Edgar Ramirez Dishes On Tackling The Meatiest Role Of His Career: Fashion Icon Gianni Versace | 16 February 2018
Tag: february 2018
Edgar Ramirez Discusses Playing Fashion Icon Gianni Versace
Playing larger-than-life fashion icon Gianni Versace isn’t a role Édgar Ramírez will soon to forget: the 20 pounds he put on for the part in Ryan Murphy’s The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story are a constant reminder.
“I had to gain weight, so I somehow kept the character with me all the time. I had to live with that weight for seven months. Every time I touched my belly or had heartburn, it reminded me of the show. Every time I couldn’t fit into my pants or was on a photo shoot and couldn’t fit into sample sizes, I was reminded that I was playing Gianni,” he confides ruefully.
It’s the night before the second season premiere of FX’s true-crime anthology, a highly anticipated follow-up to 2016’s much-feted, award-winning The People v. O.J. Simpson. The 40-year-old actor is in New York to promote the nine-episode series, an exploration of Versace’s murder that is based on Maureen Orth’s best-seller Vulgar Favors: Andrew Cunanan, Gianni Versace, and the Largest Failed Manhunt in U.S. History. Despite having a nasty cold—which hit him “like a truck” during Golden Globes week—and still toting around some of that extra, custom-designed Versace baggage, his passion for the project is palpable.
“What Versace did—the impact that he had on the history of fashion and culture—is undeniable. He basically changed fashion by marrying sexuality and glamour on an unparalleled scale. Right now, we live—for better or worse—in a time that was shaped by Gianni Versace. The culture of bling, the exacerbation of fame, the picture between cinema and fashion, and fame and celebrity is something Gianni helped to create,” he enthuses.
Sadly, the Italian-born designer’s death became as infamous as his life had been. He was shot and killed in cold blood on July 15, 1997, on the steps of his Miami Beach mansion after returning from a walk on Ocean Drive. He was the fifth victim of serial killer who committed suicide just eight days later.
Ramírez—like most of the world—was fascinated by the glittering Gianni Versace, but it was the chance to work with American Crime Story’s equally mesmerizing producer and creator that drew him to the role. “I want to be part of stories that are not only dramatically gripping—that grab you and don’t let go—but that also touch upon important subjects. This is the case for most of Ryan Murphy’s work—his stories are interesting, but also socially and culturally relevant,” he notes, before admitting, “The first thing that drew me to the project was Ryan. I’ve been a huge admirer of Ryan Murphy for a long, long time.”
That said, he still didn’t accept the role right away. In Hollywood, Ryan Murphy need only snap his fingers and say “Jump!” before any number of A-list stars would squeak “How high?” But not Ramírez. He wanted to be sure of the project before he signed on the dotted line, and bold as brass, told Murphy to “come back to [him] with another script.”
When we applaud his chutzpah, the actor is quick to set the record straight and maintain that he is not a diva. “I loved the script immediately, but just based on one episode, it was very difficult for me to understand how the character was going to be a force, and not just a presence,” he explains. “That was very important. I needed to read other episodes to be able to understand where the character was going. It’s not about the size of a character, it’s about how much of a force a character is within a story. I knew that the writers were going to be spectacular, but I wanted to understand the direction of the whole story. Ryan gave me my process and my space, so I said yes.”
He has another reason for being hesitant: He’s been burned before—and it only happened once—but he’s loath to let it happen again. “People can have the best intentions—and I can say I’ve always worked with well-intentioned people—but so many things can happen in a production. Things change, and then all you’re left with is promises when you’ve already taken on a project. For me, it’s very important to take responsibility of my choices,” he notes, before describing his most disappointing cinematic experience, in what was one of his first major roles.
“I was lucky that it happened early in my career, which made it actually painless in a way, because I learned that I have to do projects for the right reasons,” Ramírez says. “I wasn’t sure about the script and was more fascinated by the people I was going to work with, the scope of the project and the charisma of the director—who turned out to be a much better producer than a director and a writer. I was enchanted by his promises and how he pitched the movie to me. But it didn’t end up that way on the page, and I was already committed; [the character wound up being ] difficult for me to play.”
His starring turn in The Assassination of Gianni Versace is a role that he takes full ownership of. “What I said to Ryan is, ‘I have to be responsible for my choice, so that if I sign on regardless of what happens, I’m not going to blame anyone—you or the producers,’” he recalls, noting, “It’s not about having things my way, because that’s boring. I love to be surprised by material, but walking into the unknown I need to be sure that I’m being responsible for that leap. I need certain conditions to be met for me to open up to the adventure.”
Clearly, Murphy, along with the cast and crew, more than satisfied his requirements, giving Ramírez one of the top overall experiences of his career. “This is one of the best roles I’ve ever had the chance to play. I couldn’t be happier, and I have only great things to say about this experience,” he says, adding that he’s not only formed a life-long friendship with Murphy, but with co-stars Penélope Cruz, who plays Gianni’s sister, Donatella; Ricky Martin, as his longtime lover, Antonio D’Amico; and Darren Criss, as the killer Cunanan.
He formed a familial bond with Cruz in particular, whom he first met while filming the series in December and refers to as “a very good friend,” though the cast as a whole truly seemed to form a life-long bond. “It doesn’t happen very often, but we all became very close. It was one of those experiences where you know that everyone will be in each other’s life after this project,” Ramírez vows.
Their closeness was especially opportune given the sensitive subject matter. “It was a lucky strike that really helped the process, because this was a very intense shoot, and we had very [dramatic] scenes,” he maintains. “The family relationships within the Versace clan were volatile, and we had to have a lot of trust in each other. We had to really abandon ourselves to each other to really get to the core of the scene.”
The fiery Versace family hasn’t been particularly impressed with Murphy’s project, which, again, ais based on a nonfiction work. They released a statement in January asserting that they “neither authorized nor had any involvement whatsoever” in the series, and that it “should only be considered as a work of fiction.” A follow-up declaration was equally dismissive, announcing that the “Orth book itself is full of gossip and speculation” and was an “effort to create a sensational story” with “secondhand hearsay that is full of contradictions.”
Needless to say, Ramírez did not get in touch with any members of the Versace family—not his brother, Santo, niece, Allegra, nephew, Daniel, nor Donatella (who reportedly sent friend Penélope Cruz a bouquet of flowers wishing her luck)—while researching the role. Instead, he did his research by reading old interviews, and also managed to find friends of the late designer who were willing to talk and provided much-needed, personal insight into his life. “For particular reasons, we weren’t allowed to [approach the family], but I also knew it would be fruitless, and I didn’t want to do that. They weren’t open. The Versaces went through one of the most horrible tragedies in contemporary history, and it happened in the public eye. I knew this was going to be hard for them, so I didn’t want to reach out to them,” he admits.
That said, he is interested in hearing their thoughts after they’ve actually seen the series, which debuted on January 17: “I’m very curious to see what their reaction will be when the cat is finally out of the bag, and they see what we did, and that we did it with the utmost respect and compassion. It is not sensational. Our show is based on a nonfiction book by a highly respected female writer, and we stand by her reporting.”
After playing Gianni Versace, however, Ramírez very keenly feels the family’s grief. “In order to understand the massive loss that this man’s disappearance was, we really had to understand his creative process and how much love he had for art, for life, his family,” he notes. “In the most Italian of ways, he had such a hunger for life. He had such curiosity. He was such a disruptor, such a nonconformist. He tried to change the world in the best way he could. After having portrayed his life, it hurts more to know that he’s no longer with us.”
However, Ramírez did not have to shake off his sadness at the end of every day. Instead, he embraced the true essence of Gianni Versace. “I didn’t really need to get rid of the character every time I walked off set, because he was fun,” he admits. “It was nice to be him. It was nice to be that force.”
CARPE DIEM
Ramírez has always stood up for what he believes in, and does this even more so now that he has the world as his stage. “I have the opportunity to help others by the virtue of what I do,” he notes. “I have a great platform to give a voice to people who are underrepresented or don’t have a voice. I think that’s a part of my responsibility.”
He does this most frequently through HeForShe, a solidarity campaign for the advancement of women initiated by UN Women. The movement’s goal is to achieve equality by encouraging men and boys to become agents of change and to act against the inequalities that women face worldwide.
“[As a result of the campaign], I think that women have felt supported and more men have their backs. Men have felt encouraged to also join forces in trying to reach a more gender-equal world, which is the goal of the movement. Gender equality is a liberation movement for each and every person that has felt the burden of a gender stereotype, or like they’ve had to fit into an uncomfortable mold or felt the pain of discrimination,” he declares.
And no, he’s never been personally discriminated against, never had resistance or doubt in accepting a job, and that’s the point. Things shouldn’t always be easy, and if they are, you fight for others, in his opinion.
“[Discrimination] has never personally happened to me, but it’s been very close to me—my mom, my sister, my niece, my female friends. Not even when I decided to become an actor did I feel it. To have had the privilege to decide my life and what I am, that obliges you to help other people to have the same privileges,” he says.
Growing up in San Cristóbal, Táchira, Venezuela as the son of Soday Arellano, an attorney, and Filiberto Ramírez, a military officer, Ramírez was allowed to do as he pleased. His sister, Nataly, was not as fortunate. “I never felt that I needed to do something else, because my father’s expectations were different. I felt very supported at home. But my sister was not. For example, she wanted to become a pilot. She really knows how to drive a car. She wanted to become a race [car driver] and pursue that passion, but my father wouldn’t let her. I had the privilege to choose and decide my life, clearly,” he says. “My sister, cousins and friends didn’t have that choice. I had more opportunities to decide my life based on my gender. I was never criticized by my dad when I decided to become an actor. He said, ‘Okay, I guess you know what you’re doing,’ but I don’t know if it would have been the same thing if my sister had wanted to be that.” Incidentally, there are no hard feelings today in his household. “We are, as a family, trying to build opportunities for the next generation so they don’t feel the burden of a gender stereotype,” he says.
Ramírez, who is also a Goodwill Ambassador of the United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF) and supports Amnesty International, has always stood up for what he believes in. “I’ve always been an outspoken person since I was a kid,” he reveals. “I didn’t always know what I wanted to do, but if I wanted something, I was determined to get it.”
He had the freedom to try his hand at a variety of careers until he found one that fit. After graduating from Venezuela’s Universidad Católica Andrés Bello with a degree in mass communication and a minor in audiovisual communication with the intention of pursuing international relations, he tried a stint as a political journalist before working as executive director of Dale al Voto, a Venezuelan foundation similar to Rock the Vote. He also worked in promotions at one point before deciding to become an actor.
His first role of note was in the Venevisión soap opera Cosita Rica. His first major motion picture was Tony Scott’s 2005 film, Domino, and first blockbuster the 2007 action flick The Bourne Ultimatum. He has appeared in a plethora of films with big-name directors since his early days as an actor, including Steven Soderbergh’s Che; Kathryn Bigelow’s Zero Dark Thirty; andDavid O. Russell’s Joy. Other projects include Vantage Point; the 2015 Point Break reboot; Hands of Stone; The Girl on the Train; and, more recently, Gold and Bright.
He just wrapped Pablo Trapero’s thriller The Quietude with The Artist’s Bérénice Bejo in Argentina and will reunite with Robert De Niro for the third time in a top-secret project. Although he can’t talk about the film, he has plenty to say about De Niro, his co-star in Joy and Hands of Stone. “I’ve only done two films with Bob, but it feels like six because of the intensity of the films, but also because of the intensity of our relationship,” he shares. “I’ve been lucky to become very close to Bob, and he’s an important part of my life, not only professionally but also personally. We try to hang out as much as we can. He’s a great listener and a huge source of inspiration. He’s one of the most polite people I’ve ever met. He treats everyone equally, honestly. That’s very inspiring, especially in this day and age.”
At the end of the day, Ramírez is just looking for things that make him happy. “I’m in New York City right now, and I’m playing one of the most important parts that I’ve ever done and working with some of the greatest talents I’ve ever had the opportunity to work with,” he notes. “I just spent an amazing New Year’s Eve with my family. My father almost died this past year, but he made it [to the holidays] with us. I’m at a great moment in my life. It’s as good as it gets. Is it perfect? No, nothing’s perfect, but that’s part of the challenge. You’re always trying to make things a little bit better. Sometimes you nail it, sometimes you don’t, but you wait for the next day to make it better. I take things one day at a time.”
He references the destruction of his homeland, and the constitutional-crisis protests that swept Venezuela in 2017. “I come from a country that was destroyed by bigotry,” Ramírez says. “My country has been basically morally erased. Almost more than three million people have left the country. However, every time I walk through Buenos Aires [in Argentina], I see young people from my country that have fled there just happy that they’re alive, that they have a new slate in front of them. And that is beautiful. It gives me hope.”
We ask if he thinks his innate optimism—his hopefulness—has helped him navigate through life—the belief that if you want things to be wonderful, they will be. He mulls this over, and he agrees. “I think so. I always try to see the glass as half full and not half empty. I mean, there are days when I just see emptiness, sure—it’s not a constant thing—but most of the time, I have to believe that things can improve. Bad things, evil things just tend to be a little bit louder.”
But it’s in his personality to focus on the good, to live in the moment. He asserts that he’s happy with his path: “I’m very lucky. I also work very hard. I have great people around me, and I try to surround myself with people who have the same attitude. I’m at a very interesting moment [in my life]. But you know, if you had asked me 10 years ago, I would have said the same thing. I’m very open to what the day awaits.”
amancalledmark: Christmas came early for me when I was asked to spend a December afternoon in Madrid with the brilliant Penélope Cruz, talking about her role as Donatella Versace in American Crime Story: The Assassination of Gianni Versace for the gloriously revamped #PORTEREdit by Net-A-Porter. Read the cover story and shop the exquisite shoot – shot by Cedric Buchet and styled by Barbara Martelo – via the link in my bio, up🔝. Thank you, @theannabelbrog, @jennifer_dickinson and @kasiahastingsfor sending me on an encounter that surpassed my Almodóvarian imaginings. #acsversace #americancrimestory#americancrimestoryversace@penelopecruzoficial @netaporter
American Crime Story: Versace Recap: “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” Gives Life To One Man And Death To Another
I’m back! After taking a mental health break (those are good for you), yours truly is here to cover this week’s chilling episode of The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story. Before I get started, a million thanks are due to Clare Sidoti for covering last week’s heartbreaking episode for me.
We all need a mental health break every now and then, and perhaps if Andrew Cunanan had taken one, maybe he wouldn’t have become the murdering psychopath that he was. Who am I kidding though? The man was totally born that way, and a lot of people figured that out quickly while some did not and by the time they did, it was too late for them.
I am, of course, referring to Jeff Trail, who met an untimely death last week. This week’s episode focused on his backstory, which mirrored a bit of Gianni’s life at roughly the same time as far as the events and things that mattered to them both goes.
Gather ’round and let’s discuss “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.”
A Brave Choice: Gianni Versace is still alive in this episode (thanks flashbacks), and as always, he was arguing with Donatella about his decision to do an interview with Advocate magazine in which he will openly say that he’s gay. But Donatella is against him and fears a backlash since homophobia is still very much a thing. They compare Versace to Perry Ellis, the designer who walked his final runway show weakened by what was believed to be AIDS shortly before succumbing to the disease; Gianni sees it as the most important show of his career, Donatella as the moment people stopped buying his clothes sadly. Antonio also wants openness and shares his thoughts about the whole situation: For 13 years he’s been mistaken for Gianni’s assistant, and he wants their relationship to be public, which Donatella hates . She sees Antonio as a climber and a leech; the family business should concern only family.
A Man Obsessed: As for our serial killer, Cunanan has having his own crisis, albeit a less glamorous one: He’s on the phone with American Express, asking them if they can expand his credit so he can book a flight to Minneapolis. He has two friends there, he explains, and they owe him money, which will help pay off the card and its new limit, he claims. After getting his yes, Cunanan injects heroin between his toes, and we’re afforded a wider view into his private life: a miserable, bleak apartment, a closet full of well-pressed clothes and a collage of Gianni Versace, including that inevitable Advocate interview. Life isn’t going so well for the unhinged killer as it seems.
Back From The Dead: Shortly after, Cunanan is met at the airport by both David and Gulf War Navy veteran Jeffrey Trail as the series of events in this episode happened before their tragic deaths. Trail explains his leaving the Navy as his choice but there was something else going on with his discharge, and as soon as he links up with David in the airport he makes his feelings for Cunanan clear. “Everything he’s told you about his life is a lie,” Trail says. David feels sorry for him, but Trail has nothing but anger and a debt to pay. Cunanan had “accidentally” tried to out Trail to his father with a postcard signed, “Love, Drew, kiss kiss,” but Trail says he still owes Cunanan, at least enough to let him use his apartment for the weekend so long as they don’t have to interact. Big mistake.
A Surprising Proposal: When Cunanan comes home with David, David finally sees what Trails sees in Cunanan, which is nothing good. Then Cunanan pulls a fast one on David and proposes to him with a $10,000 watch, mind you. Unfortunately for Cunanan, David reacts with shame and pity and humiliation for both of them, which Cunanan ignores and tells him to think about. David does give him an answer later when they meet up with Linda (the same woman who will find Trail’s body, and who will tell the police about Cunanan). David says he’ll never marry him, that their relationship isn’t real. “It’s just another story,” he says, giving the watch back. Cunanan heads back to Trail’s apparent and ends viewing a tape of Trail giving some kind of interview about gays in the military.
Jeff’s Story: We are then taken back to two years earlier to see Trail in the Navy, and witness firsthand the incident he spoke about in the interview, where he saved a gay sailor’s life and it cost him his anonymity as someone mentioned to him about being able to identify gay men by tattoos. Sadly Trail tries, in a panic, to take a knife to the ink on his kneecap. With seemingly no way out, he begins to hang himself in the bathroom, until he changes his mind, gasping for breath, and goes another way: to a gay bar, where he meets Andrew Cunanan. The two become close, close enough that Cunanan tries to talk Trail out of doing the anonymous interview with CBS. But Trail knows: It’s just something he has to do. It’s the same sentiment echoed by Versace: a shared, quiet bravery that makes their deaths all the more aching.
A Tragic End: On the day of his murder, Trail finally has it out with Cunanan. He sees Cunanan for what he is: a selfish fraud. Cunanan tries to say he did a lot of him and gave him his life meaning. “Everything you gave me,” he says, “It means nothing. You have no honor.” Cunanan says he saved him. “You destroyed me!” Trail fires back. Cunanan tells him he loves him, and Trail answers, “No one wants your love.” From there, everything that happened in the previous episode and the events leading up to it add up. Cunanan brings Trail’s gun to David’s house and tells Trail to come and get it. While David goes downstairs to let Trail up to the apartment, Cunanan grabs a hammer. The episode ends with Trail’s sister and her parents leaving a message for him, not knowing that no one will get it.
Quote of the Night:
“You’ve never believed in anyone but yourself.” Trail
‘The Alienist’ doubles in cable Live +7 ratings for Jan. 29-Feb. 4
Episode 3 of the Assassination of Gianni Versace gains 1.939 million viewers and 0.7 in the 18-49 demo for a total of 3.201 million viewers and 1.1 in the 18-49 demo in Live+7 ratings.




‘The Alienist’ doubles in cable Live +7 ratings for Jan. 29-Feb. 4
Penelope Cruz talks making her TV debut as Donatella Versace | 16 February 2018
Penelope Cruz talks making her TV debut as Donatella Versace | 16 February 2018
Penelope Cruz talks making her TV debut as Donatella Versace
Today, platinum-haired powerhouse designer Donatella Versace is one of fashion’s most powerful women, but 20 years ago, she was a bereaved sister fighting for the future of her family’s Medusa-emblazoned megabrand. “Wow, Donatella!” is the first thing Penélope Cruz says to me when I mention her critically acclaimed role in American Crime Story: The Assassination of Gianni Versace, and the exclamation could well serve as the show’s unofficial subtitle. “To keep the company going in the middle of that huge, deep pain she was feeling – that’s real strength,” reveres Cruz.
Proximity to her own siblings is just one of the reasons that 43-year-old Cruz – dressed down today in a gray cashmere hoodie and blue jeans – is happy to be back in her native Madrid. London, where she lived last winter during the filming of Kenneth Branagh’s Murder on the Orient Express, reminded her that she is constitutionally unsuited to gray days and “a 4pm nighttime – it affects the brain,” she says in her accented purr. It was worth enduring a little seasonal affective disorder, though, for the bespoke performances she was able to coax from her co-star Josh Gad, aka the voice of Olaf the snowman in the Disney smash Frozen. Stored “like treasures” on her smartphone, she plays the audio clips to her kids when she’s in need of parental kudos. “I know Olaf, and that makes me the coolest mom in the world,” she beams.
For the rest of us, ‘Friend of Olaf’ doesn’t quite compare to Cruz’s other achievements, such as becoming the first Spanish woman to win an Academy Award, for her role in 2008’s Vicky Cristina Barcelona. As she pointed out in her acceptance speech, this was the stuff of dreams for a girl from the working-class Madrid suburb of Alcobendas, who headed to New York at the age of 19 to study dance. The film also reacquainted the actress with fellow Spaniard and Oscar winner Javier Bardem, who had, once upon a time, played a bullfighter and part-time underwear model opposite Cruz’s feisty factory worker in her breakout film, Jamón, Jamón. The pair married in 2010. So now there are two Oscars to polish – and two children to consider.
Naturally, that phone call was to Actual Donatella. As a red-carpet regular, Cruz has been dressed by the house of Versace on multiple occasions. “I said to Donatella, ‘This is keeping me up at night because it’s such a big responsibility to play someone who’s not only alive, but someone I respect so much.’ And she told me, ‘If somebody’s going to do it, I’m happy that it’s you.’ Her words gave me the freedom to do this. I think she could hear in my voice that everything was going to be done from a place of respect.”
Mastering Donatella’s voice, of course, was a key part of characterization. This was Cruz’s second Italian job – she starred alongside Sophia Loren in the 2009 musical Nine – but the designer’s distinctive manner of speaking was a departure. “Her voice is much lower than mine, and I worked for months and months with the voice coach Tim Monich. I was not interested in doing a caricature, an imitation; I want you to feel her there. Everything about Donatella is rock and roll – even when she’s just sitting in a chair, she does it with an attitude.”
To keep the attitude alive in the breaks between their scenes together, she and Édgar Ramírez, who plays Gianni, turned to music: “We listened to a lot of Prince, and a lot of opera. We thought that both were very Versace.”
Whereas attitudes towards race churned at the core of The People v. O.J. Simpson, sex and sexuality pervade this sun-drenched second season of American Crime Story. Gianni Versace was killed outside his Miami mansion by Andrew Cunanan (played by Glee alumnus Darren Criss), a fantasist who preyed on gay men during a time of widespread homophobia, and whose fascination with celebrity culture morphed into a murderous obsession.
“We’re telling a story that makes you think a lot about the craziness that’s going on in the world today,” muses Cruz. “It makes you question the concept of fame, and how some teenagers and very young people grow up idealizing something that is poison.” She’s concerned that social media is exposing us to pressures that were previously the exclusive preserve of celebrities who are, she says, at least somewhat better prepared. “It doesn’t matter if you are exposed to 200 people or two million – if you’re not equipped to deal with the pressure of opinion, manipulation and bullying, it’s dangerous.”
It’s impossible to touch on the topic of fame’s dark side without alighting on Hollywood’s recent sexual harassment scandal. After all, Cruz won her Oscar for her performance in a film written and directed by Woody Allen and produced by Harvey Weinstein.
I feel her hand tap my kneecap. “I know that you are going in that direction,” she says, before adding that she had no inkling of the scale of Hollywood’s problems prior to the revelations in the New York Times. She was aware, she clarifies, that certain high-profile men were “difficult to deal with on a professional level; that they were tricky, or did some bullying – that much was clear. But these other things that have come to light…” Her eyes widen.
She knows, of course, that Hollywood has very different attitudes towards men and women. “Since the age of 25, [journalists] have been asking me if I’m afraid of aging. It’s a crazy thing to ask, and I’ve always refused to answer. They would never ask a man such a question.
“Obviously that kind of thing is on a different scale to what we were just talking about, but everything builds up, and I consider it to be part of an overall suppression of women,” says an impassioned Cruz.
She’s emphatic that the recent disclosure of widespread abuse via the #MeToo movement must result in actions as well as words. “It has to change the rules of our industry and all the other industries in which women are being repressed in so many different ways. It cannot just be something that’s there to fill the news for a few months before we move on to something else.”
With her own daughter and son, Cruz says she’s found a novel way of shifting the gender narrative, quite literally. “Fairy tales matter so much because these are the first stories that you hear from the mouths of your parents,” she says. “So, when I read fairy tales to my kids at night, I’m always changing the endings – always, always, always, always. F*****g Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty and all of this – there’s a lot of machismo in those stories. That can have an effect on the way that kids see the world. If you’re not careful, they start thinking: ‘Oh, so the men get to decide everything.’”
Cruz’s subversive fairy-tale heroines, she says, are prone to declining proposals of marriage, or making the proposals themselves. An example? “In my version of Cinderella, when the prince says, ‘Do you wanna marry?’ she says, ‘No, thanks, ’cos I don’t want to be a princess. I want to be an astronaut, or a chef.’” Cruz laughs wickedly and closes an imaginary book.
No doubt, Donatella would approve.
Penelope Cruz talks making her TV debut as Donatella Versace
Big Dreams Are Deadly in American Crime Story Season 2
Andrew Cunanan, who shot and killed Gianni Versace on the front steps of the designer’s palatial estate on the morning of July 15, 1997, was good at bragging. In the second episode of The Assassination of Gianni Versace, a new FX miniseries about the crime and the years that led up to it, Cunanan (Darren Criss) lands in Miami’s South Beach. It is the last stop on a three-month killing spree, in which he has already murdered four men in three different states. Boasting energetically to a new friend, he claims he was once engaged to Versace (he wasn’t), who took him to dinner at the fabled San Francisco restaurant Stars (he didn’t). He launches into a reverie on Versace’s gift for design, and when his friend replies with, “Sounds real nice,” Cunanan is not pleased. “I don’t see something nice. I see the man behind it. A great creator. The man I could have been.”
Cunanan’s curdled sense of self-importance runs through the next seven episodes of the series, which travel backward from Cunanan’s crime spree to his troubled childhood. His parents, a depressive Italian-American mother and a Filipino immigrant father, poured all their hopes into young Andrew. He slept in the cavernous master bedroom by himself and attended a swanky private school in La Jolla, California, even though his parents could barely afford the tuition. He wore a red leather jumpsuit to school on occasion and was voted “Most Likely to Be Remembered” in his senior yearbook, but his own page gave almost no information about him. Instead, he inserted just one quote, attributed to the French King Louis XV: “Après moi, le déluge.” After me, the flood.
Cunanan’s first victims were Jeff Trail (Finn Wittrock) and David Madson (Cody Fern), two young gay men he met through the San Diego and San Francisco nightlife scenes when he was in his twenties. Trail, a former naval officer, befriended him when his ship was docked in the San Diego harbor. Madson, a promising young architect from Minnesota, and Cunanan had met in San Francisco in 1995, when Cunanan spotted him at a restaurant bar and sent a cocktail over. That night, according to writer Maureen Orth’s account (the FX show is partially based on Vulgar Favors, her 1999 best-seller about Cunanan’s crimes), the pair had a “nonsexual sleepover” inside the Mandarin Oriental hotel, where Andrew was staying thanks to an allowance he collected from a wealthy, older La Jolla businessman named Norman Blachford.
Blachford, whose partner of 26 years had just died when he met Cunanan, allowed him to move in to his mansion and decorate it, giving him credit cards, a $33,000 Infiniti, and a $2,500 living allowance. Cunanan was apparently ashamed of being a “kept” man but also flaunted his nouveau riches, spending lavishly on friends and acquaintances. When he met Madson, Cunanan felt a genuine emotional connection and obsessed over the architect romantically for the next two years. By the time Trail took a blue-collar job in Minneapolis, where Madson also lived, Blachford had dropped Cunanan, who was now alone. Cunanan flew to Minnesota, killed Trail with a claw hammer inside Madson’s airy loft, and then shot and killed Madson four days later on the banks of East Rush Lake, an hour outside town—perhaps out of jealousy or despair.
The Assassination of Gianni Versace sticks with Cunanan throughout his spree. Versace (Edgar Ramírez) and his longtime partner, Antonio (Ricky Martin), only appear intermittently, like pops from a flashbulb rather than fully developed characters. This feels purposeful: Cunanan was preoccupied with fame, perhaps to the point of psychopathy, and he put celebrity on a pedestal. He saw himself as destined for greatness, and it is this tragic misconception of himself that makes his story so very American. Versace was an openly gay immigrant, succeeding at the highest levels of American business. This must have enraged Cunanan, the openly gay son of an immigrant, who saw in Versace the anointed prince that he longed to be.
Shortly before the first episode aired, members of the Versace family distanced themselves from the new show, which they thought “should only be considered as a work of fiction.” In Vulgar Favors, Orth asserts that Cunanan had met Versace in San Francisco around 1990, when the designer created the costumes for a San Francisco Opera production of Capriccio. Although it’s not clear whether the two met only in passing or were much better acquainted, we see this encounter in a scene in The Assassination of Gianni Versace. If they had dated, as Cunanan often boasted to friends, Cunanan’s violent act may have been personal: Some reporters at the time speculated—with a homophobic slant—that Cunanan may have been an “HIV killer,” out to get revenge on former boyfriends. (A medical examiner later testified that he was not in fact HIV positive.) Versace’s family holds that he never met Cunanan, that the designer was a victim of his own fame and of one man’s twisted rampage against a sparkling culture that rejected him.
The second installment in Ryan Murphy’s American Crime Story anthology series, the show doesn’t aim to establish which version is true so much as to expose the rot at the center of American culture—horrors that could only happen here. (Last season followed the trial of O.J. Simpson, dissecting the racial and gendered complexities of the case.) What we do know, from Orth’s book and from several other reports following the murders, was that Cunanan’s life was one of deception and delusion, of falsehoods and fibs and chicanery. He wanted to travel in the highest echelons of society, clinking glasses with socialites and captains of industry and cavorting on yachts. He didn’t like to work but loved to party, a less talented Mr. Ripley.
Cunanan wanted to travel in the highest echelons of society, clinking glasses with socialites and cavorting on yachts.
Throughout, Cunanan has to confront the mismatch between his aspirations and reality. From an early age, he bluffs about his background, telling classmates he is the son of wealthy aesthetes, that his father, Modesto (Jon Jon Briones), once served as Imelda Marcos’s personal pilot and that his mother has filled his lunch box with lobster tails. In the penultimate episode, we learn that Modesto has had to flee the country after embezzling fortunes from his clients. When Cunanan, now in his teens, goes to Manila to find him, Modesto is living in squalid conditions. Criss and Briones stare at each other for long minutes in this scene, filmed inside a tiny tropical shack. Cunanan realizes his father’s success was a lie, and that all of the confidence and self-regard he has absorbed from his bellowing belief must also be fraudulent.
Many people would experience this sort of trauma—the explosion of the family unit, the disgrace of a parent—and cave inward. Cunanan does the opposite. When he returns from Manila, his lies only get bigger. He claims that his father owns a pineapple plantation, that as son and heir, he is set to inherit millions. He tells friends that he has family in New York, Paris, and Rome, and that Signore Versace has asked him to travel around the world with him designing costumes. Even before the period when a quick Google search could swiftly puncture outrageous claims, all this bragging raises suspicion. In a conversation Madson imagines shortly before he is killed, he asks Cunanan to tell him one true thing about his life. It doesn’t happen. Cunanan was like a Gatsby so enchanted with the green light that he would kill for it, a man so bedeviled by the American dream that he became a walking nightmare.
Because the show tells Cunanan’s story backward, we often see his victims die before we get to spend time with them. We see Cunanan in the days leading up to the murder of Versace, then we see him bludgeon Lee Miglin (Mike Farrell), a prominent Chicago real estate developer, in Miglin’s garage. We see him shoot a cemetery caretaker in Pennsylvania just so that he can steal his red pickup truck. When these victims appear again on-screen, beaming and unaware of their bloody future, it can feel like agony. They die in front of you all over again, and you are mourning them even while they are simply talking and moving.
The best episode of the series is “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,” which follows Jeff Trail through the trauma of being gay in the military. In one scene, he tries to hang himself in uniform; in another gruesome moment, he takes a box cutter and begins to slice a tattoo from his calf, after hearing that officials can identify homosexuals by their body markings. The anguish and shame that Trail feels is devastating, especially as we know what fate lies ahead. He is forced to leave the Navy, but as he leaves, he gives an interview to a news program about the struggles of being gay and wanting to serve your country. The fact that this act of bravery—and its promise of a new, more open life—so closely precedes his death haunts the episode.
No one is safe in Cunanan’s world, but then, perhaps, it was never safe to be gay in 1990s America, even for gold-plated celebrities like Versace. The media of the time blamed the victim for his own murder as much as it blamed Cunanan. While Cunanan was “a killer on the loose,” Edward J. Ingebretsen has written in At Stake: Monsters and the Rhetoric of Fear in Public Culture, Versace was seen as “a different threat entirely, that of a profligate and well-traveled member of the upper class, whose mobility, like the killer’s, is also the stuff of myth.” The media wrapped Versace’s and Cunanan’s stories together, frequently drawing parallels between the two: both gay, fashion-obsessed men, enchanted by wealth. Yet they couldn’t have been more different—one of them created, while the other destroyed.
In the end, The Assassination of Gianni Versace belongs to Cunanan, because it is a singular story: the story of a boy who wanted everything in the world but never figured out how to get it. This is an American crime story, in that we see in the rearview how the consumerist ’90s could warp those who treated celebrity like a religion, how some were even willing to commit vile acts for a taste of rarefied air. Very little is, at its core, more American than that.
‘He was willing to kill to become noticed’: How the US’s most elusive killer came to the small screen
The first ‘American Crime Story’ series centred on OJ Simpson – now, Gianni Versace’s murder is on the agenda. Jane Mulkerrins reports
In the summer of 1997, Gianni Versace was at the top of his game. The company he had built from scratch from one boutique in Milan in 1978 was valued at $807 million, and had 130 stores across the world. In under 20 years, this son of a Calabrian dressmaker had transformed the industry with his brazenly sexy, luxury fashion and couture, breaking down the traditional barriers between conservative high fashion and popular culture.
The front rows of his fashion shows were filled with all of his A-list friends, including Diana, Princess of Wales, Elton John and Michael Jackson, while on the runway supermodels such as Naomi Campbell, Linda Evangelista and Christy Turlington walked for him.
But on the morning of July 15, Versace was shot dead on the steps of his mansion on Miami’s South Beach by Andrew Cunanan, who it later transpired had also murdered four other men, at least two of them gay. Cunanan, a notorious liar, was also gay but initially struggled to come to terms with it, and unable to find a job after dropping out of college, had taken to befriending rich gay men to fund a wealthy lifestyle he was unable to afford.
“It was a political murder,” believes Ryan Murphy, who is recreating the story in the second instalment of his American Crime Story series, The Assassination of Gianni Versace. “[Cunanan] was a person who targeted people specifically to shame them. He wanted to out them and to have a form of payback for a life that he felt he could not live.”
The Assassination of Gianni Versace follows the extraordinary success of Murphy’s first American Crime Story series, The People vs OJ Simpson, an account of the trial of the former NFL superstar for the murders of Nicole Brown Simpson and Ron Goldman. It won nine Emmys and two Golden Globes for its unflinching confrontation with the police corruption, racism and Nineties celebrity culture that helped lead to OJ’s acquittal.
The second instalment – based on the book Vulgar Favors: Andrew Cunanan, Gianni Versace, and the Largest Failed Manhunt in US History, by former Vanity Fair writer Maureen Orth – has been adapted by the British screenwriter Tom Rob Smith, who has flipped the story to tell it backwards, starting with Versace’s murder, in order to understand how Cunanan could have evaded arrest for so long.
“The idea behind American Crime Story was that every season should be not just about a specific crime, but about a crime that America is guilty of, something that implicates us culturally,” says executive producer Nina Jacobson. With the OJ trial, the “cultural crime” was the racism of the LAPD, who were accused of attempting to racially incriminate Simpson. With Versace’s murder, Murphy and his team believe the crime is homophobia, including within the police who were criticised for not prioritising an investigation into Cunanan’s previous victims.
“It’s about the degree of shame and secrecy among gay people in America in the Nineties, in the wake of the Aids epidemic and the difficulty of living an authentic life,” says Jacobson. “It is very easy to think that the way it is now is the way it always has been. But there have been so many changes, in terms of visibility of the gay and trans community, compared to 20 years ago.”
Using Versace’s story as a base, The Assassination of Gianni Versace weaves in other narrative strands that delineate specific aspects of recent history. The fifth episode, for example, examines the impact of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell”, the US policy, introduced in Clinton’s presidency, that attempted to improve life for gay people in the military so long as they hid their sexuality, while openly banning gay people from serving. The episode zones in on the story of one former Marine who left the military because of his sexuality and became one of Cunanan’s victims after he spurned his advances. While that episode was being filmed, Donald Trump was revealing his new plan to ban transgender people from the military.
The series also serves as a dark comment on the celebrity culture that blossomed in the late Nineties, with Versace and his love for the spotlight right at the epicentre. “You see it in the frenzy when Versace is murdered,” says Jacobson.
“Something that should be an outpouring of grief and horror is turned into a commercialised event. People were stealing X-rays, just to have a connection to a famous person.”
Cunanan, too, was obsessed with status and wealth. “One of his traits early on is this absolute infatuation with fame; he was willing to kill for it,” says Orth. “What he was willing to do to become noticed, I don’t see it as that different to making a sex tape, like the Kardashians, or becoming US president because you were a reality TV star.”
Filmed, in part, on location in the Versace mansion – a lush, colourful, wildly over-the-top property – the show has a particularly colourful dramatis personae. Edgar Ramirez plays the designer, and Ricky Martin his long-time partner, the former model, Antonio D’Amico. Glee star Darren Criss is Cunanan, while Penélope Cruz plays the imperious Donatella Versace, Gianni’s sister, business partner and muse. It’s suffused with the same glossy eroticism that Versace epitomised.
There were tales of torrid parties and orgies behind closed doors, which Versace would task D’Amico with arranging, and which are referenced, although not shown, in the show. Such assertions may go some way to explaining the Versace family’s statement that Murphy’s drama “should only be considered as a work of fiction”.
Martin, however, believes that such alleged details of Versace’s private life should not be deemed shocking. “There is nothing wrong with a relationship being open,” he says. “You have got to evolve. And if this is what is needed for the relationship to be more solid, then why not try it?”
While the series will no doubt rekindle interest in the personal story of Versace, his fashion legacy remains undimmed. To mark 20 years since her brother’s murder, Donatella launched the Versace Tribute Collection at Milan Fashion Week last September. But the clothes were overshadowed by the finale: five of the original supermodels – Cindy Crawford, Naomi Campbell, Claudia Schiffer, Helena Christensen and the former French First Lady Carla Bruni – took to the catwalk. Social media lost its mind. Gianni would, no doubt, have heartily approved.