Tag: april 2018

We need to talk about Darren Criss’s killer performance in The Assassination of Gianni Versace

There’s a bravura moment in The Assassination of Gianni Versace – American Crime Story when murderer Andrew Cunanan, resplendent in a red PVC jumpsuit, dances wildly on his own in front of a group of bemused partygoers.

It’s not quite up there with Cunanan dancing in only a tiny pair of orange pants to Philip Bailey and Phil Collins’s Easy Lover as one of his pick-ups, a closeted gay elderly gentlemen, writhes in terror, his face a mask of gaffer tape. But it’s close.

If you haven’t seen The Assassination of Gianni Versace yet, then please, run directly to iPlayer with your arms outstretched and feast on any episodes that remain there. It’s brilliantly written by British screenwriter Tom Rob Smith (who also wrote one of my all-time favourites, BBC2’s London Spy, in 2015) and has an astounding central performance from Darren Criss as Cunanan.

I’d never heard of Criss (he was in Glee, which passed me by) but as Cunanan, he delivers the performance of a lifetime. (Cunanan murdered fashion designer Gianni Versace in July 1997, the culmination of a serial killing spree that left five men dead. Cunanan later killed himself as police closed in.)

What Rob Smith and Criss have done is make a whole person, someone who exists outside of those few bare details. Versace hardly appears in the series, which belongs almost entirely to Cunanan/Criss, as we witness a damaged life spin slowly, then quickly, then completely, out of control.

Cunanan seems at first the quietest of whirlwinds, a handsome boy who drips with charm and affability. But – and this is what Criss and Rob Smith are so good at conveying – there’s something a bit off, something not quite right you can’t put your finger on. Like a photo that’s a little out of focus. And then the killing starts. Brutal, swift, out of nowhere. Yet you’ve been expecting it all along, and not just because this is an infamous story. It’s because Criss’s Cunanan trembles with murderous fury, even when he smiles. Particularly when he smiles.

Rob Smith, who is so adept at digging into the dark mud of broken lives, cleverly throws out any accepted version of narrative to play around with the timeline, and with Cunanan’s descent.

So it’s only in this week’s eighth, penultimate, episode that we learn of his twisted childhood as the “special” son of a narcissistic, fraudulent, abusive liar of a father and a fragile, emotionally vulnerable mother.

Criss’s Cunanan is terrifying. Good-looking, personable, but you don’t want him around. There was a point in one episode, when he rang the doorbell of the man who would become his next victim, when I shouted, “Don’t answer the door, don’t let him in!”

Despite all of those very generous outward charms, you know straightaway why people around him find him unsettling to be with and uncomfortable to know. He’s obsessive and forces his way into “friendships” with unwilling men who just wish he’d go away. Or he preys on older gay men who’ve never been able to come out.

Of course, none of this is easy to watch, which is just as it should be. Cunanan’s story was inescapably one of obsession and violence. But as a cautionary tale about someone who wants above all else to be famous, it’s very, horribly, modern.

We need to talk about Darren Criss’s killer performance in The Assassination of Gianni Versace

Two of this year’s most enjoyable TV shows are about gay serial killers

Somewhere in the middle of early 2018’s television season, a thought struck me: Two of the shows I’ve most enjoyed are about gay serial killers.

Then came the onslaught of questions. What does this say about me? What does this say about these shows? Are they, to use the well-worn but apt word, problematic?

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

The shows in question are American Crime Story (ACS): The Assassination of Gianni Versace on FX and The Alienist on TNT.

The first is based on real-life events and follows the first season of Ryan Murphy’s wildly successful series, The People v. O.J. Simpson. It stars the likes of Darren Criss, Penelope Cruz, and Ricky Martin.

The second, meanwhile, is a period piece based on the fiction novel of the same name by Caleb Carr. This series stars Luke Evans, Daniel Brühl, and Dakota Fanning.

Examining gay serial killers

The shows are very different, but in their common thread, men who kill and disrupt the LGBTQ community, albeit in different times and ways, there is something fascinating at work. And potentially alarming, given the very real, alleged gay serial killer who recently put Toronto through heartbreaking trauma.

Set primarily in the 1990s, ACS examines the serial killer Andrew Cunan (Criss) who claimed Italian fashion designer Gianni Versace (Édgar Ramírez) as his fifth and final victim in 1997.

As series, Murphy paints ACS with deliberate and analytical strokes. It is a show whose every decision, every beat is carefully thought about and completed. While emotions run deep in each episode, supported by phenomenal performances from its entire cast, there is something eerie and cold about it as well.

The Alienist is a messier series, but one that is just as emotional. It’s character-driven, as opposed to adhering strictly to its plot.

It takes place in mid-1890s New York City and follows a small group hunting down a serial killer plaguing the city. While the killer himself may not be gay, he targets young and teen boys who dress as girls and prostitute themselves to men, largely due to forced circumstances.

This series looks less at the commentaries of gender and sexuality, and cares more about what it means to kill. Brühl’s character, Kreizler, is an alienist, an archaic term for a psychiatrist or psychologist. Inter-personal relationships, prejudice, and classism are all explored in the show. It cares more about its narrative and characters, up against the all-at-once grimy and decadent backdrop of New York City.

Both series care about their tones and aesthetic. They are committed to them. They do, however, beg questions of representation and whether or not it should be good or bad.

Enjoying problematic things

Developing a TV show about a gay serial killer in and of itself is not wrong. After all, neither of these shows want you to root for the serial killers. While ACS gives a more fully-developed look at Cunan than the killer in the Alienist (done deliberately), their crimes are presented honestly and without sympathy.

And in the case of ACS, it tells a true story, one that cannot be erased from history.

The Alienist makes more mistakes than ACS, even if it is just following the book. Not only is it about the murder of children, some of whom are figuring out their gender expression and others forced into horrible situations out of desperation, but it makes other questionable choices, especially with characters of colors.

Yet despite these facts, both shows are immensely enjoyable.

But in a time where the Bury Your Gays trope is alive and well, and dangerous, should we be advocating for shows like these? After all, there’s a reason the benign nature and happy ending of Love, Simon is being discussed and lauded so much.

Does representation have to be positive for it to matter? Do these shows count as representation if some of the material is negative?

Navigating the maze

There’s typically a simple answer: It’s okay to enjoy problematic things, as long as you understand why they’re problematic.

But the guilt can be real. Week after week, my roommate and I planted ourselves on the couch for the new episode of The Alienist. We cooed and gushed over it, despite its subject matter — and knowing this very dark, real world.

Separating art from reality can be a difficult thing. Luckily with these two pieces, it is not a matter of the people behind the camera being controversial, making it difficult to support any work they do. While both killers in the two shows are in the wrong, wholly and completely, it is important to understand they exist in the world of their shows. It is not about the creators behind the camera harboring homophobic attitudes — which can, and has happened.

It is a matter, however, of acknowledging their subject matters, and the weariness of queer stories constantly being about struggles and horror and pain, and assessing how the products address them.

I’ll be the first to admit it: I’m tired of queer stories constantly being about prejudice or death or ostracization. For once, I want a romantic comedy with all the tropes of the classics, but with two queer leads. I don’t want the ar I constume to constantly remind me of a world that can be cruel. I see that in the news enough.

But I couldn’t help liking these shows. Maybe it was simply because they were well-made. Maybe some things, even if they are depressing, are worth it. The answer can be both of these and more. Though they occasionally made my stomach churn, and forced me to examine my own enjoyment of them, ultimately I simply had to accept that it is possible to feel a myriad of things for a piece of pop culture and not wade too deep into the murky waters.

Two of this year’s most enjoyable TV shows are about gay serial killers