The most recent episode of The Assassination of Gianni Versace begins to reveal bits and pieces of Andrew Cunanan’s twisted and broken state of mind as he starts to break down. The episode opens to Cunanan in a luxurious waterside mansion in sunny San Diego swimming naked in the pool. The timeline for this falls a year before he commits his first murder.
It is shocking to understand just how much Cunanan was able to accomplish in a short amount of time. In this flashback, he is pretending to be an art curator who lives with his wealthy, old client (sound familiar?).
The client/fling, Norman, is throwing Andrew a birthday party with all of his closest friends, including Lizzie, Jeffrey Trail, and the love of his love, David Madson. So for someone who seemed to have it all, what exactly pushed him to go on a murder spree? This is what this episode helps us understand.
Cunanan’s goal in life has always been to be something he’s not, and in a similar fashion, he attempts to craft Jeffrey in a more “presentable manner” for the party. He goes as far as personally wrapping a present and asking Jeff to regift to him at the party. This is the moment where his subtle urges to manipulate start to shine through–and perhaps the beginning of one insane journey.
Cunanan’s love interest, David Madson, flies in from Minneapolis to attend the party but appears to form a connection with Jeffrey. This puts Cunanan in a state of panic as he heads to the bathroom to snort a line of coke. This is strike one on the path to Cunanan losing it.
And if that isn’t enough to send Cunanan off the rails, one of Norman’s friends approaches him to exchange a few harsh words. He tells Andrew that he is protecting Norman and knows exactly what he is up to which sets something off inside of Cunanan. And while the party already had two of Andrew’s victims in attendance, the entrance of Lee Miglin added a third. Talk about awkward, right?
This illustrates yet another connection Cunanan had to one of his victims and helps the audience begin to piece together the road that led him down a murder spree.
Following the aftermath of his birthday party, Andrew sits down with Norman to go over a list of demands he has if they are to stay together as a couple. This moment seems quite odd seeing as how Cunanan needs Norman more than the other way around. Nonetheless, he begins to list off the need for a higher allowance, Norman’s entire inheritance, and a car.
Unfortunately for Andrew, Norman begins to attack him by revealing he knows exactly who Cunanan is. The truth hits Andrew like venom, as he begins to lash out. Despite Andrew being a basket case, Norman attempts to offer to help out in other ways but Andrew just won’t have it. He storms off after Norman refuses to follow the demands on his list.
Following his fight with Norman, Cunanan heads to the only place he can think of–his real home which is a small tiny apartment inclusive of one mattress and his dear mother. It is here where he begins to take revenge on Jeffrey, who he feels is trying to David away from him. Some episodes ago, we learned Andrew sent a postcard to Jeff’s house outing him as a gay man. In this episode, we see him committing the act of writing it.
Upon finding out, Jeffrey confronts Andrew and tells him he is moving to Minneapolis. The same place David Madson currently lives. Andrew perceives this as a threat and begins to court David into an all-expenses-paid trip to L.A. Even though David shows up for the trip, he ultimately ends up rejecting Andrew and his advances. He tells him he is not the one for Andrew and while Andrew requests he simply gets to know him. When Andrew begins to spin a web of intricate lies, David walks away once and for all.
It has been quite some time since we’ve seen Versace in an episode, but lo and behold he made an appearance in this one. However, it was in one of Andrew’s dreams where Versace is his tailor and tells him they are not the same because he is loved, unlike Andrew. And this is where things get crazy. In a meth-induced state, Andrew goes back to Norman’s house violently shouting to be let into the house as Norman calls the police. Andrew goes back, broken and defeated, to his mother’s house where he tells her his next destination is…Minneapolis.
I’m the type of person who gladly shuts the rest of the world off when I’m binge watching a new television show. Don’t even bother asking me to make plans when I start a new season or series: It’s almost guaranteed that I’ll be tucked into bed with the lights off, the dim glow of my laptop screen straining my eyes. The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story is my current obsession.
The latest from director Ryan Murphy, who has contributed to such projects as American Horror Story and Glee, Versace recounts the 1997 murder of famed fashion designer Gianni Versace (played by Édgar Ramírez). Darren Criss plays Andrew Cunanan, the jealous sociopath whose killing spree of affluent older men made international headlines.
The follow-up season to FX’s smash hit mini drama, The People v. O.J. Simpson, Versace packs the same nail biting drama and deception into a gorgeous pastel palette. The cinematography in Versace is unparalleled, with all the excess and color that one might expect from the story of the death of one of the biggest fashion designers in the world. Set in nineties Miami, some scenes make the sunlit beach feel like its spilling out into your living room.
But it isn’t just the beautiful scenes that make Versace so captivating — it’s the twisted elements as well. The series is jammed with moments that make you hold your breath, cover your eyes and form entirely new opinions about duct tape. As the plot thickens, Versace’s hyper realistic but simultaneously dream-like quality is what sets it apart from similar crime dramas.
The actors in Versace are a cut above and it’s refreshing to see a drama of this sort have such an ensemble cast. Ramírez’s Versace is a sensitive genius; clothing is his calling and absolute passion. The gay designer was a fixture on Miami Beach, openly walking the streets when he wasn’t swimming in his pool or playing tennis in his villa. Versace’s indisputable talent was often curtailed by his own quiet insecurity.
A bleach blonde Penelope Cruz plays Donatella Versace, the devoted sister. Cruz’s Donatella is the picture of grief and her performance is haunting. Cruz’s performance makes us admire the real Donatella’s strong desire to keep the brand alive following her brother’s murder and her accession to powerhouse status.
Ricky Martin’s performance as Antonio D’Amico, Gianni Versace’s lover, is similarly compelling. D’Amico and Donatella both had one thing in common: Gianni Versace. Aside from that, watching the two characters clash has been one of the most satisfying aspects of the show. Max Greenfield, more commonly known for his role as “Schmidt” on FOX’s New Girl, impressively embodies his role as Cunanan’s unwitting, cocaine-selling friend.
While Versace is the draw owing to his fame, Criss’s Cunanan is the centerpiece of the story; the pathetically insecure sociopath steals every scene he’s in. Criss slips into his character’s idiosyncrasies like a hand in glove, and each of his compulsive lies and sneaky tactics reveals the creeping sense of how depraved Cunanan must have been in life. Criss’s brilliant performance illuminates how the desire for opulence and excess can drive people to do unspeakable things.
Like the People v. O.J. Simpson, Versace addresses our society’s macabre obsession with murder, scandal and celebrity. The story of Versace and Cunanan, which jumps back and forth in time, carries an ominous, nail biting quality that often leaves the viewer with more questions than answers. Murphy, who also produced and wrote the show, has somehow managed to capture the hysteria of the case and the period feel in perfect form.
In a review of the television show written for Vogue, entitled “Miami Vice,” John Powers says “Murphy uses Versace’s murder to conjure the shadowy, bottled-up world of late-nineties America, in which Gianni and Antonio weren’t treated as a genuine couple (they couldn’t marry), respectably closeted husbands had furtive liaisons with young men, and law enforcement was so unsettled by ‘gay’ crimes, they botched the cases.”
I’m currently watching the series the old fashioned way (aka waiting patiently each week for the newest episode). Each episode leaves me shocked, confused and salivating for more of a tale that seems to get progressively more twisted with each new episode. All I know for sure is that murder never seemed so fashionable.
Clare: So is anyone getting sick of Mr Darren Criss appearing here as my top performer week after week? No I didn’t think so as he rightfully deserves the honour. And if you do, you’ll be pleased to know there are only three episodes of The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story left. “The House by the Lake” was touted as THE big Darren episode and yes he was absolutely brilliant in that, but this week’s ep “Descent” he just blew me away. Here you got to see so many different sides of Andrew Cunanan – the charmer, the manipulator, the one in control, the one who lost control, the manic, the dreamer. This was the episode that you could see two clear paths that Cunanan could have taken to achieve his dreams and basically fucked it all up. Immense kudos to Criss for consistently drawing us into Cunanan’s world in this series. And yes… the opening few minutes of the episode were just beautiful.
Emmy: Darren Criss was my choice for this week as he really outdid himself as Andrew Cunanan on Versace. We got to see every side of Cunanan’s crazy demeanor, and how far he would go to keep up the farce. Criss eats up this role with every episode but this week, we got to see a calmness to his insanity, and Criss’ performance was top-notch. Will also have to agree with Clare; that opening was glorious indeed.
Top Episode:
Clare: This is really tough and I think I need to split it between The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story’s “Descent” and The X-Files’ “Rm9sbG93ZXJz”. All the reasons I chose Darren Criss as the Top Performer are the reasons that “Descent” is listed here. Add in the stellar performances from absolutely everyone in this cast, the tight, interesting writing and the great direction and this is a show that hits it out of the park week after week after week. Seriously, if you haven’t watched an episode of this yet, you need to remedy that ASAP. You don’t want to miss the boat with only a few eps to go. Now The X-Files – what I loved about “Rm9sbG93ZXJz” was the quirkiness of it. They took an aspect of modern life – our reliance on AI – exaggerated all our greatest fears associated with it and added some X-Fileshumour to it. And it was all done with so little dialogue. It was compelling to watch and a lot of fun. The concept was great and I think it really worked well.
Quote of the week:
Clare:
Andrew: “He’s a house. He’s a home. He’s a yard and a family and picking kids up from school. He’s a future and up until now I’ve only dated the past.” Lizzie: “Who are you trying to be?” Andrew: “Someone he can love.” (The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story).
Emmy:
“I curate his art.” – Andrew Cunanan (The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story)
Episode 6 of “American Crime Story: Versace” picks up in California in 1996, a year before Andrew Cunanan’s murder spree began. Cunanan found himself in some kind of luxury abode, wrapping presents from Tiffany’s and toting bags from Saks Fifth Avenue. Some lines of cocaine are conspicuously apparent on a nearby table.
Cunanan obviously shacked up with some rich older man while “employed” as his “interior decorator.” He wonders aloud to a friend, Lizzie, about a certain blonde paramour, obviously referring to David Madson.
“Who are you trying to be?” asks Lizzie, unsure of what she’s witnessing.
Moments later Trail arrives at the party. Cunanan gifts Andrew some expensive clothes in the hopes of making him look more high class in front of his new crush. Cunanan instructs Trail to lie and say he’s still in the Navy. Trail refuses.
When Madson arrives, Andrew finds himself caught in a series of lies about having previously worked for Versace.
Meanwhile, the friends of Cunanan’s elderly patron show visible disdain for Cunanan, recognizing his gold-digging proclivities. Later, Lee Miglin approaches Cunanan to wish him a happy birthday. Cunanan pushes him aside and chastises him for addressing him in public.
Andrew and his future victims all pose for a picture together.
Later, Andrew’s patron confronts Cunanan (who had apparently been going by the name Andrew De Silva) about his birthday wish list (first class flights, a new car, to become sole inheritor of his fortune) and and his past. Cunanan had claimed that he was disowned by his wealthy parents for being gay and had a PhD. A private investigator had apparently determined Cunanan’s story about his own history to be completely fabricated. Nonetheless, Andrew’s patron attempts to get Andrew back to school, desperate to make a more amenable arrangement despite the deception. Andrew refuses to negotiate. He wants everything. He leaves, telling the older man that he expects a call in the future.
Andrew takes up residence somewhere with decidedly less class. Meanwhile, Trail’s father calls him to say he’s received a bizarre postcard signed “Love, Drew.” Trail assumes this is a tortuous blackmail attempt on the part of Cunanan. Trail confronts Cunanan and the argument turns physical before Trail admits he’s taken a job in Minneapolis. Cunanan’s paranoia perks up: he thinks Trail’s going there to pursue a relationship with David Madson. The next day, Andrew calls up Madson and offers him a trip to Los Angeles, all expenses paid. Madson, confused, does not know how to feel.
Cut to Madson meeting Cunanan in a luxurious mansion. Andrew continues to seduce David by buying him luxury suits and promising him future success — together, as a couple.
“Andrew, I’m not the one,” Madson tells Andrew over an obscenely lavish dinner.
“You are the only one I have ever really, truly loved,” replies Andrew.
Madson attempts to console Andrew, but only exacerbates the situation.
“We had a great time in San Francisco, one great night. And maybe there was a chance but … I get the feeling you don’t have many great nights with people. Am I right? So when you do it feels huge. It feels life changing,” says Madson.
Madson begs Andrew for the truth about his life. He spins another yarn about his wealthy parents, but Madson’s face shows he doesn’t believe a word about it.
“Your parents must have loved you very much,” Madson says through clenched teeth.
Later at a gay bar, Andrew’s on the hunt for a fix. He buys some crystal meth. In a drug-induced fantasy, he imagines Gianni Versace dressing him while bemoaning the selfishness of the world in the face of his unending generosity. The fantasy turns persecutory, with Cunanan imagining Versace as a kind of antagonist.
“We’re the same. The only difference is: you got lucky,” Andrew tells Versace.
He returns to the club for more drugs the next day. He doesn’t have enough money to pay the dealer. He goes back to his former patron’s mansion, begging to be let in. The police are called.
Andrew finds his mother in a shabby motel. She bathes him gently before declaring that his “smell” has changed. Something’s off about her: when Andrew admits he’s unhappy, she keeps chattering. She proclaims the world is meaningless without children. She doesn’t seem to understand that Andrew is gay, or is in emphatic, perhaps delusional denial about it.
“We always had so little, they always had so much,” she says, comparing herself to rival families growing up. She still believes Andrew to be the lies he tells: she thinks he works as a costume designer for operas.
Andrew tells her that he’s heading to Minneapolis.
“They have an opera house in Minneapolis?” asks his mother.
“No, Mom. I don’t think they do,” he responds. She kisses him goodbye.
Ryan Murphy has been using this season of American Crime Story to tell a nuanced story about the complexities of gay identity. Andrew’s web of lies may be seen as pathological parallel to the deception so many queer people must maintain to be considered respectable by society. But Andrew’s proclivities take him too far, and he overcompensates to make up for his very real deficits.
The illusory nature of wealth has always been a fascination of queer culture, from Oscar Wilde’s obsession with abundance to the ballroom scene’s fascination with opulence. In a society organized around the marginalization of sexual minorities, obtaining material success is seen as a spiteful rebellion (not so dissimilar from the rap world’s fascination with getting paper) against the forces that try to keep queers down. But Andrew’s obsession with wealth, forged by his mother’s jealousy of her adversaries, goes too far. The facade of happiness, which in the age of Instagram must be even more carefully maintained, falls apart so fast — especially for queer people, who are almost expected to fail.
Murphy appears to be using Cunanan’s tale as warning, and surely queer men will see something of themselves in not only Cunanan’s loneliness, but also his desires. But Murphy’s Cunanan is a sort of fun-house mirror, exaggerating the blemishes of queerness and turning them into something monstrous. Few sympathetic portraits of Cunanan have been made since his crime spree occurred, and although Murphy clearly shows his viciousness as an aberration, he also appears to be asking how different many gay men are from the notorious killer.
@philipnolan1: My TV column in today’s @IrishMailSunday. Under review – #HomeOfTheYear #WorldsMostExtraordinaryHomes #AmericanCrimeStory #OperationTransformation #100YearsYoungerIn21Days. Oh, and a tiny wish for @ciarakellydoc as she enters #TheRestaurant kitchen.
AMERICAN CRIME STORY Airs Wednesdays, 10/9c, FX Ever since Ryan Murphy incorporated Mark Ronson’s music into Nip/Tuck, I’ve been a fan of his soundtrack picks. And this season’s American Crime Story has some killer selections. Whether its Remo Giazotto’s heartbreaking “Adagio in G Minor for Violin Strings and Organ” playing over the major murder scene or Philip Bailey and Phil Collins’s “Easy Lover” pumping as Andrew Cunanan (Darren Criss) works his escort gig, each song is pitch-perfect. —Eric Andersson, Staff Editor
From the team behind last year’s The People v OJ Simpson, another enthralling slice of American murder. For those who thought (as did I) that it was a bit of a fuss in 1997 over a dead frock-jockey, the nine-part drama The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story will prove a surprisingly necessary corrective. We see, in the anguish of the fans, the power of fashion; and in their desperation to grab a slice of his death, the power of greed. We see another world: a Miami Beach villa of hazy light and splendours that would have shamed Greek gods, and of a jealous, bitter, fantasist serial killer. It’s sharp, mesmerising, and we’ve only just got into the Donatella story, with a wonderfully cast Penélope Cruz.
Ever since I saw the publicity stills for American Crime Story: The Assassination of Gianni Versace, my heart has been in my mouth. It wasn’t just the transformation of the gorgeous Penelope Cruz into the curious plastic blowfish that is Donatella Versace, snapped snout to dolphin snout with two oiled Versace codpieces. Or the uncanny resemblance of Edgar Ramirez to Versace himself, a fashion designer who always felt closer to a mid-level football manager than anyone would have liked. It was because this was the best I believed television could ever be: epic, ambitious, lavish, dark and slow.
I don’t mind admitting that a full nine episodes of beautifully directed zebra print is unlikely to get a bad review from me. Each frame is a tiny crime scene in itself: day diamonds, tight shorts, walnut-lined lavs, “crisis” leather wear and — worst of all — sunglasses at night.
There’s Ricky Martin, brilliantly cast as Versace’s boyfriend, dressed, ostensibly, in the same outfit as the staff. In one long opening shot in the first episode, Versace slips out of bed, eases out of his silky pink dressing gown, goes out to pick up some magazines, only to return to the steps of the mansion, where he’s shot dead. All I could think was: imagine dying in those hideous chino shorts.
As it is, neither Versace nor Donatella is anything to write home about. Ramirez is earnest, crooning, an extra from a terrible Californian wine advertisement. He confirms my long-held suspicion that fashion designers should never, ever say anything. (“My hope is that people will get to know me by wearing my clothes,” he lisps.) Frankly, it’s a relief when he’s shot.
And oh, darling Pene. You’d have thought that, not being able to do an English accent, let alone an Italian one, she might have refused wardrobe’s offer of a dental prosthetic to make her lips look bigger. But no. As Donatella might herself say: more eez more. Cruz, mouth duly stuffed, is incomprehensible. Every single word is swallowed by her fish lips.
By far the most interesting character is Versace’s killer, Andrew Cunanan (Darren Criss). It says everything about the tone of American Crime Story that a half-Filipino, half-Sicilian hustler-drifter who killed five men and spent eight days on the run before committing suicide is the hero of the piece. He’s 1990s handsome, impossibly characterless, like JFK Jr or Roger Federer. Arriving in South Beach, he is so wholesome and Seinfeldy, he looks as if he might poo — sorry, poop — marshmallows.
Criss, a former star of — joy — Glee, moves effortlessly from lost little rich boy to “predatory escort”. He describes looks from fashion shows with the same intensity as Patrick “American Psycho” Bateman talking music. He has the otterish sheen of a lifestyle criminal.
The series is from the same people who did The People v OJ Simpson, another sprawling autopsy from the 1990s, the decade crime stopped being crime and became — how shall I put it? — more an opt-in/opt-out entertainment choice. Both series unravel the events in satisfying detail, although you don’t learn anything you wouldn’t be able to pick up from US Weekly.
What you do learn is that America has a unique relationship with wrongdoing, in which it’s never easy to tell whether the real criminals are the murderers, the police or us. Towards the end of the first episode, a man is shown touting the only Polaroid of the bleeding designer for $30,000. American Crime Story says more about our consumption of crime than it does about anything else.
I was interested to read that Cunanan had copies of several books in the fleapit hotel where he planned his attacks. One of these books was, and — deep breath, because links as golden as this don’t present themselves every week — Kenneth Clark’s The Romantic Rebellion, a large picture book about 13 Romantic artists.
It was one of the most talked about series of last year – and now the follow up to Ryan Murphy’s American Crime Story: The People v. OJ is here.
The true crime anthology has returned to the small screen with American Crime Story: The Assassination of Gianni Versace.
The nine-episode second season is based on the novel Vulgar Favors: Andrew Cunanan, Gianni Versace, and the Largest Failed Manhunt in U.S. History by Maureen Orth.
And, more than a month after it began in North America, the series kicked off this week on the BBC Two.
This time, the focus is on the 1997 murder of fashion designer Gianni Versace (Édgar Ramírez) at the hands of serial killer Andrew Cunanan (Darren Criss).
The all-star cast is rounded out with Penélope Cruz playing the fiercely protective Donatella Versace and Ricky Marin playing Gianni’s partner, Antonio D’Amico.
So, as the series continues, here are four reasons to watch American Crime Story: The Assassination of Gianni Versace.
Darren Criss
While the show may be about Gianni Versace in name, the bulk of the season ends up following Criss’ Andrew Cunanan, focusing on everything from early life to his previous murderers – including how he managed to dodge the authorities for months.
And the Glee star definitely delivers.
In a performance that is equal parts American Psycho and American Horror Story, the 31-year-old manages to show how Cunanan faked his way through life, spinning some fairly impressive lies about his past, while still hinting at the loneliness underneath the facade.
The fashion
It wouldn’t be a show about Versace without at least some out-of-this world fashion. Among them? Some of the pieces from his final fashion show.
The family reportedly did not lend the show any of the vintage pieces during the filming process, branding the series a “work of fiction”.
But the costume department managed to re-create eight looks from Atelier Versace’s fall 1997 show in Paris – each more beautiful than the last.
The (off the show) drama
Before the series even began in North America, the Assassination of Gianni Versace was already found itself caught up in controversy.
The Versace family claimed that the show is “a work of fiction”, and the book that it is based on “is full of gossip and speculation”.
But FX, the channel airing the programme, insisted that they would “stand by the meticulous reporting of Ms. Orth.”
It leaves you with more questions than answers
We get the ‘what happened’ fairly early on in the series (the assassination of Versace on the steps of his Miami mansion), but a huge part of American Crime Story’s second season is also all about the ‘why’.
The show bounces through different years on the timeline, chronicling everything from the aftermath of Versace’s death to the lives of each of Cunanan’s other victims.
And, at least halfway through the season, viewers are left with more questions than they had when they began – and not quite enough answers.
Labels are the most powerful force in fashion. Gianni Versace, the innovative Italian designer who was gunned down outside his Miami Beach mansion in 1997, built one of the industry’s most evocative brands, becoming almost as famous as the Hollywood princesses and real-life royals who wore his frocks. His celebrity made him a vast fortune, but also a big target.
Versace’s killer was Andrew Cunanan, a fame-hungry fantasist and predatory gigolo with a drug habit. Cunanan had sex with men — sometimes for money, sometimes for pleasure — but hated being categorised as gay. Convinced of his creative genius, he resented his anonymity. When the world failed to reward his self-proclaimed brilliance with wealth and eminence, he opted to make a name for himself by shooting a star. Labels can also be a powerful force outside fashion.
Closeted homosexuality and dyed-in-the-wool homophobia are the central wardrobe malfunctions explored by The Assassination of Gianni Versace, the second tale from Ryan Murphy’s anthology series American Crime Story.
Like its predecessor, The People v OJ Simpson, the story is presented as a lightning flash over a darkened landscape, illuminating otherwise hidden features of the culture. On this score, however, the Versace show is disappointing. Racial politics, the trademark of the Simpson trial, is suitable for examination from multiple perspectives. The courtroom procedural format also provides inherent structure. But here, storyline and thematic concerns are more splintered. The giddy whirl of the Miami fashion scene is not a rich environment for thought-provoking drama, and many of the scenes are padded out with campy comedic knockabout.
Despite its title, the show is more about the assassin than the assassinated. Cunanan (played with convincing shiftiness by Darren Criss) had already slain four men before he set his gunsights on Versace. He was on the FBI’s most-wanted list — but a spree killer merely bumping off gay people was evidently a low priority for law enforcement.
Having shot the designer, Cunanan evaded capture for eight days, eventually killing himself. The derring-do of his cop evasion is chronicled at length, while his earlier life is recounted through flashbacks. It’s a framing of the story, with Cunanan centre stage, that glorifies the killer, lavishing him with the attention he craved.
Stealing the show: Darren Criss dazzles as the villain in The Assassination of Gianni Versace
Edgar Ramirez brings subtlety to his performance as Versace, but the character is little more than a collection of histrionic fashionista tics. There are moments when Versace is depicted as a rare voice of reason amid the luvvie babble and whinnying clothes horses. He’s aghast at the skeletal skinniness of supermodels, bored by the solipsism of his socialite fans. Mostly, he’s a whimpering diva, in thrall to delusions of grandeur about the artistic and social importance of his overpriced schmutter.
There’s a similarly cartoonish quality about all of the protagonists in the Versace universe. Penelope Cruz hams it up as an operatically heartbroken Donatella, the ball-busting sister who takes over the family business and narrative. Ricky Martin does fine lip-quivering as Antonio, Versace’s long-term boyfriend. Entertaining though these turns are, they seem to belong to a corny daytime soap rather than the gritty sociopolitical drama to which the series aspires.
The Assassination of Gianni Versace is at its best when it steers clear of the fashion set altogether. The stories of the men Cunanan killed before Versace are told in standalone episodes, offering sharp insight into the complexities of gay life in the 1990s — an era when tolerance of “alternative lifestyles” was preached more often than practised.
Cunanan was a product of social repression and a parasite who fed off it. Ashamed of his sexuality, he preyed on the shame of other gay men. His primary targets for blackmail were older guys, preferably with wives, families and lots to lose. Versace’s name is the VIP tag that helped get this series made, but these quieter, less celebrated tragedies are at its heart. Clever use of a designer label.
ACS news 