dozen or more magazines laid out on the floor, absorbing them all. We are to take from this Andrew has been studying his mark — getting to know Versace before he knows him. Andrew is supremely, preternaturally skilled at seeing inside of those around him, knowing what to appeal to and how to do it. It is akin to watching a predator stalking prey, whilst they remain completely unaware of the danger they are in. The opera that brings to two together is Andrew Strauss’s ‘Capriccio’, the word meaning, ‘a painting or other work of art representing a fantasy or a mixture of real and imaginary features.’ The part shown is the overture, the capstone to the last opera Strauss composed before his death.
During the overture, Andrew shows true emotion (meaning it is occurs naturally, rather than a manufactured facet of who Andrew is at the time), crying openly and struggling to control himself. Capriccio is staged as an opera within an opera, a story within a story. We will see the stories within this huge opera and tragic spectacle of Versace’s death, just as with the O.J. Simpson trial and attendant show by the same creators. One of the final scenes of the opera sees a Countess — torn between two men — asking her own reflection in the mirror, “Is there anything that isn’t trivial?” Truly asking, ‘Does anything really matter?’ It is a question Andrew will have to ask himself, once his artificial selves fall away, leaving him alone to confront himself. What has this life of grandiose lies and deceit left him with, who is he really?
The first five minutes of episode one spends time juxtaposing Andrew Cunanan and Gianni Versace. Versace is a man who has everything: a house emblazoned and adorned with his own creations, with staff and a partner and people around him. Everyone recognises him on the street, he has friends — he has a life. Andrew Cunanan is an isolated figure on a huge beach, ill, coming apart; he has no one and nothing. As we come to see, everything about him is a falsehood, a concoction and a lie. He is a different person for every audience. He has no trouble, admitting this to a friend ( or rather, someone who believes himself to be Andrew’s friend); he only tells people what they need to hear. What he doesn’t say — the truthful heart of the matter — is that he lies to get what he wants from people: respect, recognition, and to satisfy more material needs. The crux is that Andrew doesn’t see them as lies, because he truly is becoming another person. To him, there is the exterior person and if they are standing before you, they must exist, ergo, it is not a lie. This is not to say that Andrew is absolved morally of his outrageous, manipulative lies, it is more to show that he could easily lose himself amid the myriad personalities he creates for himself. Then, after the inevitable collapse of so much fiction, all Andrew is left with is his real self.
The Assassination of Gianni Versace could be said, in large part, to be looking at who Andrew really is. Is he simply a serial killer, deprived of empathy by nature? A conman who has lost himself somewhere inside the stories and personalities of his own creation? Or, is he someone looking for something that he himself doesn’t understand? The truth may be lying somewhere scattered among all of these questions. During their talk at the opera house, Versace says he hopes people will get to know him by wearing his clothes, to understand him. He tells Andrew ‘People will get to know you a little bit when they read your book,’. This is one of the linchpin lines of the episode. It is telling us explicitly that we are engaged in a study of Andrew, that we might “get to know him a little bit”. Except it is not a book that Andrew authors, but something terrible. A character like Andrew — a person like Andrew Cunanan, whose motives and actions remain opaque to this day — can seem to us like an inscrutable cipher. Their actions are so reprehensible as to make understanding them seem impossible, and to attempt to do so repugnant to our sensibilities. Yet, we still try to do it, and The Assassination of Gianni Versace is another attempt to deconstruct something huge and to find its essence — to find out why.
All of this goes alongside themes of salacious mass media and celebrity culture. One grisly example shows a young man witness to the stricken Versace sprint to his car to retrieve a camera, eager to take a snap of the mortally wounded man. He then stands before assembled media crews, and starts an impromptu auction in the street, mere feet from the crime scene. Another scene sees previously-denied Versace autograph hunters press a Versace magazine Ad into Gianni’s pooled blood. Then, there were the global headlines announcing the fashion giant’s death, the reports and rumours about his private life, his health and potential pre-connection to his eventual killer.
The other main plank of the episode pertains to the control of Versace’s legacy — business and personal. His sister – Donatella (Penolope Cruz) and brother Santo (Giovanni Cirfiera) — arrive to exert control over what the public and police find out about their brother. The victim of this is Verace’s long term boyfriend, Antonio (Ricky Martin). He has to face blundering, cold inquiries from a detective, who asks whether Antonio was paid for his relationship with Versace. He faces questions, asked in an offhand manner, that no wife or girlfriend would have to answer. Antonio is forced justify his relationship with Versace — 15 years long — hours after the death of his partner, still covered in his blood. Donatella treats Antonio no better, telling him he is to speak to no one without consulting her first. She shows no care for him in their shared time of grief, viewing him only as a potential embarrassment which must be suppressed.
Matters then immediately turn to business and image. Donatella tells assembled lawyers that they (the press, the public) “judge the killer, yes, but they’ll judge the victim too. First, people weep, then they whisper.’ This is another key line in the episode, summing up the maelstrom of lurid tabloid headlines that followed Versace’s death. Donatella makes it clear that she views the perceived abasement of Versace’s image as akin to killing him twice. Donatella sees herself and assumes the mantle of a bulwark, taking her brother’s empire onto her shoulders. She rejects the forthcoming public offering Versace had arranged for his company, stressing the need to keep it in the hands of family, not strangers.
The episode ends with Andrew, strolling along the Miami beachfront, Versace sunglasses covering his eyes. He views racks of newspapers all bearing the news of Versace’s death, buying a clutch for himself. Andrew smiles as he takes it all in– he has created this. Something he has done created worldwide news, and recognition is finally his. It brings us back to the title of the episode, The Man Who Would be Vogue. This could be seen to be a double-edged play on the title of a book Andrew carries with him. We see him pull a copy out of his bag, alongside his gun. ‘he Man Who Was Vogue is a book about Conde Naste, a publishing magnate who found his fortune and establishing fame with the purchase of Vogue magazine in 1916. Over time, Naste positioned the magazine as a repository for style and elan, making it a byword for the new and the visionary. Andrew, through his actions, becomes a kind of monstrous vogue; his ‘work’ on the cover of every highbrow and lowbrow newspaper, tabloid and magazine. He is wanted nationwide, pursued by the police and FBI. He has finally found a way to create something fame-worthy, via the destruction of others.
The Assassination of Gianni Versace Spotify playlist | updated to the finale and includes the official soundtrack
Adagio in G Minor • Last Night a D.J. Saved My Life • All Around the World • Capriccio, Op.85 – Letzte Szene: “Kein andres, das mir im Herzen so loht” • Andrew on the Run • Bellini: I Capuleti e i Montecchi, Act 1: “Oh! quante volte” (Giulietta) • Donatella • Autopsy • All of Them • Gloria • Easy Lover • Back to Life (However Do You Want Me) • You Showed Me • Sposa son disprezzata • I’ve Done Nothing • Idea to Kill • A Little Bit of Ecstasy • Be My Lover • This Is the Right Time • A Certain Sadness • It’s Magic • St. Thomas • Are You Mad? • Pump Up The Jam • Drive • David Murdered • Tick Tock Polka • Attempted Suicide • Fascinated • Sensitivity • I’m Afraid • Interviews • Self Control • Balcony Reception • Get to Know Me • Freedom! ‘90 – Remastered • Sérénade mélancolique, Op. 26 • Runaway • Donatella’s Spotlight • String Quartet No. 13 in A Minor, Op. 29, D. 804: I. Allegro ma non troppo • Anachronism • Come Giuda • This Is Not for You • Raise the Flag • Hazy Shade of Winter • Touch Me (I Want Your Body) • Whip it • Blue Monday • Modesto on the Run • Vienna • Houseboat • Sailboat Break-In • Calling Modesto • The Man I Love • Nothing Like You • Basilica • Psalm 23: The Lord Is My Shepherd • Person of Interest • Surrounded • Another Stage • Hunt Is Over
*We couldn’t figure out which scenes the tracks “I’m Afraid” and “Nothing Like You” are from and simply put them in order of the soundtrack list. If you have any idea, please drop a line!
The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story Cast – Darren Criss, Edgar Ramirez, Ricky Martin, Penelope Cruz Rating – 4/5
In 1990, the future Oscar-nominated filmmaker, Richard Linklater, directed Slacker, a film whose impact is still felt to this day, even if the actual number of people who’ve seen it remains as low as ever. It was his attempt to capture the free-flowing nature of campus life in his hometown, Austin – a small film made on a shoestring budget in which characters would meet other characters, and in that typical manner for which Linklater would later become known, talk about every topic under the bright Texan sun.
As an audience member, Linklater said that he had always wondered what happened to the supporting characters in movies – the shopkeepers and the cab drivers who’d briefly interrupt the protagonist’s larger story. Where did those people come from? What were their hopes and dreams? What did their lives amount to? It was with these questions in mind that Linklater made Slacker, a movie that has no protagonist, and abandons characters the moment new ones pop up, switching the direction in which the story – if there was a story at all – was headed and subverting everything you thought you knew about narrative storytelling.
You wouldn’t normally invoke an early ‘90s indie film about aimless kids while talking about The Assassination of Gianni Versace, the second season of the terribly entertaining American Crime Story true-crime anthology series – but as strange as it may sound, that’s the one movie that sprang to mind. And there are several reasons for this, reasons that go beyond the simple stylistic similarities Versace and Slacker share – the constant switching focus of the plot, the backwards narrative, the subversion of expectations.
The first season, which was an addictive retelling of a modern American folktale – the trial of OJ Simpson – was a gloriously flamboyant piece of entertainment, capable of moments of starling insight in between scenes shot with swooping cameras and punctuated by bombastic speeches. There was a deliberate tone to the way in which creator Ryan Murphy tackled the story. It was only natural to expect more of the same in The Assassination of Gianni Versace, which is based on a true-life incident arguably more scandalous than OJ’s trial.
It begins with the seemingly impromptu murder of the Gianni Versace outside his sprawling and characteristically tacky Miami mansion. We watch as the famed designer wakes up in a bedroom fit for a European aristocrat, as he dresses himself in immaculate clothing and ambles through the hallways of his home, like a lion surveying his kingdom. His hand grazes the ornate sculptures of naked men that he has stationed like guards outside a Roman chieftains’ quarters. He touches these trophies, both real and inanimate. Finally, his rests his hands on his partner, who stands silently by his side throughout the show’s nine episodes, like he owns him. He probably does.
After eating breakfast in his courtyard, tiled with the Versace logo, he ventures outside, into the real world, where the rest of us live – the people who idolise him and dream of wearing his clothes one day. And that is where he gets shot in the face by Andrew Cunanan. But The Assassination of Gianni Versace isn’t about the designer’s rise to fame and it isn’t about his secret life as a homosexual man. Nor is it about his rumoured battle with HIV and the faith he showed in his sister, Donatella, when he learnt that he didn’t have much time to live. It could easily have been about any one of these things and as fans of Season 1, we would’ve have hungrily accepted it, and probably enjoyed it, considering how undemanding we’ve become.
But then, if it were about these stories, which are admittedly intriguing, that would rob us of the opportunity of bringing up Slacker, wouldn’t it? Because it will only take Versace one episode to upend every expectation you might have – certainly every expectation I certainly had was discarded with the swiftness of last season’s fall/winter collection.
When Versace fell to his death in slow motion, outside the palace he’d built for himself, with Ricky Martin crying over his limp body, I fully expected to be transported to a flashback of the young Gianni, growing up in Italy with the driven yet under-confident Donatella. But that would have been too easy. Instead of profiling the fashion icon and peeling back the layers of secrecy with which he lived his life – quite like what Murphy and his team of excellent writers did in Season 1 – the show turns its focus on Cunanan, and traces his unsettling journey to the moment he pulled the trigger in front of Versace’s mansion.
And as a portrait of a serial killer, The Assassination of Gianni Versace couldn’t have been more captivating. Remember, it has only been months since we saw Mindhunter, David Fincher’s brilliant Netflix show about the birth of serial killers, but while they’re both essentially about the same thing – understanding, or at least trying to understand the psyche of a mass murderer – they couldn’t have been more distinct. Both shows are, however, the products of very singular visions – and God knows Ryan Murphy is, for the lack of a better word, brighter in his world view. This time, though, he is slightly overshadowed by Tom Rob Smith, who has written every episode of the season. There is a tonal uniformity that this process brings to television, and we’ve seen it work several times in the recent past, most notably in True Detective.
And as terrific as the storytelling choices are in this show – we revisit Cunanan’s murders in reverse, meeting his future victims after we’ve already seen them being bludgeoned or hacked or shot – it’s the three main performances that elevate it. Edgar Ramirez (who plays Gianni Versace) and Penelope Cruz (a suitably dusky, pre-surgery Donatella) might not be as central to the proceedings as one might have initially anticipated, but they’re the pool of subtlety that is essential to the tornado that Murphy’s programmes sometimes have the tendency of becoming.
But this is Darren Criss’ show. As Andrew Cunanan, he is a petulant child in certain scenes – when he is demanding rich white men to become his sugar daddies and lashing out at his single mother, scarred by the man who broke them – and in others, he is a terrifying monster – incapable of decency, surviving only to destroy others. With this show, he has become a star.
The Assassination of Gianni Versace has more in common with the films of David Fincher than it has with its own predecessor, but isn’t it refreshing when a programme doesn’t need to reinvent the wheel, but comes up with not one, but several new versions?
By common consent, including Bafta’s, The People v. O.J. Simpson: American Crime Story was one of the best TV dramas of 2016. Produced by Ryan Murphy, it laid out the story in a beautifully clear, largely chronological way that made us appreciate, all over again, just how strange the whole O.J. business was — not least thanks to the wider social forces at work. Now, we’ve got The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story (BBC2, Wednesday), also produced by Ryan Murphy and also tackling an event from the 1990s that manages to seem both shockingly particular and neatly revealing of more general trends.
At which point, all similarities end, because here Murphy (who also directed the first episode) takes a far more fragmented and less viewer-friendly approach. The show hops backwards and forwards in time, showing us scenes and several unnamed minor characters that are yet to be linked, and for quite long stretches it appears perfectly content to leave us somewhere between intrigued and baffled.
Last week’s first episode, for example, began with a long, pre-credits sequence that intercut scenes of Versace’s highly agreeable life in his (literally) gilded Miami Beach villa with regular sightings of a handsome young man beside the ocean, alternately reading a history of Vogue and fondling a gun. The man then headed to the villa, saw Versace returning from a morning stroll and shot him dead. The sequence certainly established the programme’s ability to blend sumptuous visuals with the slow cranking-up of something very sinister indeed. But it also demonstrated an equally characteristic willingness to be deliberately enigmatic about what on earth was going on — and, more specifically, why.
Two episodes on, and we’re not much the wiser. We do know that the killer, Andrew Cunanan, had already murdered four men when he arrived in Miami Beach a few weeks before Versace’s death in July 1997. Yet, the details of his background, crimes and motives still remain distinctly mysterious. Admittedly, Cunanan was a fantasist, a compulsive liar or both, telling different people different stories wherever he went. Nonetheless, the drama could presumably have set at least some of the record straight by now. So why hasn’t it? The reason, I’d suggest, is a pretty good one: to make us realise that, when it comes to a man as weirdly malevolent as this, being somewhere between intrigued and baffled is an entirely justified response.
Meanwhile, the snapshots of Cunanan’s past also served as snapshots of gay life in the late 1990s, a time when a treatment for Aids had finally been found, and when, it seems, the obvious sense of relief was combined with a feeling of mild incredulity, as people slowly recovered from a collective trauma. For their part, Versace and his partner Antonio were faced — perhaps not uniquely — with the choice of whether to throw themselves cheerfully into their old promiscuous ways or to opt for cosy monogamy.
Despite the strength of the individual scenes, Darren Criss’s fantastically unsettling performance as Cunanan and an impressive supporting cast — including Penelope Cruz as Versace’s sister Donatella and Ricky Martin as Antonio — it’s clear that for viewers of The Assassination of Gianni Versace a certain degree of patience will be required. Luckily, those very same things also give us enough confidence in the show to believe that our patience will ultimately be rewarded.
Pick of the Week: The Assassination of Gianni Versace – American Crime Story
If you thought The People v OJ Simpson was a one-off hit, prepare to be stylishly corrected. Ryan Murphy (king of anthologising such shows as American Horror Story) has done it again with this new true crime drama, which tells the events of The Assassination of Gianni Versace. We’re slickly sashayed back to 1997, when the pink dressing gown-wearing fashion designer was gunned down in Miami. It was a murder that happened at the height of gaudy fame and sunbathed glitz, and Murphy’s series gorgeously wallows in the vibrance of it all, filling the frame with vivid colours, delicious costumes and super-slick camera moves. There’s no mystery, of course, as to who the assassin was: that’s Andrew Cunanan, played by Glee’s Darren Criss with a magnetic presence – almost as if he’s staking claim to the screen before Penelope Cruz can walk on set and try to steal it as Versace’s sister, Donatella. Between the two, Edgar Ramirez is almost understated as Gianni, as we fly back to see the first meeting between him and his eventual killer in a nightclub. It’s an electrifying encounter, one made more so by Criss’ compelling portrayal of a man who can’t seem to stop lying, almost as if he’s read The Talented Mr. Ripley one too many times (or just pretended to). This is flashy crime drama at its most soap operatic, and when it’s this well done, it’s hard not to get sucked into its whirlwind of fame, greed, jealousy and Ricky Martin. Welcome back, American Crime Story. This is killer telly.
Before I fully return to sighing strings composed directly for the screen, let me make mention of two more examples from the classical concert repertoire to grace cinemas. The “Adagio in G Minor for Strings and Organ” by Remo Giazotto would be an example to rival’s Barber’s in public consciousness – so famously used in “Gallipoli” and other movies that some complained of overuse when it was recently prominently featured in “Manchester by the Sea”. The problem is that in addition to plenty of mournfully sighing strings there’s also that peskily prominent organ. That should disqualify it from this discussion, except a convenient loophole arrives in the form of a special arrangement of the Adagio scored for the limited TV series “American Crime Story: Versace”. The organ is removed, leaving a pure string ensemble arrangement, with sobbing solo violin taking the organ’s place:
ACS news 