4YE’s TV Reels Feels For February 11th Through February 17th

This week, a special guest star stole our hearts in The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story while some Legends had us laughing with their epic one liners.

Check out what shows and performances made our list for this week’s feels!

Top Performer

Clare: This week Finn Wittrock from The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story just edges out over Darren Criss of the same series. I have been a fan of Wittrock’s since he first appeared on American Horror Story in season 4, and he has certainly played his fair share of creepy AF characters, so it was really good to see him in a completely different role and boy did he impress. That was one hell of a journey his character went on in this week’s episode and he nailed every aspect of it. The honour of serving his country, the shame, humiliation and sense of being trapped due to Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, the excitement of going into a gay bar for the first time and finally being able to be himself, through to the modern-day confrontation with Andrew Cunanan. Some really exciting work here from Wittrock.

Bec: While I’m certain Darren Criss will cinch the Best Actor in a Miniseries/Movie category at the Emmys this year, I think that Finn Wittrock will win for Best Guest Star or, at the very least, nab a nomination. I was a sobbing mess by the end of the episode. Like Clare, I think he nailed every aspect of it.

Verena: This week of television was rather slow for me, as not many of my shows aired new episodes. But I gotta give it to Finn Wittrock as well. What a wonderful performance in American Crime Story,heartbreaking and genuine. This week’s episode was his to shine. Next week we’re likely back to showering Darren Criss with praise.

Emmy: I’m siding with all you ladies as Finn Wittrock stole my heart and soul with his performance as Jeffrey Trail. Given that Criss has been pretty much the runaway star of the series so far, Wittrock’s performance blew my mind and broke my heart. As a military brat and someone who has grown up with soldiers, I felt every emotion in this episode as I know how much these soldiers give to their country and how hard it must have been for Trail to leave the service, especially under such sad circumstances as his heart was torn with wanting to serve his country but also be true to himself. If Wittrock doesn’t get a nod or a win for this episode, it will be a damn shame. Not to mention, as if I needed anymore reasons to hate Cunanan, Jeffrey’s murder just gave me another one.

Top Episode

Clare: With a number of my shows on hiatus for the Olympics, there wasn’t much competition for my top episode this week. However, even if that wasn’t the case, The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story’s “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” would have been hard to beat. The juxtaposition of Gianni Versace’s story and coming out with Jeff Trail’s story and inability to come out provided viewers with a chance to see just how far we’ve come with LGBT rights and acceptance, but also how bad it was and the impact it had on people’s lives. We also got to see the beginning of Andrew’s life start to unravel – addicted to drugs, having money issues, unemployed and people, his friends, starting to cotton on to his immense fantasy life and pulling away from him. A hard-hitting but extremely important hour of television that the cast and crew created this week.

Bec: To the shock of everyone, I’ll also give “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” the edge for best episode this week. It was a compelling hour of television and captured the late 20th century gay rights movement totally. Jeff Trail’s story resonated while Criss continues to give a star-making turn as Andrew Cunanan. It was just a riveting hour of television and proved what the thesis of this season for American Crime Story, which you can read about here.

Top Moment

Clare: I don’t have a moment this week, but more a series of moments that are all linked; Jeff’s trials in the navy. From when he saves the gay sailor from being bashed, to him comforting him, to his attempt to remove his tattoo, to being called into the Captain’s office and given the creepy comic book on respect and dignity, to him reading the comic and deciding the only way out is to take his own life. This sequence was extremely difficult to watch but no doubt left an impression on its viewers. Wittrock handled this with dignity, respect and class. My heart just broke for him.

Emmy: The whole series of Jeffrey preparing to kill himself. From the shining of his shoes to the ironing of his uniform with such precision pretty much broke me as we saw a man who was so full of pride for his job ultimately give it all up in heartbreak.

Quote

Clare:
“You destroyed me! I wish I never walked into that bar! I wish I never met you!” – Jeff Trail (Finn Wittrock) – The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story.

Emmy:
“No one wants your love!” – Jeff Trail The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story

dcriss-archive:

Via Ricky Martin’s Instagram Story (February 19th, 2018)

TV Review – The Assassination of Gianni Versace – DelmarvaLife

This is the second season of the FX anthology series American Crime Story. The first season was known as The People V. O. J. Simpson, which was about the murder of Nicole Simpson and Ron Goldman in 1994, as well as the infamous trial of NFL player O. J. Simpson that followed. That series featured an incredible cast giving incredible performances. It was also incredibly written to expose the issues of racism, sexism and media culture that the trial brought out. This season is attempting something similar but the way it’s going about it is different and more in-line with a Hollywood trend that I don’t much appreciate.

Hollywood over the past decade has output a lot of TV shows where the villain or bad guy is the protagonist. Specifically, there have been a significant number of programs where a serial killer is either the protagonist or main character who takes center stage in protagonist-like ways. Some notable examples are Dexter on Showtime, The Following on FOX, Hannibalon NBC, The Fall on Netflix, the recently cancelled Time After Time on ABC, and Bates Motel on A&E. There are other TV shows that fit into this mold like Breaking Bad on AMC or House of Cards on Netflix.

Each of those shows are exquisitely crafted, but each are problematic in their own ways. A lot of the time it depends how those shows ultimately end. A lot of those aforementioned shows can really revel in the gore and violence like Hannibal, much as a horror film would with the goal of disturbing the audience, but the ending can shape how all that revelry should be received, or what the takeaway should be.

The ending to Dexter was atrocious, but the ending to Bates Motel was superb. Therefore, my feelings about this series might change based on how it ends. Unfortunately, this series is based on a true-crime where the outcome is known. It’s not like Dexter, which is a fictional narrative. I can already guess based on how the first five of nine episodes go on how the ending will affect me.

In many of these stories about serial killers, the anchor is often the police or the detectives investigating. In The People V. O. J. Simpson, the anchors were the lawyers, specifically the prosecuting attorneys. If anything, the breakout stars of that season were Sarah Paulson who played Marcia Clark and Sterling K. Brown who played Christopher Darden. Clark and Darden were the prosecuting attorneys. Those anchors help to keep the whole thing from sinking totally into depravity. Those anchors as counterparts aren’t always required, but there’s got to be something to keep us from sinking into total depravity and I’m not sure this show has it, or if it does, whatever it is gets lost.

For example, The People V. O. J. Simpson never actually depicted the murders of Nicole Simpson or Ron Goldman. The series begins with them already dead and moves forward, never focusing or lingering on the corpses. There are five murders here. Three of which are particularly gruesome and this series chooses to depict all of them. It’s not as if we see Nicole Simpson getting stabbed to death and nearly decapitated. Yet, we do witness the murders as they occur here. Instead of moving forward, it goes backward. This show does also linger on the corpses. There’s a trade-off for that. On one hand, we get to know the victims here in ways we don’t get with Nicole Simpson and Ron Goldman but at the same time, the victims don’t get the fleshing out where their lives are celebrated as much as their last moments alive are stewed.

Maybe this is intentional on the part of writer Tom Rob Smith and co-executive producer Ryan Murphy who has been the leading, creative force behind both this season and last. Both Murphy and Smith are openly gay, and in this country for decades, the deaths or murders of LGBT people, especially gay men or trans-women haven’t been treated with the same importance, or with the same care. Sometimes, it’s something as simple and as insidious as the police not mentioning or acknowledging that the victim was gay, even when it’s an element of the crime, as the third episode shows. By focusing on the corpses, lingering on them, maybe it’s Murphy and Smith’s way of forcing or reckoning with how gay victims have been dismissed or sometimes ignored.

That’s an extrapolation that can be gained from this series, but the structure and pacing, however, negate whatever homophobia this series might want to expose. The first, two episodes are fine and everything this series wants to say is said in just those two episodes. The next three episodes change direction and attempt to deconstruct the psychopath at the center, but it doesn’t. It mires him in a one-note mode of wickedness and insanity. It attempts to give voice or breath to the victims who are left in his wake, but it doesn’t. They are merely victims swept up in the wave of killing. Glimpses of insight are washed over with shocking acts of violence that undermine the whole enterprise. The exception is Episode 5, possibly.

Darren Criss (Glee) stars as Andrew Phillip Cunanan, a 27-year-old murder fugitive who shot and killed Gianni Versace, the famous Italian, fashion designer on July 15, 1997. No one knows why. Reportedly, the two met once at a night club in San Francisco in October 1990. No other connection is known or believed. Andrew is gay and had a pattern of having sex with older men in order to get money or luxury items. Versace was an older gay man who Andrew might have identified as a target, an obsession that he knew he could never have, so he snapped and shot him.

Initially, Criss’ performance is reminiscent of Matt Damon’s in The Talented Mr. Ripley (1999) or Will Smith in Six Degrees of Separation (1993). He’s a quick witted, smooth-talking, ingratiating, social climbing sycophant. He’s clearly a pathological liar with a desperate desire to be connected to the wealthy without doing anything to earn it. This series invites psychoanalysis of Andrew, but only in the first episode. By the second, he’s just on the run. The third and fourth episodes portray him as a sheer psychopath who’s mostly vapid. Surely, that changes in episodes six to nine as the chronology moves backward and we delve into Andrew’s childhood, but I already don’t care, which is why the show should have reversed the order of the episodes.

Oddly, the third episode has the least Andrew and is probably the best episode from a character standpoint. Unfortunately, the character is neither Andrew nor the victim, Lee Miglin, played by Mike Farrell (M*A*S*H and Providence). Actually, it’s not unfortunately because that character is Marilyn Miglin, played by the amazing Judith Light (Transparent and Who’s the Boss). She’s only present in this, one episode, but her performance of this woman who’s life is disillusioned after 38 years of marriage is worthy of every award you could throw at it.

Episode 4 is a prime example of sinking into depravity, following a horror scenario simply for horror’s sake. One can condemn the episode for being an exercise in pure conjecture, which would be fine, if it wasn’t needed. Episode 5 is better for supplying more of a platform to explore the characters who would be Andrew’s first murder victims, Jeffrey Trail, played by Finn Wittrock, and David Madson, played by Cody Fern. Jeffrey is the first person killed by Andrew, and if anything, Episode 5 is in part a tribute to him, as it underlines homophobia in the military during the 90’s, and it’s actually the most tribute one of the victims gets other than the titular character.

Edgar Ramírez (Joy and Hands of Stone) co-stars as Gianni Versace. Pop star Ricky Martin also co-stars as Antonio D’Amico, the partner and lover of Gianni. Unfortunately, both of them are virtually non-existent in the first, four episodes. When they appear again in Episode 5, it’s a surprise. Yet, they’ve been absent so long one almost doesn’t care to see them. The two of them aren’t given the due they should have, and their story or rather their kind of story in many ways was better told in Behind the Candelabra (2013).

TV Review – The Assassination of Gianni Versace – DelmarvaLife

The Assassination of Gianni Versace Recap, Episode 5

I have to be honest and note that I felt this episode was a little bit of a structural mess — with the caveat that it’s still remarkably well-acted, and “a little bit of a structural mess” for this program is the equivalent of giving a kid on the honor roll a B+. It’s still something to be proud of, but that kid might be a little irritated that you didn’t just hand over the A-. Yet again, I think the problem in part stems from something we’ve talked about at length — namely, that this show is about Andrew Cunanan, and not Gianni Versace, but the title means there’s a narrative requirement to check in on Versace every now and then, even when it feels a little ham-handed. This week, there is a parallel drawn between Versace coming out to The Advocate, and Andrew’s victim Jeff (who is so well portrayed by Finn Wittrock) speaking to 48 Hours about the question of gays in the military, and Don’t Ask Don’t Tell. While the scenes between Versace and Donatella are very well-acted (if weirdly blocked; half the time, Gianni walks into a room, sits at a table, does nothing, then gets up and walks to another table, and I honestly think it’s to show off the sets), they felt like unnecessary, if interesting, bookends to the REAL story in this episode, which is how Andrew knew Jeff Trail and David Madson, and why he eventually killed Jeff. You could have cut both Versace scenes out of this episode without it impacting the narrative thrust of the story, and to me the parallels felt a little clonky, even though I found them independently compelling.

I also highly recommend Vulture’s fact-checking of each episode, especially for episodes like this one, where I often wondered how much was fact and how much was supposition. It seems that everyone in real life is still in the dark about why Andrew hated Jeff Trail as much as he did, or what happened between them — because everyone who knew the answer died, I suppose. And the scenes that are supposed to elucidate this do seem a little flabby. Jeff and Andrew’s confrontations felt like they were written without The Powers That Be having actually made a creative decision about why Jeff is really so mad at Andrew in the first place, and why Andrew actually chose to kill him. Last week, I assumed Andrew killed Jeff because he knew Jeff and David were hooking up and he was jealous, but that doesn’t seem to be the case; this episode sort of implies that he just kills him because they have a big fight and Jeff hates him for vague reasons. I mean: Andrew is hate-able and also tried to “accidentally” out him, and is also a creepy person who wears other people’s dress whites; there are MANY legitimate reasons for Jeff to hate him. But the actual scene of their confrontation felt like strangely unspecific to me. Certainly, Jeff is miserable not being in the military anymore but his blaming Andrew for that seemed like a narrative stretch for that character, who comes across as a hugely kind, decent, and conflicted person. I think that’s the main stumbling block of this show — there is so much we don’t, and can’t know, that the story-telling by nature turns a little vague.

Alson: This was the episode were I really realized that they actually are telling the story backward and it felt a little confusing; my theory is that, in retrospect, this will prove to be the one episode where that conceit is a little bumpy (it worked well in previous episodes, I thought). It was hard for me, on occasion, to hold in my head where, exactly, we were in time and how much we were jumping around; there are flashbacks within flashbacks within flashbacks, and it was somewhat dizzying.

Other thoughts, before we look at some visuals: Finn Wittrock, as I mentioned, was amazingly good in this episode, and Jeff Trail’s story broke my heart. I found the scenes of his suicide attempt, and his attempt to remove his own tattoo, as painful to watch as anything I’ve seen on TV in a long time; he is heartrending in this. Cody Fern, who plays David, is also excellent in this episode (although last week was more of an acting tour de force for him, naturally). And Darren Criss is just great. He is so chilling in that scene wherein he’s going through Jeff’s stuff and puts on his dress whites; it says something that it’s just terrifying to watch him put on a hat and watch a video tape. I don’t know that this show is getting as much buzz as The People Vs. OJ Simpson — what has? — but I hope the acting is recognized, because it’s really superb.

These scenes with Gianni, Antonio, and Donatella are VERY compelling to me, although at this point in the series, they also kind of feel as if they’ve been ported in from a show that’s more about Versace’s life. I obviously wanted to include this so you can see Versace’s amazing wall of books.

And this was a nifty shot – and that’s a glam jacket on Donatella, who is arguing against Gianni’s coming out publicly because she thinks it might hurt the business; 1993 was a very different time.

I did have to kind of laugh in this scene; Gianni is explaining to Donatella why the Advocate interview is important to him, and all Edgar Ramirez does is walk to various work stations, briefly stand next to them, and then walk to the next one. It seems like…an unrealistic look at his atelier. That being said, I actually thought this scene was really interesting and illuminating. I didn’t know, for example, that Perry Ellis had died of AIDS, and nearly collapsed on his own runway, which is incredibly sad. I’m currently reading Tina Brown’s Vanity Fair Diaries – which are dishy and great, and you’d like them, I think; a lot of the Amazon reviews are like, “there’s so much name-dropping!” but when you’re EiC of Vanity Fair, you have a lot of names to drop – and much of it is about the AIDS crisis in New York in the early 90s, and it’s so sad and poignant. There is also a whole bit here where Gianni is talking about how he should have died, but it’s a miracle that he didn’t, and again the show is kind of vague about whatever medical issue he’s talking about: IS he talking about AIDS? (I also wonder how much of this vagueness is due to the show’s unwillingness to get sued by the Versace family.

This is a very naive question, but what do we think Andrew is injecting into his toe? He seems too peppy for it to be heroin? I am assuming it’s speed, but this is not my area of expertise.

It made me laugh in the Vulture piece where they noted, essentially, “we do not know if Andrew had a creepy stalker wall of anyone in San Diego.” (He did NOT have a creepy stalker wall of Versace in Miami.) Nevertheless: there’s no better way in TV to explain that you’re dealing w. a real crackpot. FWIW, this vaguely reminds me of my own shrine to Ralph Fiennes when I was in college.

I’d like to commend the costumer for absolutely nailing Man Denim of the Early 90s.

Darren Criss is SO GOOD at being…very alarming even when he’s ostensibly being nice.

This actress, Sophie von Haselberg, is Bette Midler’s daughter, which I figured out because I thought, “WOW, she looks like Bette Midler.”

I thought the Jeff Trail storyline tracing his time in the military – he’s terrified that people will find out he is gay – was really, really moving. I also think this INSANE COMIC the Navy gave to officers to explain Don’t Ask Don’t Tell seems BONKERS. Can you imagine being the artist who had to make this thing?

The Assassination of Gianni Versace Recap, Episode 5

https://api.soundcloud.com/tracks/401975808/stream?client_id=N2eHz8D7GtXSl6fTtcGHdSJiS74xqOUI?plead=please-dont-download-this-or-our-lawyers-wont-let-us-host-audio

Rachel and Becky Judge Things Episode 7: The Assassination of Gianni Versace

How true is this true crime, and how would you rate Daren Criss’s butt? We watched American Crime Story: The Assassination of Gianni Versace and we’d put it solidly in the Middle Place.

The book Rachel meant to recommend, by the way, is Homicide: A Year on the Killing Streets, by David Simon. If you google what she actually said it’ll come up, but just in case. | 19 February 2018

Do villains get too much of the spotlight (and empathy) in ‘Versace,’ ‘Waco’ and ‘Tonya’?

Maybe crime really doesn’t pay, but it seems tougher to make that argument with the recent spate of film and TV projects highlighting real people best known for their worst actions.

Historical names and events — Gianni Versace, the Waco siege, Harding vs. Kerrigan — draw viewers’ attention, but writers often change details or shift focus, softening the rougher edges of the transgressor or losing sight of the victims.

FX’s limited series The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story (Wednesdays, 10 ET/PT), is less about the acclaimed Italian designer than Andrew Cunanan, the man famous for his brutal killings of five men, including the fashion icon.

As Paramount Network’s Waco (Wednesdays, 10 ET/PT) reveals a side of Branch Davidian leader David Koresh that it claims government and the media missed, the series treads lightly regarding allegations that he had sex with underage girls.

And Oscar nominee I, Tonya (in theaters now), which cavalierly jokes about its accuracy, recasts figure skater Tonya Harding, convicted of hindering prosecution after the assault of rival Nancy Kerrigan, as a spiky underdog.

All these projects make commendable points. Versace examines anti-gay bigotry in law enforcement and society; Waco looks at questions of faith, freedom and government power; and I, Tonya depicts the toll of class discrimination and domestic violence.

But in the process, each raises the profile of people we wouldn’t remember if not for their bad acts. Dead or alive, that’s a big status bump in a society obsessed with celebrity.

The biggest problem is how they highlight the perpetrator while giving less attention to those who have been wronged. Both Versace and Waco flesh out the victims to a degree, but the FX miniseries is ultimately killer Cunanan’s story and Waco’s focus on Koresh overshadows the depiction of his fellow Branch Davidians, limiting our ability to know and feel for them.

At least they try. Although Harding’s misdeed isn’t remotely comparable to the actions of Cunanan or Koresh, the contrast between Harding and Kerrigan in I, Tonya is the most galling.

Olympic silver medalist Kerrigan, whose injury at the hands of people connected to Harding is the reason we remember this rivalry, is treated as a whiny afterthought. Her dialogue consists of the famous anguished question — “Why? Why?” — while the film’s namesake was recently thanked from the stage at the Golden Globes. Something’s wrong here.

We’re now accustomed to more honest, shaded portrayals: heroes with flaws and villains who aren’t entirely evil. But when actors or writers attempt to make their characters more empathetic, they can unintentionally burnish a wrongdoer’s image.

“It’s my job to be empathetic. If I set out to paint him as a monster, then there’s no point in telling the story. This isn’t a Bond villain,” says Darren Criss, who plays Cunanan.

Viewers may connect more, too, when real-life bad actors are played by better-looking professionals: Criss as Cunanan; Taylor Kitsch as Koresh; and Margot Robbie as Harding. We’re drawn to good-looking people and tend to give them the benefit of the doubt.

Humanity’s dark side is fascinating, with great storytelling appeal. Just look at some of the best shows of TV’s current golden age, including Mad Men, The Sopranos and Game of Thrones. But it’s less complicated when the character in question is a work of fiction.

Real people — both perpetrators and victims — make for great stories, too, but there’s a responsibility to get them right. Ideally, viewers would use films and TV shows as jumping-off points to learn more about the subjects. Unfortunately, for many it’s too often the only source of information.

A good start would be to find out more about those who don’t get the attention they deserve.

Go beyond Versace’s depiction of the fashion genius and his brave decision to live openly as a gay man. Learn more about him and Cunanan’s other victims.

Think of the others, especially the children, who died at Waco’s Branch Davidian compound and find out more about religious cults and offshoots.

And read up on the impressive skating accomplishments of Kerrigan, who faced her own challenges but somehow managed to reach skating’s pinnacle — and, unlike her rival, avoid a criminal conviction in the process.

We can hope they’ll all get a TV show or a movie, but we know that’s not going to happen. They’re not doing anything bad.

Do villains get too much of the spotlight (and empathy) in ‘Versace,’ ‘Waco’ and ‘Tonya’?

Why ‘The Assassination of Gianni Versace’ Is Not the Show You Think

When FX announced a new anthology series American Crime Story, from prolific writer/producer/director Ryan Murphy, there was skepticism aplenty. That doubled when we learned that the initial season would revolve around the trial of O.J. Simpson. But to almost everyone’s surprise, The People v. O.J. Simpson was excellent. It was enthralling, wonderfully crafted, and most importantly insightful—the series brought new layers to a well-known event, highlighting the misogyny, bias, and racism that hung over the entire trial like a heavy cloud.

Because of that success, any skepticism went out the window for the second season, The Assassination of Gianni Versace. But while the show had a heavy marketing campaign from FX and debuted a month ago, the series has failed to capture the zeitgeist the same way O.J. did. Ratings are down sharply from the previous season, as there simply didn’t seem to be much interest in a retelling of the murder of the titular fashion designer. However, those that are actually watching Versace know that the show Murphy and writer Tom Rob Smith (who penned every episode) have crafted is something wildly different from what the promos would lead you to believe.

Indeed, while the marketing for Versace revolved around the glamorous life of Gianni Versace (played by Edgar Ramirez in the series) and his sister Donatella (Penelope Cruz), the series is something of a bait-and-switch. It opens by showing us a slice of Versace’s life, and the first episode ends with his murder. From then on, the story works backwards, tracing the steps that led to this devastating event. But Versace isn’t the show’s focus—his killer, Andrew Cunanan (Darren Criss) is. Indeed, Versace barely even appears in the show’s third and fourth episodes, as the series puts its focus squarely on Cunanan.

Versace was actually the fourth person Cunanan killed, and the show is now taking its time in providing context to those first few killings, which put Cunanan on the path towards taking Versace’s life. In the process, Murphy and Smith are offering a terrifying portrait of a killer in the vein of American Psycho. The show’s tonal touchstones have far more in common with that film or Alfred Hitchcock’s iconic Psycho than they do with any kind of wealth porn or hagiographic story of celebrity.

The series is also really zeroing in on Cunanan’s struggles with his homosexuality, and how that contrasts and compares with Versace’s experience as a gay man—albeit one of wealth and fame. Cunanan was clearly mentally ill from the get-go, constantly lying about things big and small and living in his own fantasyland. He worked as an escort for older, oftentimes wealthy men living in the closet, and the show posits that his jealousy and disgust may have been motivating factors in what led him to kill.

Indeed, the mid to late 1990s were still rife with stigma for homosexuals, especially in the wake of the AIDS crisis, and Cunanan had zero empathy or sympathy for closeted men who were ashamed of their sexuality. Was this his sole motivation for killing? Probably not, but American Crime Story makes a compelling case for it to have been a factor nevertheless.

The show’s third and fourth episodes are largely contained, playing out almost like mini horror movies—especially Episode 3, in which we stick with Cunanan in real-time through his first two murders. Given that the individuals involved in these attacks are all dead, the show is obviously dramatizing the exact conversations that went on, but again it’s making an intriguing argument about Cunanan’s motive, which has eluded many for the last few decades.

All of that said, Versace still hasn’t reached the heights of The People v. O.J. The fractured/Memento-esque narrative is compelling at times, but it can also be frustrating, and to be quite honest the Versace-centric portions—at least thus far—lack a certain “oomph” that the rest of the show seems to have. The very best reason to be watching Versace is Darren Criss, who delivers an absolutely phenomenal and terrifying performance as Cunanan. This is a multi-dimensional, complicated, and bold performance as Criss can turn Cunanan’s personality on a dime, in a manner that’ll send chills down your spine.

So if you saw the promotional materials for Versace and thought this would be a series about wealth and glamor and life in the spotlight, it is very much not that show. The series certainly touches on some of these issues, but Cunanan is undoubtedly the protagonist here, and Ramirez’s Versace is but a minor player in the overall story that Murphy and Smith are telling. And thus far, it’s a fascinating and downright disturbing one.

Why ‘The Assassination of Gianni Versace’ Is Not the Show You Think

Source

The Assassination of Gianni Versace, a playlist by Malinda Kao on Spotify

The Assassination of Gianni Versace Spotify playlist | updated to episode 5

Adagio in G Minor for Strings and Organ, “Albinoni’s Adagio” • 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” • Bellini: I Capuleti e i Montecchi, Act 1: “Oh! quante volte” (Giulietta) • Gloria • Easy Lover • Back to Life • You Showed Me • Giacomelli: Merope: “Sposa, son disprezzata” (Merope) • A Little Bit of Ecstasy • Be My Lover • This Is the Right Time • A Certain Sadness • It’s Magic • St. Thomas • Pump Up The Jam • Fascinated • Sensitivity

The Assassination of Gianni Versace, a playlist by Malinda Kao on Spotify

A wrenching episode of American Crime Story: Versace exposes the cost of Don’t Ask Don’t Tell

Perhaps the best way to describe this season of American Crime Story isn’t in words, but in one of its most frequent music cues: a long, eerie violin note stretching between major and minor keys, scratching at the screen like branches on a windowpane.

Sometimes the plaintive string slices through scenes to punctuate banal terrors, springing from the insecurity and paranoia engulfing its central characters. Most often, it creeps out of the silence as the camera fixes its gaze on Andrew Cunanan (Darren Criss), the serial killer whose unnerving magnetism was his greatest asset and biggest tell. Every time, it is disorienting and terrible, piercing and unrelenting.

The Assassination of Gianni Versace is not, in other words, the pulpy recreation of Versace’s luxe life and shocking murder that many assumed it would be. Instead, every episode has been its own slow-building horror movie — and, thanks to a narrative structure that jumps backwards through time from the murders to the events leading up to them, there’s little in the way of relief from the tension.

One of the show’s most distinctive throughlines is also the one that gets a particularly devastating showcase in “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell.” As the episode cuts between 1995 and 1997, just about every story hinges on the constant, grinding frustration of being stuck in the closet, the potential humiliation of getting unwillingly dragged out of it, and the paralyzing fear of malicious homophobes discovering the truth.

In the first three episodes, the closet loomed large as the bane of Versace’s career and a source of Cunanan’s caustic disdain. In the fourth (“House by the Lake”), the show dove into the past of Cunanan’s second victim David Madson (Cody Fern), heartbreakingly revealing his terror of coming out to his father. But the looming specter of the closet takes center stage in “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell,” which follows the tragic journey of Jeffrey Trail, a former Navy lieutenant and Cunanan’s first victim, to its violent end.

As played by a steel-jawed Finn Wittrock, Trail is a man bound by duty, determination, and deep-seated fear of his peers realizing he’s gay. The episode tracks his experience in the Navy, his first encounter with a charming Cunanan in a gay bar, and his constant internal conflict over how to reconcile his sexuality with his chosen career. Casting a shadow of inevitable tragedy over the whole thing is Jeffrey’s introduction to the show in the previous episode, when Cunanan killed him by smashing his head in with a hammer.

“Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” is an unrelentingly wrenching hour. So much of it hangs on the terrifying precipice Jeffrey had to keep from falling over every day in the Navy, and his barely restrained fury at an institution he loves mistreating him so badly, before finally pushing him into the abyss of Cunanan’s rage.

There is a glancing attempt in this episode to tie Jeffrey’s struggle with being closeted to Gianni Versace’s, as both prepare for starkly different interviews in which they tell the truth. Jeffrey, his profile cast in total shadow, gives an anonymous interview to a CBS reporter in a dingy motel about being closeted in the military; Versace (Edgar Ramirez), accompanied by his longterm partner Antonio D’Amico (Ricky Martin), sits down with the news publication The Advocate in a lavish hotel suite for his official coming out. Both men are resolute, adamant that this is the right thing to do — but both are also deeply scared, steeling themselves for the inevitable hell there will be to pay.

More than anything, this episode highlights the value of the approach writer Tom Rob Smith has taken to American Crime Story, giving depth to Cunanan’s victims who didn’t make many headlines at all before they counted Versace among their number, and more broadly, exploring the very real dangers of homophobia. “The Assassination of Gianni Versace is not the detailing of a murder spree as much as it is a taxonomy of gay tragedy,” as Richard Lawson wrote in his review for Vanity Fair. “It illustrates the maiming effect of the closet and the ways a society’s codified reverence for money and clout can badly entangle with private yearnings forced into the margins, into the dark.”

“Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” lives in those exact margins. Terrified that he will be found out, Jeffrey clings to the heterosexual mirage the military forces him into — a violation it dares to recontextualize as his duty to uphold. The score’s creeping malaise lurks around the edges, swelling as his paranoia spikes, loading every stolen glance with imminent danger.

In just about every way, this episode makes the political wrenchingly personal

In a series of heartbreaking scenes, Jeffrey steps in to stop sailors from beating a gay peer into a bloody pulp and is immediately seized by terror that they might suspect he’s only doing that because he, too, is gay. (A fear that proves to be accurate.) One of the episode’s best and most devastating moments comes when he tries to comfort the gay sailor, finally allowing himself to be just tender enough — laying a sympathetic hand along the other man’s bruised face — that the man can understand he’s in the company of someone who intimately understands his pain.

Eventually, the episode circles back to Jeffrey’s relationship with Cunanan, revealing that they met during Jeffrey’s first time in a gay bar. In these moments, Dan Minahan’s direction takes on distinct point of view shots, adopting Cunanan’s concentrated glare when he’s angry and even Jeffrey’s reluctantly intrigued gaze at the bar’s glistening go-go boy. And yes, getting the context for why Cunanan snapped so hard at Jeffrey — jealousy over his relationship with David Madson combined with disdain for Jeffrey’s allegiance to the Navy that spurned him — is exactly as painful as it sounds.

But just like when it concentrated on David’s individual hurt in “House on the Lake,” “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” makes its most brutally effective points when it trains its gaze on Jeffrey. If I had to pick one moment that sums it up, it would be when Cunanan accuses Jeffrey of being “confused … and you don’t even know it,” and Wittrock’s face bursts wide open as Jeffrey finally lets himself explode. “I see it, I feel it, I hate it,” Jeffrey cries, looking for all the world like he just tore his own heart out of his chest.

“Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” is The Assassination of Gianni Versace’s most overtly political hour, explicitly laying out the traumatic effects of its titular policy and condemning the system that put it in place. When it digs this deep and this personal, it’s hard to argue the power of the series’ blunt-force approach to gay trauma — especially not when the history it’s retelling isn’t so long gone after all.

Being reminded that this sanctioned homophobia is much closer in our rearview mirror than it may appear, and in fact still exists in other forms today, is harrowing. But it also makes for a heart-stopping, crucial piece of television storytelling that rightfully recasts America’s history of homophobia as a violent and unforgivable crime.

A wrenching episode of American Crime Story: Versace exposes the cost of Don’t Ask Don’t Tell