June 1995, Milan. Gianni Versace “casually” informs Donatella that he’s “arranged an interview” with The Advocate. When she doesn’t react, he mumbles, “For gay readers.” “To say what?”, she asks challengingly. “That the built-ins on this season of ACS are as envy-making as your stereotypically Versace pink butterfly blazer is hideous,” Gianni does not say, although he could,
because these floor-to-ceiling jobs make me want to book a ticket to Italy like now. Mystifyingly, there is no sideways-rolling ladder with which to reach tomes on the higher shelves, but of course this isn’t the point of the scene; the point is that Gianni has never said in so many words that he’s gay, and that Donatella doesn’t think he should do so “to print, to publish.” Antonio D’Amico smirks as Donatella picks up her cigarettes and crisply points out that she handles publicity for the company. Gianni shrugs disingenuously that it’s not about her, but Donatella isn’t going for it: it’s about more than him. She’s annoyed that he didn’t consult her, and now he’s annoyed, clanking down his espresso cup and snarking, “What would you advise?” Yes, Antonio echoes, “What would you advise?” Donatella side-eyes him and theorizes aloud that it’s Antonio’s idea, that he wants to “be famous” as “Versace’s lover.” For 13 years everyone’s mistaken him for Gianni’s assistant, he grumbles, and Donatella snorts that apparently his pride is more important than the company. The sniping continues, Antonio saying he’s not trying to become a public figure: “I know my place. Unlike you.” Donatella cocks her head and asks at four degrees Kelvin, “And what is my place,” at which time Gianni bangs a chair and snaps, “Enough!” No more fighting over this: it was his idea.
He asks Donatella to walk with him, and she stalks after him with that weird colicky gait women get who wear too-high heels every day. He wants her support, but she notes that his company supports all the people working around them – and they have stores opening in countries where homosexuality is illegal. What if he’s denied a visa? What if the stores can’t open? Gianni is momentarily taken aback, and asks what she really thinks could happen. She says the rock stars, the actors, “the royalty whose endorsements we cherish” might not want to associate with the brand. Gianni shrugs, “Unless we keep Elton,” but Donatella doesn’t see the humor; he lives “in isolation,” and has forgotten what the real world is like. He tries to argue that the women they design for are “fearless,” and when Donatella says it’s not the same, he asks, “Is the brand Versace braver than the man?” She doesn’t have an answer for that, but when he stalks to the other side of the atelier, she follows, asking if he’s angry at her, or the world. She goes on to wonder what his “admission” will cost when they take the company public. Gianni says, not terribly forcefully, that she’s exaggerating, but she reminds him of Perry Ellis’s final show, Ellis dying of AIDS, too weak to walk on his own. “His most important show” in many ways, Gianni murmurs, and certainly it is as far as its value as a reference in this season of ACS – Ellis, who died in 1986, remained in resolute denial about his illness and that of his longtime lover, whom he had seen into the ground earlier that year; at that point in the life of both the epidemic and the culture, that approach was probably the default, at least for public consumption – but Donatella’s point is that, after that, people stopped buying Ellis’s clothes. “Some people,” Gianni says. Many people, Donatella retorts. Some, Gianni insists, and walks away from her again.
Why now, she wants to know. “Because I was sick. And I didn’t die,” Gianni says. It’s a miracle. He has a second chance now. Why is he alive – to be afraid? No. He’s here, and he “must use it.”
After the title card, we return to 1997 – four days before Jeffrey Trail’s murder. In a crappish motel in San Diego, Andrew Cunanan is seated in grimy underpants on a nubby chair surrounded by trash bags, prepping a needle full of drugs and grandly reassuring an American Express account representative that he just needs enough money to get to Minneapolis.
He’s going to visit his “two best friends,” one of whom owes him more than ten grand; then he can go back to being the best customer ever. As the Amex rep skeptically repeats that he’s asking them to extend his credit so that he can…repair his credit, the camera lingers pointedly on an expensive watch on the floor. Cunanan distractedly taps the needle to rid it of bubbles as the rep verbally eye-rolls that she has to consult her supervisor. Cunanan chirps that he’ll hold, and injects himself between his toes. I assume this is included to show both his alleged drug involvement and his much-ballyhooed ability to charm all and sundry, but I ran into some American Express credit trouble in college and was on the line with their reps almost daily, assuring them that my latest low-double-digit payment from my pizza-delivery job was winging its way towards them and please don’t make me declare bankruptcy as a 20-year-old. Like, if I convinced them to let me chip down my balance 13 bucks at a time? I’m…not that charming. This is eminently doable by civilians.
Cunanan gets up, surveys his closet, and starts taking down armfuls of suits and shirts, still on their hangers. Do people actually do this? It seems like an only-onscreen thing. In any case, the removal of the last armload of blazers reveals a mini-crazy wall consisting of the very Advocate article the Versaces were arguing about before.
That pic at the top left, that looks like IRL Cunanan, should maybe have been cut, no?
In a warehouse, Jeff Trail is hoisting heavy canisters onto shelves. Later, he’s not laughing alone without salad at a picnic table above the work floor when a co-worker joins him. Jeff notices the guy’s tattoo as an armed-forces design; the guy notices him noticing and asks if he served. He did, in the navy, and kind of overshares about the USS Gridley and how he’s sort of sad she got decommissioned. So he misses it? Every day. Why’d he leave? “I dunno,” Jeff grits, and admits he regrets it, but when the guy begins to say he was never going to become an officer, it gets awk in a hurry with Jeff interrupting that he was an officer, and adding that his brother and sister are both in the armed forces. “You married?”, the guy asks, probably concluding that it was Jeff’s spouse who wanted him to leave the service, then. Jeff parries that, but the guy asks again why he left, especially to work “in a place like this.” This place is okay, Jeff glares, but the guy’s like, but for an Annapolis grad?
Jeff, icily: “I made the decision.” The guy tries to smooth it over by saying his wife always tells him he asks too many questions, but Jeff just repeats over him, “I made the decision – okay?” The guy apologizes for offending him and offers to “leave it there,” but Jeff can’t, leaping to his feet and shouting again that he made the decision, loud enough for other co-workers to look up from their lunches.
After lunch, Jeff is loading canisters, zoned out, when he’s told “an Andrew called” – he says he’ll see Jeff at the airport.
That’s where we see him next, as he greets David Madson with a fond arm-squeeze. David didn’t think Jeff would come. Neither did Jeff, Jeff says disgustedly. David doesn’t get why Cunanan’s coming there, but Jeff’s like, he has nothing and no one and everything he’s told you is a lie. David gets that, right? David: “Do you even like him?”
Jeff sighs that Cunanan was “there for” him once, and he owes Cunanan, but it’s not the same. David feels “kinda sorry” for him. “Don’t.” He’s lonely. “For a reason,” Jeff says, adding that after this “for old times’ sake” weekend, he’s done with Cunanan. David’s like, he’s here for three nights, ugh, and Jeff says Cunanan can have his apartment, Jeff will stay with his sister, and not to victim-blame here, but if you don’t want to deal with Cunanan because he’s a grifter, you put him up in a hotel, not at your house when you can’t keep an eye on him and/or your belongings. Cut to Cunanan emerging from the crowd with a step almost Michigan J. Frog in its peppiness as Jeff asks David not to tell Cunanan where he is: “He’s so crazy, he might just show up.”
Asterisking this point is Cunanan’s desperately cheerful sing-songing of “The three amigooooos!” and overly handsy hug of David. He hugs Jeff next, choosing to ignore Jeff’s stiff reaction, and burbles about how much fun they’ll have this weekend: “It’ll be just like old times.” Jeff’s all, nah, and says he can’t hang out with them. Cunanan asks why not. “Aside from everything you’ve done?” David looks down as Cunanan feigns ignorance.
Jeff says he’s away ‘til Sunday at a sales conference, but he’ll be sure to send Cunanan a postcard. Cunanan lamely asks if Jeff’s “still annoyed” about the postcard he “accidentally” sent to Jeff’s dad signed “Drew, kiss kiss.” “I made a mistake!” David rolls not just his eyes but his entire head as Jeff brings out his keys, saying Cunanan can stay there tomorrow night. Cunanan doesn’t get why he’s not staying with David; David says without much conviction that he’s busy “seeing a friend.” “Wh-who, what friend?” Cunanan presses, but despite this inability or unwillingness to take a hint re: David wanting to get it in with, y’know, not him – or, more to the point, David’s obvious trepidation at drawing that line brightly, or at all – Jeff still hands Cunanan his keys, then walks off without another word. Again, I don’t mean to cast aspersions on Jeff Trail; nothing he did either doomed him or could have saved him, or any of the others. I’ve found myself in similar situations, feeling like it’s easier to just go along this one last time and then get down to the ghosting once s/he’s left town – especially when s/he’s presenting as a dishonest but not noticeably dangerous asshole. I have the benefit of a hindsight of which Jeff was deprived by Cunanan, as well. That’s the frustration: that it can’t be undone, couldn’t have been undone. Or that maybe it could have gone differently – if Cunanan weren’t so easily able to leverage the doors of the closet against his targets.
Sometimes they swing back and hit him, though, as we’re about to see when he and David return to David’s loft. David snuggles with Prints for a minute, and Cunanan takes the opportunity to fish that expensive watch out of the top of his duffel and make a big show of having “gotten” (read: stolen, we’ll no doubt see in a future ep) David something. “Open it!” he says with an antsy body twitch that is almost endearing, except that he’s horrid. David seems to know that it contains an emotional bomb as well as whatever’s literally inside, and is initially speechless at the sight of the watch. Cunanan has assumed that awkward stiff-armed stance again
as David struggles for words. I’ll note here Orth’s Vanity Fair piece’s assertion that, “though Madson was at least two boyfriends away from Cunanan by the end of April, he continued to accept gifts from” Cunanan. I still haven’t read Orth’s book, and perhaps she’s more nuanced therein, but I’m finding implied judgment in that locution, to the effect that David “shouldn’t” have taken gifts from a man he wasn’t involved with, because it sent mixed signals – or meant that David wasn’t a quote-unquote perfect victim, the saint the newsmagazines are always looking for. Well, it probably did send mixed signals, and David probably wasn’t perfect, because none of us is – but here again we see Cunanan’s victims a) not knowing what we know, because it’s not what anyone tends to assume, and/or b) accepting overly generous gestures from Cunanan because it’s less uncomfortable than rejecting him or questioning the gifts’ provenance. The scene we’re watching/cringing at here perfectly illuminates not only why Cunanan’s victims might have had over-the-top “presents” from the killer among their possessions, but why Cunanan for the most part continued to skate on outrageous behavior.
Behavior like…refusing to read the room, because when David snaps the watch box closed and pulls a nauseated face, then goes to refill Prints’s water bowl, Cunanan bustles over, picks up the box, and goes into cheesy-proposal mode. David’s response is a glorious “ehh-whennnnhhhh?!” look from Cody Fern
at which Cunanan has the presence of mind to stammer that he doesn’t have to answer right now, he can think about it “for the next few days.” David’s like, it’s against the law, so. Cunanan shrugs: “Who cares about that?” “Everyone,” David exasps. “Well, I…don’t!” Cunanan says, and Darren Criss throws in a tiny shoulder shimmy here that is so eloquent vis-à-vis Cunanan thinking this damn-the-homophobia-torpedeos declaration will win him his case. David’s like, again: no, “it’s insane,” and Fern’s unwittingly Australian inflection of “in-sein” is rather winning. Cunanan is hell-bent on ordering a sweet roll, however, and babbles that they can call it a commitment ceremony, then. David tries to explain that “it’s not – the term” as Cunanan Manson-lampses at him and blares, “Then what is it.” “The idea of you and me,” David finally is able to say. His expression unchanging, Cunanan pauses, then tells David to keep thinking about it over the weekend, and then “if for whatever reason it’s a no,” he can keep the watch as a thanks. …“Whatever reason,” indeed. Thanks for what, David asks, exhausted. For turning Cunanan’s life around, Cunanan duhs, then shares that he got a new job, a claim David doesn’t believe; as Cunanan keeps lying about his new condo in San Francisco, David wearily closes his eyes and nods to himself. “I’m a whole new person!” Cunanan desperates, fastening the watch onto David’s wrist. “And all I need – is someone to be a new person for.”
At his sister Laura’s gorgeously porched house, Jeff surveys the family pictures (including one of Laura in uniform) in the hall, then takes the linens he’ll be sleeping on from his pregnant sister; he doesn’t want to be any trouble. “It’s no trouble, I love that you’re here. Why are you here?” his sister asks, easing herself onto a sofa. Jeff admits he’s avoiding Cunanan. She snarks on Cunanan’s postcard “mistake” trying to out Jeff to their dad. Jeff says grimly that he’s not going to hang out with Cunanan, but Laura has Cunanan’s number and Jeff’s, telling Jeff he shouldn’t let Cunanan have “that kind of control” over him and that Cunanan “was threatening” Jeff with the postcard. Why doesn’t Jeff just tell their parents he’s gay himself? Jeff knows what they’re going to think. “They love you,” Laura snorts, which, no doubt, but also: easy for the het sibling who’s furnished grandchildren to say, even if she’s correct. Jeff changes tacks, saying it’s not the right time: they’re so happy about the baby. It’s her baby, Laura says, so as his superior officer she’s ordering him to do it. “I’ll think about it,” Jeff says. “You’ve thought about it enough,” Laura grumbles. Again: yeah, probably, and she’s not a bad guy here, but…you know. Your loved ones’ coming out is not about you. Jeff rolls his eyes, then tells Laura’s belly, “I’m looking forward to being an uncle, so. Much.” He smooches the belly – aw – and rests his head on it, listening…
…which makes the overlapping cut to the polka palace in the next scene pretty hilare and cuts the sadness nicely. Too bad we’re about to be marinating in uncomf. David and Cunanan climb the stairs into the joint, Cunanan babbling that it’s such an original idea, and it feels “special – memorable.” David quashes that line of thinking ASAP, saying it wasn’t his choice – his friend picked it. Said friend is his co-worker Melinda, who appears out of the crowd to greet David, and he introduces Cunanan as his “friend, Andrew.” “’Friend,’” Cunanan repeats with a full “this guy, amirite” head-and-shoulders eye-roll, and says he’s more than a friend. Everyone’s “…k” faces do not deter him from grabbing David’s wrist, still with the watch on it, and raising it to eye level to brag that he got it for David “to show how much he means to me.” He adds quote casually, “It’s worth ten thousand dollars.” Melinda says, “Wow,” and shoots David a quick, merry “by which I mean ‘wow, you’re gauche’” look. The silence in which nobody knows how to respond to Cunanan goes on for quite some time…
…and then we mercifully cut to David and Melinda polka-ing amateurishly and laughing a lot. Then it’s into slo-mo, and the distorting of the soundtrack, as Cunanan tries to arrange his face into a “isn’t this a hoot” shape but ends up Starmanning, as usual.
Later, David orders more beer and speculatively watches Cunanan from the bar as Melinda heroically tries to make conversation: “So what do you do?” Almost daring her to call him on it, Cunanan lies that he makes movie sets; he’s working on Titanic down in Mexico. “And you’re here for David?” “There’s no one I love more,” Cunanan confides, which at least is in the same area code as true. David returns with three steins, and Melinda fills him in, giving gorgeous “pfft” tone to “We were just talking about movie sets in Mexico!” “Mexico?” David says, glaring at Cunanan, who thinks for a second before grabbing David’s hands: “Let’s go dance!” Melinda watches them carefully as David gets free of Cunanan’s grasp and says he doesn’t need the whole weekend to think about it. “I can’t hear you, the music’s too loud!” Cunanan says through a desperately fake chuckle. David tries to repeat himself, but Cunanan’s sticking with the can’t-hear-you bit, bobbing frantically and shouting, “Let’s just dance!” They can’t get married, David says. “Even if we could – we can’t.” The smile drains off Cunanan’s face as David says he’s really sorry, he doesn’t know what else to say. He leaves Cunanan standing on the dance floor, other couples whirling around him. Oof.
At the loft the next morning, Cunanan is sitting, staring into space, still wearing the same clothes from the previous night. David comes out in a tee and boxers and asks if he couldn’t sleep. “No.” David half-rolls his eyes and goes into the bedroom to fish the watch out of his top drawer; the camera pans up to find Cunanan in the doorway, having Nosferatu’d his way into frame once again. David startles, then murmurs that “there’s something great” about Cunanan; he’s always thought that. He’s generous. But it’s not right to keep the watch, he says, handing the box to Cunanan. “I know money is tight.” Cunanan badly lies that it isn’t. David says it’s okay to ask for help instead of telling “all these crazy stories,” but Cunanan isn’t going to admit to anything, asking through another super-fake chuckle, “What crazy stories?” David girds his loins and runs down the list: he’s not making movie sets, he doesn’t have a condo in San Fran…he’s unhappy. He should let David help him the way Cunanan has helped other people. Cunanan looks genuinely baffled and fearful at this idea as David clarifies that he doesn’t mean by marrying Cunanan – that’s not possible, it’s not real. It’s not what, Cunanan prompts, giving him the Manson lamps. “Another crazy story,” David says reluctantly, and holds the box out for Cunanan to take.
Cut to both men heading for the elevator. As the door is closing on Cunanan, David stops it with his arm and guiltily says he can cancel on his “friend” for that night, if Cunanan needs to talk, “about anything.” Cunanan tries for cheery, but ends up sounding robotic as he says again that he’s starting a new life in San Francisco. “I need someone to share it with.” David pulls a “yeah, still a hard pass” face and says he’ll see Cunanan Sunday. Now it’s Cunanan’s turn to stop the door with his arm, and his face has darkened to one of Dawsonian accusation: “Is it Jeff? That friend you’re seeing?” David waits a beat too long before denying it. Andrew releases the door silently. David turns away from the elevator all “Fuuuuuu.”
It isn’t Jeff, but whoever it is, he’s cozy with David That Way when they return to David’s building – as Cunanan can see from his creeper stakeout spot across the street. When the other two head inside, he marches robotically across the street for a closer view.
From there, he heads to Jeff’s apartment. It takes him a second to get the lights working, but alas, almost no time after that to come across the photo of Jeff and David, Prints nestled between them, tucked into the frame of another photo on Jeff’s bureau.
The picture looks merely friendly, to my eye, but Cunanan is already paranoid about the possibility of a…"Tradson,“ I guess, and starts rifling through Jeff’s drawers. It’s not totally clear what he’s looking for – proof of a relationship; blackmail fodder a la what he unearthed at David’s in the previous episode – but when he pulls out Jeff’s Navy uniform box from the closet, it seems like it’s maybe both. Disrespectfully donning Jeff’s hat, he digs under the dress whites and finds an unmarked VHS cassette. It’s a news broadcast, interviewing active-duty servicemen about gays in the military, and the interviewee onscreen drops a few f-bombs as Cunanan keeps going through Jeff’s stuff, eventually finding the gun. He’s quite expertly loading a clip into the gun when he hears Jeff’s voice coming from the TV; it’s Jeff, in an identity-masking shadow, telling an interviewer that any gays in the military must serve in the closet. Cunanan kneels in front of the set and strokes Jeff’s darkened face as Jeff says his career is probably over anyway, because he saved a gay fellow sailor from getting beaten to death by his peers, which tipped off said peers that Jeff too is gay. Cunanan sights the gun at the TV. Jeff, near tears, confesses that he’s dreamt of taking that "good thing” he did back, letting the other guy die, so that the others wouldn’t “suspect” him. (This interview did take place, around the time Jeff met Cunanan; the segment of it I found doesn’t contain any mention of this incident.)
After the break, we’re in 1995 in San Diego, aboard the Gridley. Jeff heads below decks, and comes upon a fight, or rather one seaman punching another repeatedly in the face. Jeff pulls the puncher off, and the puncher says that “that f***** brushed against” him. Jeff helps the punchee, Williams, to his feet, and as the puncher is threatening Williams if he ever touches the puncher again, Williams knocks him down with a right cross and sneers, “I’m sorry – did I touch you?” Jeff scatters the combatants and their audience.
That night, a hand puts a bar of soap in a sock (we don’t see the item, but per my father, this is how barracks justice was handed down as of the sixties, so let’s assume), and Jeff awakens to hear the sounds of a blanket partyalready in progress. It’s Williams, no surprise, and the gag they’ve put on him is no match for his wails of agony. Jeff rushes over to break this up too, telling the participants to scatter or they’ll get written up, and helps Williams into the shower to clean up – and to convince him to go to a doctor, which Williams doesn’t want, because he’ll have to write a report and make a complaint. “You’re hurt, you need a doctor,” Jeff says patiently, but Williams hollers, “I need out! …Get me out. Get me reassigned. Please!” He’s near tears, and panting from the pain. Jeff cups his cheek. Williams meets his eye, then grabs his arm and pulls Jeff down onto the shower bench with him and cries on Jeff’s shoulder. Jeff nurturingly busses Williams’s head, and the generous comfort Jeff offers Williams is painful to watch, because you know no good deed goes unpunished, on earth as it is in American Crime Story, so of course Jeff glances up to see a NASCAR-looking dude giving them a disgusted glare from the doorway, then flip-flopping away.
The next day, Jeff goes through the lunch line and into the mess, and the shot follows him as he looks for a spot to sit, then locks eyes with NASCAR mustache guy from the night before. (The actor’s name is Ric Maddox, and I’d like to note that he has also played the Joker in a short film called Gay Batman. The sort of dialogue he has here can’t be an enjoyable day at the office, and Maddox is good, doesn’t sell it out with ham like he might want to.) Finn Wittrock gives us a flicker of “let’s get this over with” as he walks over and sits firmly down at the last empty seat at Mustache’s table. Mustache can’t wait to launch into a story about a guy getting caught at a “hook-up place for f**s,” asking if Jeff knows it. Jeff’s like, um, no, and Mustache goes on that the MPs went in undercover and busted the spot. Great use of your budget there, y’all. Jeff asks if the guy got discharged; Mustache says no, not if he agrees to name “every f** he’s ever blown,” but the guy doesn’t know names – so he’s going to provide a list of tattoos. Cut to a super-tight close-up on Mustache’s beady eyes as he asks with subtle relish, “Got any tattoos, Jeff?” Jeff glances around the table and chuckles all “FOH with that,” but…
…the next scene is Jeff in the showers again, this time with an exacto knife, his issued Zippo, bandages, and a Costco bottle of rubbing alcohol. This is painful to watch, but I have to wonder what kind of clandestine blowjobs everyone else is giving that they’d see, much less take note of, a tattoo on the calf. I mean, don’t the pants stay pretty far up in that instance? – unless that’s the point, that Jeff’s paranoia is that far-reaching (and perhaps justified). Anyway, he takes the blade to the Martian and starts carving, but only gets about a third of the way around before he has to stop.
The next day, we’re in a handheld shot of Jeff supervising other seamen, including the puncher from earlier, who glares at him. He’s told the captain wants to see him, and as he’s heading for the captain’s quarters through a warren of hallways, it seems like everyone he passes – and needs must nearly brush up against in these tight quarters – along the way is eyeing him suspiciously. He takes a quick breath and reports in to the captain, and maybe this got fixed for the air version, but we probably shouldn’t see what looks like a Studio City parking lot out the porthole.
Jeff is told to have a seat, and does, at which time he spots blood seeping through his pantleg from the tattoo wound – also apparently added in post, as it doesn’t move when Jeff’s leg does, so I assume they fixed that too. He tries not to freak out, but then the captain hands him a booklet entitled Dignity & Respect: A Training Guide On Homosexual Conduct Policy.
This comic book – yes, “comic book” – also existed, which might seem hard to believe if you haven’t served or don’t have family members in the service but is all too credible if you have/do. Like, the parachutist at the top right…"irony-free up-fuckery,“ is what my vet uncle would call this. Jeff too-quickly asks if there’s some reason the captain’s giving it to him. It’s being circulated to all officers; does Jeff not think it’s important? Jeff’s like, of…course, sure. Does Jeff have any questions? "No sir!” Jeff gulps. “You haven’t looked at it.” Jeff then grimly recites the section of the…Uniform Code? Not sure if that applies here, actually, but it’s the regulation that prohibits engaging in or even admitting to “homosexual acts.” The captain stares at Jeff, then asks if he knows all the regulations by heart. “Most, sir,” Jeff says, which tracks. “Open the book,” he’s told, so he does, staring dully at a page that overexplains what “Don’t Ask” means. The captain asks again if he has questions, and when Jeff answers again that he doesn’t, the captain goes on about a code of conduct, without which they’re “nothing.” “Nothing,” Jeff repeats. So they’re understood? “Yes, sir.”
Nighttime. Jeff’s in the shower again, this time poring over the comic. He pauses when he thinks he hears footsteps, then resumes, this time at the Don’t Tell portion of the book.
Daytime. He’s dressing in his whites, buffing his cap, shining his white shoes. I didn’t even write a note about the visual reference to Lt. Col. Markinson in A Few Good Men, because that character’s about to shoot himself, but maybe I was onto something, because then we’re back in the shower, Jeff standing in his whites on the bench and contemplating the belt he’s looped over a ceiling pipe.
Wittrock looks about twelve years old in this shot and it is buh-rutal. Jeff puts his head through and leans on the belt, but he can’t go through with this either, although it’s a harrowing couple minutes, and the mood isn’t lifted by his despair as he sags, crying, onto the shower bench.
He’s only slightly happier about the prospect of visiting a gay bar called Flicks, but he does it, albeit with baseball hat pulled fairly far down and a body language suggesting deep conflict. Company B’s “Fascination” blares in the bar as he hesitantly orders a beer and looks around at the men smiling, the men smoking, the go-go boy with the American-flag briefs smizing at him. Beside him is Cunanan, who spots him as a rookie immediately. “Was it that obvious?” “There were a few clues,” Cunanan smirks, and introduces himself.
Later, they’re yukking it up at a table with a few empties as Jeff reveals that he’s never gone to any gay bar before. Cunanan’s shaggy-dog joke about the bartender setting off fireworks that make the shape of Jeff’s name to mark the occasion wigs Jeff out momentarily, but Jeff sincerely thanks him for making the night un-humiliating. Cunanan preens that it’s his honor, and he feels like he’s part of Jeff’s history. He asks if Jeff is military, and murmurs that it must be hard. Jeff agrees that it is. Cunanan switches gears, saying rules require him to buy Jeff drinks for the rest of the night and insisting Jeff put his money away. Jeff smiles to himself. At the bar, Cunanan watches him fondly.
Another time, at the same bar, Cunanan asks how it happens that CBS wants to interview Jeff. They came to the base and canvassed the straight soldiers, Jeff says; his part is sharing “the other side.” Cunanan sputters that Jeff is crazy, they’ll kick him out, but Jeff says they’ll keep him in shadow so he can’t be identified. “How humiliating,” Cunanan breathes. Jeff doesn’t get it, so Cunanan notes that the bigots get to stand in the light, uniforms on, proudly; Jeff gets to stay in the shadows with his voice distorted, “like a criminal.” “Yep,” Jeff says grimly. Of course this is how Cunanan thinks of it, and that the Navy will witch-hunt Jeff, that nobody cares what he has to say and it’s not worth it, but it’s something Jeff needs to do. He can’t explain it.
He pulls up to a motel in his Jeep and gathers himself, then approaches one of the rooms.
Gianni and Antonio do the same, at a different hotel.
Jeff listens at the hotel-room door.
Gianni breathes, “My heart,” and puts Antonio’s hand on his chest to feel the hammering. “Mine too,” Antonio laughs. Gianni wonders how many interviews he’s done. Antonio puts Gianni’s hand over his heart and says he can’t count. “None like this,” Gianni says. They kiss. Gianni knocks.
Jeff shakes hands with his interviewer.
Gianni shakes hands with his interviewer. As he’s posing for pictures, Antonio stares into the middle distance; he’s snapped out of the reverie by Gianni coming over for help zhuzhing his shirt.
Jeff’s reassured that viewers will only see his silhouette, and that the MPs can’t make the interviewer reveal his sources.
Gianni’s interviewer confirms that Gianni understands he’s on the record.
Jeff explains that the military is his life; it’s all he ever wanted to do. Asked if anyone serving is out, Jeff says the majority are closeted, “and will always be closeted.”
Gianni interrupts his interview to introduce Antonio in so many words as his partner, and to ask if they can do the interview together. The interviewer smiles warmly, knowing what he’s witnessing, and says absolutely.
Jeff, meanwhile, isn’t so optimistic, saying that he thinks talking to CBS is probably the end of his career. But at the same time, his career probably died a long time ago, he says, choking up. They know. They’ve never promoted him, even though he’s a good sailor. “How do they know?” Jeff tells the story of saving Williams’s life. It’s slightly different from what we heard before in the phrasing, but we’re still seeing these two men, both struggling to do the right thing, and the hopeful version of the right thing. Both killed by a guy who couldn’t see any way to get love except to never tell the truth and to trade in shame instead of pride.
The day of Jeff’s death. He comes home to find his apartment in bad-guest disarray and Cunanan performatively eating Froot Loops, four of which he probably left in the box, because: dickhead. Jeff sees his uniform hat on the table, stares at Cunanan, and heads into the bedroom without a word as Cunanan scrambles to his feet. Jeff finds his uniform on the bed and stalks back into the living room: “You went through my stuff?” Cunanan non-answers that he was going to tidy up, but Jeff interrupts that he touched Jeff’s uniform. Cunanan was going to put it back: “So what?” “’So what’?” Jeff snarls. Cunanan’s eyes narrow as he says he doesn’t get why Jeff keeps it. Cunanan didn’t serve his country; he’ll never get it. No, Cunanan doesn’t, not after how the Navy treated him. “You’ve never believed in anything except yourself,” Jeff says, but Cunanan protests that he believed in Jeff, “didn’t I,” when the Navy didn’t? “Everything you gave me, the bars, the meals, the men, it means nothing – I want my life back!” Jeff says. He means his real life, as a soldier. Cunanan croons in an oh-honey tone that they never wanted him – Cunanan wanted him! Jeff’s like, pass, and says he doesn’t know who Cunanan is; he doesn’t stand for anything. He isn’t anything, he’s just a liar. “You have no honor,” Jeff finishes, heading back into the bedroom.
Now Cunanan’s pissed, and tries to take control of the situation/Jeff, sneering that Jeff’s not in the Navy anymore, “sweetie” – he’s a washed-up [slur] with a shitty job, in a shitty condo, “bitching about how you could have been someone.” This is Cunanan, really, not Jeff, but Jeff says he’s right about that. Cunanan attempts to pull rank by announcing grandly that, when Jeff walked into “that bar,” he saved Jeff. Jeff: “You destroyed me!” He wishes he’d never gone into that bar; he wishes he’d never met Cunanan. Cunanan switches gears, saying Jeff’s confused and can’t see it, but Jeff can see it: “I see it, I feel it, I hate it.” I think he means that what he sees and feels keep him from what he truly loves, serving in the Navy, but I’d hear arguments. In any case, Cunanan is still trying to work the tractor beam, putting his hands up to Jeff’s face and starting to say he loved Jeff so much, but Jeff swats Cunanan’s hands away, knocking him back a step: “No one! Wants! Your love!”
Cunanan Starmans out of the room, gathering his bag (with Jeff’s gun on top) and leaving without a word.
David is opening the door to let his “friend” out and finds Cunanan just standing there. Cunanan brushes in, in between David and the friend, without being invited in. “Andrew!” Cunanan parks it on the coffee table: “Yes?” David didn’t hear the buzzer. Cunanan didn’t want to bother (read: alert) David, so he “just slipped in behind someone else.” The friend’s like, yikes, and David has to whisper that he’ll call. He fastens his bathrobe tightly, and is about to get into it when Cunanan fake-haltingly mentions what David said “about needing help.” Can they talk tonight? “Sure,” David this-fucking-guys, and goes into the bedroom. Cunanan schemes.
Jeff irons his uniform and folds it neatly away.
While David showers, Cunanan calls Jeff to neener that he has Jeff’s gun; he borrowed it to protect David from a stalker who’s back in town. As Jeff is bitching at him about having a license and how the gun never leaves the apartment, Cunanan smiles smugly at the trap he’s going to spring. Jeff says he’ll come over and retrieve it, but he’s done with Cunanan – done. Cunanan tries to grade-school that Jeff said that already, but Jeff hangs up on him. Cunanan wanders into the area of David’s loft that’s under construction and eyes the hammer.
Jeff’s downstairs now, banging on the broken buzzer. Cunanan asks if David’s going to get the door, but this time, David asks if he’s joking, and Cunanan grumps that Jeff is “very hostile at the moment” and he’d rather not get into it with him in the foyer. As David’s letting Jeff in, Cunanan is selecting the hammer and taking up his lurking post. We see him hear Jeff say he never wants to see Cunanan again, and again here the dialogue is somewhat shuffled from what we saw last week, but it may air differently – or be a “what Cunanan ‘hears’ and what’s actually happening aren’t the same” thing. It doesn’t change the ending, unfortunately, and we cut from the door swinging shut and Cunanan rushing Jeff…
…to Jeff’s sister getting wheeled into labor, hollering in pain. Slow pan across Jeff’s empty apartment as his parents leave various messages about the labor and delivery; fade out on Jeff’s hat, neatly atop the uniform box, as Jeff’s parents inform him that he has a niece, and everyone’s healthy.
Spoilers through the episode “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.” The past two episodes of American Crime Story (executive producer: Nina Jacobson) Season 2 have introduced Darren Criss’s Andrew Cunanan’s first two victims. But given the backwards chronology of the show, some viewers may still be confused about the real life history between the three men. In The Assassination Of Gianni Versace, Jeffrey Trail and David Madson are depicted somewhat ambiguously as having been in a relationship with each other at the time of their deaths. The episode “House By The Lake” seems to imply that jealousy over this relationship is what motivated Cunanan to murder both men. But is this really what happened?
In the opening moments of the Feb. 7 episode, Andrew invites Jeff over to David’s apartment with the intention of murdering him. As David and Jeff are on the way up in the elevator, David nervously tells his friend, “He knows about us.” A few moments later, Jeff is dead. Given that the real Cunanan took his own lifebefore he could be interrogated by police, the world may never know his true motives for allegedly killing his five victims. As such, Versace writer Tom Rob Smith is forced to take some creative liberties to fill in gaps in the heavily researched narrative of Maureen Orth’s 1999 non-fiction book Vulgar Favors, on which the season is based. But the idea of a relationship between David and Jeff might be one of Smith’s biggest inventions, according to other sources.
In an article published four days after Versace’s 1997 murder, The New York Timesquoted Trail’s sister Lisa as saying, “Jeff had just started a new relationship.” Lisa alleged her brother was uncomfortable over Cunanan’s impending visit to Minneapolis: “Her brother, she said, feared Mr. Cunanan might insinuate himself in a way that would make trouble for Mr. Trail and his partner,” the article states. Although the piece never names Trail’s partner, it’s clear that it wasn’t Madson, since the article explains that Cunanan had to spend the night at Madson’s apartment because “Mr. Trail had gone out of town with his partner.” Ergo, Trail’s partner and the person Cunanan was staying with couldn’t have been the same person.
Indeed, Orth’s 1997 Vanity Fair article “The Killer’s Trail” — which formed the basis for Vulgar Favors — names Trail’s partner at the time of his death. “Trail had made it clear that he wouldn’t be around much the weekend of Andrew’s visit,” Orth wrote. “His boyfriend, Jon Hackett, a student at the University of Minnesota, was celebrating his 21st birthday, and Trail was taking him out of town Saturday night.” In fact, Orth’s account of the murders implies that Trail and Madson weren’t even that close; she states that the pair had only “casually” befriended one another after meeting in Minneapolis and realizing they both knew Cunanan.
But just because Trail and Madson weren’t dating — or reportedly even particular close — doesn’t mean Cunanan knew that. In fact, Orth claimed in her piece that a large part of the reason for his visit to Minneapolis was his paranoia over their relationship. “Cunanan had told a friend that he was uncomfortable having the two people he cared most about living in the same faraway city without him,” she wrote, getting up to who knows what in his absence.
So why does Versace (executive producer: Alexis Martin Woodall) include the line where David worries that Andrew “knows about” him and Jeff? Well, the Feb. 14 episode, “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,” might clear that up. Despite seeming to imply that they were in a relationship only a week before, the show makes no mention of such a connection between Jeff and David while exploring Trail’s backstory and the events leading up to his murder. In fact, David is shown inviting another man over to his apartment — although no mention of Hackett is made.
There are two possibilities that explain the “he knows” line in retrospect. One is that the scene is Andrew’s imagined version of events of what happened after David went to let Jeff in; he feared that his two closest friends were in a relationship, so that’s what the viewer sees. The other is that David simply wasn’t referring to Andrew knowing about some secret relationship — but rather, that he knew both he and Jeff were planning to cut Andrew out of their lives after that weekend, as is revealed in the opening moments of the Feb. 14 episode. Either way, the line seems designed to instill the same paranoia in the viewer that Andrew was feeling at the time, while clearing up the truth of David and Jeff’s relationship in the following episode.
Ultimately, Smith isn’t writing Versace to serve as a factual tell-all of the people involved in Cunanan’s killing spree, but rather to serve as a parable to highlight how life in the closet damages gay men in various ways. “If you look at the crimes themselves, they express various facets of homophobia,” Smith told The Hollywood Reporter in a recent interview. He continued:
“You have the murder of Jeff, which is clearly about someone who should have had this brilliant military career. He was the perfect soldier, utterly dedicated, and Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell was just such a travesty. You have people who went to give their lives for their country and to say to them, ‘We don’t want your life,’ or, ‘Your life is meaningless to us’… It seems to me irrational and cruel, and it destroys people. And then you have a very different facet of homophobia with the second victim, David. You had this brilliant young man caught up in a murder, and so ashamed of who he is that he just can’t say to Andrew, ‘I need to go to the police now.’ Why doesn’t he break from that guy much sooner? It’s because he just knows, ‘If I go to the police, they won’t believe me.’ That’s heartbreaking.”
Versace will continue to explore the various ways in which homophobia contributed to the tragic events of this story in the season’s remaining four episodes.
Al Coronel: Hope everyone is watching this season of American Crime Story – The Assassination of Gianni Versace. It is a story of not only Gianni’s senseless murder but also about the other victims of the deranged mind of Andrew Cunanan who’s dark and gripping story is portrayed profoundly by Darren Criss. I feel honored to help tell their story. It was a pleasure to share the screen with Finn Whitrock who plays Jeff Trail, Cunanan’s first victim. Thank you to the crew and to director, Daniel Minahan. (who happened to direct several of my favorite episodes of Game of Thrones!!!) for this amazing experience.
It’s part of the “American Crime Story” series airing on FX.
The FX network is back for the second season of its “American Crime Story” series, following the success of last year’s Emmy-winning “The People v. O.J. Simpson.”
Ryan Murphy once again is the executive producer of this anthology, based on actual crimes, and he directed the first episode of this year’s unsettling installment, “The Assassination of Gianni Versace.”
The first of nine episodes debuted last month and can be viewed via On Demand if you haven’t been watching. The cast is terrific, and the adaptation written by British author Tom Rob Smith is on target. The limited series, which airs Wednesday nights at 10, is inspired by Maureen Orth’s nonfiction book “Vulgar Favors: Andrew Cunanan, Gianni Versace and the Largest Failed Manhunt in U.S. History.”
What both the “Simpson” series and “Versace” have in common is a gripping murder saga enhanced by powerful psychological insight into the minds of the principal characters. Murphy possesses the ability to entertain while exploring the dark side of human behavior, in this case represented by the deranged serial killer Andrew Cunanan.
Played with chilling bravado by Darren Criss (here eerily reminiscent of Anthony Perkins in “Psycho”), who also starred on Murphy’s popular music series “Glee,” Cunanan is severely disturbed, using his good looks to infiltrate the lives of wealthy gay men. But world-acclaimed fashion designer Versace was the big prize, a breathtaking symbol of the high life: money, sex and celebrity.
For a man like Cunanan, such a target proved irresistible. He had met Versace several years earlier in San Francisco but did not make the final cut, so to speak, into the designer’s inner circle. Revenge was indeed part of his motive, and along the way, four other people lose their lives to make that happen.
The series also stars singer Ricky Martin as Versace’s promiscuous lover; Venezuelan actor Edgar Ramirez as Versace; and Oscar-winning Spanish actress Penelope Cruz as the designer’s shrewd sister, Donatella Versace. Murphy succeeded in attracting guest performers such as Judith Light, Mike Farrell and Cathy Moriarty to his expansive and impressive company as well.
Using a reversible flashback technique, he deftly ramps up the suspense, starting with the murder and jumping back and forward in time as Cunanan draws ever closer to Miami. The Italian-born Versace played a big role in transforming the city into a high-fashion capital. He ran his business, worth millions, from an elaborate mansion directly across from the sea in South Beach.
Adding to the docudrama’s intimacy is Murphy’s sharp eye for period detail, capturing the glamour that permeated 1997 Miami Beach, at the time in the midst of a transformation as crumbling apartment buildings and hotels were transformed into art deco masterpieces.
World-renowned chefs opened acclaimed restaurants, and the city’s exciting nightlife drew A-list stars and models and singers and athletes to what had become America’s biggest, and perhaps naughtiest, party town.
And along with them came monsters such as Andrew Cunanan, dazzled by the possibilities.
I’m starting to think they should have called this series ‘The Assassination of Gianni Versace by the Coward Andrew Cunanan.’
Just like the big screen movie about Jesse James and his killer Robert Ford, this isn’t a true story about the man who was assassinated and his life. This is about Andrew Cunanan.
We start by stepping further back in time yet again to meet the man Andrew bludgeoned to death at the beginning of American Crime Story: Versace Season 1 Episode 4. The man is Jeff Trail, and he’s a former naval officer, now working at a gas company in Minneapolis.
It was fairly obvious based on the brief conversation between Jeff and David a few moments before Jeff’s murder that neither man was particularly fond of Andrew at this point. But now we get some actual context to show why Andrew’s friends were just about done with him.
Jeff: He’s got no one. He’s got nothing. Everything he’s told you about his life is a lie. You know that, right? David: Do you even like him?
Seeing Andrew’s desperation as he pleaded with David to marry him was honestly odd. When Andrew shows up in Minneapolis, he and David are not a couple and barely even friends it would appear, yet within hours he’s asking David to marry him?
Andrew is so very clearly off mentally and emotionally, and David seems to notice more so than Jeff, who wants no parts of Andrew.
After getting a full episode of the aftermath of Jeff’s murder and Andrew’s relationship with Jeff, it was interesting to see how different Jeff and David were towards Andrew.
Save for a few scenes showing how Andrew and Jeff first met, we only see Jeff’s hostility and anger, whereas David is empathetic and concerned.
And quite honestly Jeff has every right to be upset with Andrew. Andrew’s postcard fiasco was very hurtful to Jeff. As his sister explains, Andrew’s trying to “out” Jeff was extremely threatening.
Digging further into Jeff’s past reveals a man that seems to be almost ashamed of who he is. He’s a man that can acknowledge that stepping in to save a man from being beaten to death for being gay was a heroic moment and one to be proud of, yet he regrets his actions every single day.
Why? Because of what it did to his career. What it did to his life.
For a man that was defined by his job and his title, not having that any longer was a huge burden on Jeff’s shoulders. He carried that burden with him to his death.
While this remains a story much more about Andrew Cunanan than Gianni Versace, the eponymous designer does make an appearance this week. Gianni is ready to come out publicly as a gay man, but he receives pushback from Donatella.
I hadn’t seen the Versaces in a long time, and to be honest, the storyline wasn’t missed. I don’t like saying that, but it’s been fascinating to get these glimpses into the lives and situations of Andrew’s other victims. The other people whose deaths weren’t front page news and water cooler fodder.
I don’t think the irony of Gianni’s freeing interview opposite Jeff’s darkened interview was lost on anyone. Though a bit heavy handed, we saw the lesson before us.
While Gianni was at the top of his game and feeling lucky to be alive, he wanted to be true to himself, to Antonio and his fans by admitting to everyone who he really was. And because of his stature in society, he could do so on a public platform.
On the other hand, at a time when the discriminatory Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell policy was in full effect, Jeff conducted his interview shrouded in darkness as he feared for his job, his security and even his life.
They were two very different men sharing their stories of what it means to be a gay man at that point, under vastly different circumstances.
If this were a different show, I would have liked to delve even further into this. But this isn’t that show. Instead, we jump pretty quickly away from the interviews and back into Jeff and his final moments.
No one wants your love!
– Jeff [to Andrew]
Seeing the moments leading up to Jeff’s murder from Andrew’s perspective doesn’t do much but add a greater sense of dread.
Andrew was an unstable man who came to Minneapolis looking for one thing and suddenly realized that he wasn’t going to get it. And unfortunately, Jeff Trail and David Madson were casualties of internal war.
What did you guys think about “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell”? Where do you think the series will head from here? Were you glad to see the Versace family back?
If there’s one prominent problem with the majority of true crime narratives, it’s that they put the focus entirely on—or grossly glorify—the criminal rather than spending time with the victims. The approach makes sense because that’s often what people want: the gory details, insight into a murderer so we can try to put together the “why?” puzzle pieces. Interest in the victims is secondary and cursory: limited background details, just enough to let us know how we can possibly avoid that same fate. While The Assassination Of Gianni Versace certainly is heavy on Andrew Cunanan, an episode like “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” proves why victims’ stories are important, too—and the result in this season’s best episode so far.
“Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” brings Versace back into the mix by juxtaposing him publicly coming out (in Advocate) with Jeff Trail’s struggles of being closeted in the Navy. It’s an interesting juxtaposition because the military and fashion worlds feel miles apart, and like polar opposites. The cold open, however, features Donatella worried—and perhaps a little angry—about Versace’s decision, concerned that being so public will affect sales, stock, and public perception. Not to mention, it appears Donatella and Antonio have always been at odds (we saw a bit of this in the pilot episode) so she thinks Versace is only coming out to appease Antonio (“You want to be famous,” she accuses him) who is frequently mistaken for an assistant instead of Versace’s partner. Versace’s mind won’t be changed; he had “a second chance” after he got sick but survived, and he wants to live openly. Jeff, too, wants to live openly but that’s impossible with his career in the Navy, and more so during the height of the Don’t Tell Dont Ask days.
That policy, which wasn’t repealed until late 2011, is indeed the focal point of an episode that is both powerful and heartbreaking. After Andrew watches a video of Jeff’s appearance in a 48 Hours episode dedicated to DADT, the episode smartly puts the killer on the backburner for a while to instead jump back to 1995. The bulk of the hour is about a crucial period during Jeff’s time in the Navy, starting with him breaking up a fight between a straight officer upset that another officer “brushed up against me” and then, later, stopping gay bashing in his bunk. The targeted officer cries to Jeff that he needs to be reassigned; he knows that there’s a target on his back, and he knows that there won’t always be someone around to intervene. Another officer spots the two of them and the intimate moment is cut short by the realization that Jeff just made himself a target, too. The scene is informed by the 48 Hours interview where Jeff tells the story of saving a sailor’s life. “If I hadn’t done it, if I hadn’t stopped them, no one would have suspected me.” And then the kicker: Jeff dreams of taking that moment back.
Since that moment, Jeff has lived with the knowledge that saving one person essentially derailed his own life. If he had ignored it, if he had let this man die, it’s highly possible that Jeff could have continued to serve without incident—but then he’d have to deal with knowing he turned a blind eye. There was no winning for him, so he chose the self-sacrificing route. This doesn’t just speak to his character as a fellow gay officer, but also to his base qualities as a caring human being, which makes everything even harder to watch because we know the outcome.
Through Jeff, “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” shows the horrible implications and consequences of the titular policy. It forced members of the military to stay in the closet, to lie about their lives, to spend all their time in the service living in fear that they could be outed—or attacked just for being suspected of “homosexual activity”—and kicked out. It also allowed some officers to encourage others to out their colleagues and, in some instances, it forced gay military members to turn on others in order to save themselves. One officer, the episode shows, was cut a deal by the military police: if he outs the gay military officers he knows—through tattoos, because he doesn’t know their names—then he won’t get dishonorably discharged. Jeff keeps his cool during that conversation but you can tell that he’s trying to quell his inner panic. (It also now makes more sense why last week’s episode lingered on Jeff’s tattoo in the morgue.) And sure enough, there’s an immensely upsetting scene where Jeff tries to carve off his tattoo.
Writer Tom Rob Smith accurately captures the weight DADT had as it loomed over the gay military community, resulting in an episode that just feels heavy, like there was an anvil on my chest crushing me more and more as the hour continued. There’s so much tension built in to small actions, such as Jeff’s captain wordlessly handing him the Dignity And Respect: A Training Guide On Homosexual Conduct Policy book or Jeff slipping on his pristine white shoes to match his dress whites. The former is jarring because you almost want to laugh at the cartoonish cover, but its comic book approach only heightens how fucked up the policies are (and Jeff can recite the specific regulation from memory; another tell). The latter is more urgent, setting up Jeff’s aborted suicide by hanging. It’s a testament to how powerful and effective the storytelling is in this series: We know that’s now how Jeff dies, but I still held my breath. But in a way, some of Jeff did die while in the Navy.
Another impressive task the episode pulls off is having Jeff’s military experience seamlessly lead to depicting why he was originally so drawn to Andrew (a stark contrast to two years later in the airport). Andrew clocks Jeff as new to the gay bar scene, and he uses this to position himself as a charming, knowledgeable, comfortably-out gay man, and one who is willing to welcome Jeff to the scene. What Jeff craves—what he doesn’t get from the military—is to be open about who he is and accepted for it. Andrew doesn’t just accept him but celebrates him, even paying for all of Jeff’s drinks that night. It’s easy to see that magnetism that drew Jeff to Andrew, the beginnings of their friendship before it went awry, and why Jeff now feels like he “owes” Andrew. (It’s also interesting to note of how that mix of respect and envy Jeff felt toward Andrew for those early days is similar to how Andrew felt toward Versace.)
Toward the end, there’s something beautiful about seeing both Versace and Jeff able to talk about their sexuality—even if Jeff is doing it anonymously—in their respective interviews, despite them both knowing that it could affect their careers. Jeff says so explicitly (“By talking to you, it’s the end of my career but honestly maybe my career died a long time ago because they know”) and I’m sure Donatella’s concerns are in the back of Versace’s mind, too. It’s freeing, even if just for a moment, but, of course, it’s cut short by Andrew.
Stray observations
So, uh, happy Valentine’s Day!
Both Cody Fern and Finn Wittrock have been tremendous these last two weeks! ACS really kills it when it comes to casting, huh?
Here’s a link to theDignity and Respect manual if you want to flip through it—I couldn’t bring myself to really dive in because, as a queer military brat, this episode was especially rough to watch. (It also reminded me of the PS, The Preventive Maintenance Monthly army comics I used to read as a kid, despite never knowing what the hell they were talking about.)
It was good to see Versace & co. back this episode! I’m glad the series included the Advocate interview, which I know was important to Ryan Murphy.
In case you were wondering what Season 2 of American Crime Story would be about now that all five of Andrew Cunanan’s alleged victims have met their fates, the title of the Feb. 14 episode is here to give you a clue. In “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell,” The Assassination Of Gianni Versace (executive prodicer: Nina Jacobson) continues to tackle the issue of homophobia in the ‘90s and the ways in which being forced to live life in the closet can emotionally and psychologically affect gay men. But is the Don’t Ask Don’t Tell training comic shown in the episode real? Or is that a fanciful creation on Ryan Murphy’s part to illustrate the military’s institutional homophobia?
It’s reasonable (and perhaps even smart) for viewers to question the veracity of everything they see in Versace (executive producer: Alexis Martin Woodall). While The People v. O.J. Simpson had a very public and notorious televised trial to base its episodes on, there is still a lot that’s not known about why Andrew Cunanan killed Gianni Versace, what their relationship was (if any), and what exactly happened between him and his other alleged four victims. Although the series is adapted from Maureen Orth’s 1999 non-fiction book Vulgar Favors: Andrew Cunanan, Gianni Versace, and the Largest Failed Manhunt in U. S. History, the credits of each episode declare that portions of each episode had to be imagined based on what little is known about the case.
But the Don’t Ask Don’t Tell comic that Jeffrey Trail (Finn Wittrock) is given by his superior officer in the flashback to his time in the Navy is actually a case of truth being stranger than fiction. Yes, the military really did hand out pamphlets illustrating its policy against discussing homosexuality with comic-book-like panel drawings. One such example is a brochure entitled “Dignity & Respect: A Training Guide On Homosexual Conduct Policy,” published by the Pentagon in 2001, as reported by Mother Jones. This is the exact book that’s handed to Jeff by a superior officer in ACS. The real publication date is four years after Versace’s death, so the series did fudge the dates. However, it’s proof that pamphlets lie these did, sadly, exist.
The real-life pamphlet depicts several examples of soldiers being subjected to discharge proceedings due to their sexuality: one for being caught engaging in “homosexual acts” by another soldier, another for volunteering to his superior officer the fact that he’s gay. In another panel, a soldier is informed that “Don’t Tell” means that the only persons he should talk to about his sexuality are a chaplain and/or an attorney. In another, an officer explains:
“Army policy does not focus on what a person ‘is,’ but on his or her conduct. Homosexual conduct creates an unacceptable risk to unit cohesion and standards of morale, good order, and discipline. Therefore, a soldier who commits a homosexual act, or has a propensity for homosexual conduct as demonstrated by a statement or admission, will be subject to discharge.”
It’s a neat trick that, the further back in time Versace moves, the more socially relevant the show becomes to our current times. What started as a lavish and colorful recreation of a beloved fashion designer and his tragic death has slowly transformed into something more universal, melancholy, and insightful. By examining the societal pressures and prejudices that inflicted both Andrew Cunanan and those who came into contact with, Versace is doing more than providing audiences with a true crime fix: it’s highlighting injustice by contrasting how much has changed since the ’90s… with how much hasn’t.
The second season of Ryan Murphy’s American Crime Story anthology series, titled , explores the titular designer’s brutal 1997 murder at the hands of serial killer Andrew Cunanan. We’re walking through all nine episodes with Miami Herald editorial board member Luisa Yanez — who reported on the crime and its aftermath over several years for the Sun-Sentinel’s Miami bureau — in an effort to identify what ACS: Versace handles with care versus when it deviates from documented fact and common perception. The intention here is less to debunk an explicitly dramatized version of true events than to help viewers piece together a holistic picture of the circumstances surrounding Versace’s murder. In other words, these weekly digests are best considered supplements to each episode rather than counterarguments. Below are Yanez’s insights — as well as our independent research — into the veracity and potency of events and characterizations presented in episode five, “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell.”
What They Got Right
Cunanan’s animus toward Jeff Trail “It all begins with Trail,” Yanez asserts. “Whatever Trail did to him or whatever he felt, he really hated him.”
Donatella Versace’s media wariness “She didn’t speak to the media here,” confirms Yanez while reflecting on scenes depicting Donatella’s concerns about bad PR. “We knew that she was around. She was very private. She didn’t make statements.” Yanez isn’t aware of whether Donatella was opposed to her brother being publicly out, though in a recent Vogue interview, she does share that the best advice Gianni ever gave her was, “Be true to yourself.”
The public perception of Antonio D’Amico Yanez says that if Donatella was dismissive of Antonio, she wasn’t alone. She and her colleagues’ perception of him at the time “was not very respectful,” she says. “We saw him like Donatella sees him, as just a boyfriend.”
Trail’s CBS interview It was with Richard Schlesinger for 48 Hours, and he was in silhouette speaking bravely about the military and federal government’s shortsightedness, his Naval officer cap visible in the foreground. In a blog post last year, Schlesinger wrote that Trail’s brutal death left he and his colleagues “stunned and saddened” and feeling a “connection to the horror that Cunanan had created.”
The encounter at Flicks Although the Sun-Sentinel sent reporters to San Diego, Yanez admits that “the bar scene became background” to their coverage of Cunanan. It’s difficult to corroborate the exact time and location of Jeff and Andrew’s first encounter, but Trail’s friend Michael Williams told the San Diego Reader at the time that Andrew was a regular at Flicks nightclub. Flicks’ owner seconded as much to the New York Times.
What They Took Liberties With
The Advocate interview In August 1995, The Advocate did publish an exclusive interview with Gianni authored by Brendan Lemon. Antonio did sit in on the interview, and Gianni wasn’t shy about referencing him as his “companion” of 13 years. The article, cited by Ryan Murphy as inspirational, unabashedly linked the designer to his orientation as a gay man, although it also was upfront about the fact that Gianni had never really “shirked homosexuality.” He and Lemon had in fact sat down to promote Versace’s book, Men Without Ties, and so the depiction of their exchange in “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” as a platform for his coming out is somewhat romanticized. When Vulture reached out to FX to confirm that this particular Advocate interview inspired the storyline, executive producer Brad Simpson replied in an email, “In 1995, Versace sat with The Advocate. He had Antonio sit in on the interview as depicted in the show. He allowed The Advocate to be open about his homosexuality, identifying Antonio as his companion and collaborator, and allowing himself to be described as ‘out.’” But one detail the show definitely took license with? Antonio’s hair. It was, as Lemon describes, styled as more of an era-familiar Caesar cut.
Gianni Versace’s virtuous reputation Versace was largely regarded as a kind and big-hearted man. But both ACSon the whole and “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” in particular portray him as almost preternaturally compassionate and even-keeled. “In the time before [his murder], he kind of became a bad guy on the beach,” recalls Yanez. “When he bought that property, there was an old hotel next door where a lot of low-income people lived. So you had this mansion he built, and next door this fleabag kind of thing. There came a chance to buy that hotel, and he immediately bought it and had everybody evicted, knocked that hotel down, and expanded his mansion. So he became this rich baron. There was a cost of that to other people, his quest for beauty.”
Cunanan’s closet collage Earlier this season, Cunanan’s Normandy Plaza room décor included a slapdash shrine of sorts to Gianni comprised of various Versace clippings. Ditto his San Diego closet in this episode, which is partly covered by a makeshift mural featuring the Advocate piece. Neither Yanez nor anyone else can testify to how Andrew adorned the walls of his final West Coast haunt. She was, however, intimate with how he left his last room at the Normandy, and says, “In fact, [police] went through every detail in that room, and it was mostly fashion magazines and books. We detailed everything in that room, but there was no serial-killer shrine hidden. There was no trace of Versace there, nothing that would say, ‘Oh, he was stalking Versace.’”
The Trail family Like the episode prior, “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” opts for a fairly dramatic conclusion, this time overlapping the moment of Trail’s murder with the birth of his niece. But as Jeff’s older sister Candace told People back in 1997, their sister Linda had delivered her baby the day prior. And while Jeff enthuses, “I’m going to enjoy being an uncle so much,” he’d already been: It was Linda’s third child.
Cunanan and Madson’s night out Andrew and David did hit the town two nights before Andrew began his killing spree. And they did dine at popular Minneapolis spot Nye’s, per police. And Nye’s was a legendary polka hall (and piano bar) that was recently revitalized. But police elaborated that after their meal, the pair went dancing at known gay hotspot The Gay 90’s, the same club where — tragically — Trail’s boyfriend Jon waited in vain for Jeff the night he was murdered. And while Maureen Orth’s reporting circa fall ’97 claims that Madson’s friend Monique Salvetti met up with David and Andrew at Nye’s, a Daily News article from earlier that year reports that while Madson was confiding in Salvetti, an anonymous coworker joined the pair Friday evening at a separate café. This somewhat jibes with an Los Angeles Times account tracking the duo’s movements from Caffe Solo to The Gay 90’s, though they place them there on Saturday night, less than 24 hours before Trail’s murder. Meanwhile, both the Star-Tribune and the New York Times support the episode’s version that Cunanan spent Saturday in Trail’s apartment. Then there’s the FBI file, which reports that Salvetti was out with David and Andrew on Friday at Nye’s, and that Madson and Cunanan had dinner the following night at Monte Carlo Restaurant, capped off by dancing at The Gay 90’s before Andrew crashed at Jeff’s place. The only thing all parties agree on is that no one fully anticipated the bloodshed to come.
The postcard Andrew absolutely sent romantic, over-the-top postcards to his lovers. He sent dozens to David Madson, of which his sister kept copies. (The FBI has the originals.) But whether he effectively outed Jeff by mistakenly sending one to his father Stan is, like much of Trail’s life as documented in “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell,” hard to pin down.
We continue moving back in time, leaving Gianni’s assassination further behind as we’re given the context behind two infamous interviews. On the one hand, Versace (Edgar Ramirez) gears up to face a reporter from gay magazine The Advocate to finally come out publicly — much to the dismay of his sister, the ever business-driven Donatella (Penelope Cruz). On the other, a young closeted navy officer participates in a CBS news segment about “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell.” Only, we’ve met the officer before. His name is Jeff Trail. He’s played by Finn Wittrock. We’ve already seen how he died at the hands of Andrew Cunanan (Darren Criss), bludgeoned with a hammer at the home of Minneapolis architect David Madson (Cody Fern), whose own death we saw in last week’s episode.
The episode, aptly titled “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” is very much focused on Jeff: we see his stint in the navy (where he saved a fellow officer from getting beaten up for being gay), witness his first meeting with Andrew (at a gay bar where they hit it off), and later still get a chance to relive the ill-fated weekend before he showed up at David’s apartment. Further expanding its examination of the culture of silence that fueled much of the still-rampant homophobia in the 90s, this latest episode connects Jeff’s own experience in the navy with Versace’s own desire to be more open about his private life.
But where Jeff finds an unlikely cheerleader in Andrew, who actually thinks the former navy officer should be brave and show his face on the CBS News segment (he chose instead to have his face be obscured to keep his identity safe), Gianni only finds pushback from the one person he’s always trusted when it comes to his label’s PR: Donatella. To her, coming out so publicly will spell disaster for their brand. She’s worried about how many people will be put off by his admission, how many investors will flee their company, and how women across the world will see the Versace style differently. “You live in isolation, surrounded by beauty and kindness,” she tells him. “You’ve forgotten how ugly the world can be.” Nevertheless, Gianni is resolute. It helps that Antonio (Ricky Martin) has emboldened him to be braver, especially after his near-death experience with the unnamed illness from a few episodes back. He wants to be as bold as his clothes. “Is the brand of Versace braver than the man?” he asks his sister, finally making her relent and understand better why getting this off his chest, with his partner of more than a decade in tow, is so important to him.
This Week’s MVP: Donatella’s jacket.
Okay, Murphy-staple Wittrock (you may know him as the tighty whitey-wearing serial killer in American Horror Story: Freakshow) astounds in this episode playing the troubled Navy officer with wounded sincerity, but we have to give the costume designer of this show her due. Lou Eyrich has won three Emmys already for working on Murphy’s American Horror Story franchise. But she is doing just as fabulous work in this fashion-heavy show. Everything from Cunanan’s penchant for tight briefs to Versace’s bold satin shirts shows how the costumes (both off-the-rack and high-fashion) help to tell the story while also being downright amazing. Though truly, when you’re outfitting Penelope as Donatella and Edgar as Gianni — the Versace siblings are as colorful a pair as one can find — you really can’t go wrong.
Better yet, they truly help inform character. Donatella’s jacket, after all, is both warm yet imposing. It’s a working woman’s blazer that dares you to call it tacky (that pink! those butterflies! the gold pattern!) It’s ostentatious while also being understated, the kind of piece you can see her picking out of her closet almost absent-mindedly. But with those sleeves rolled up and those big, gold pieces of jewelry adorning her, we get to see Cruz-as-Donatella as the kind of no-nonsense style icon she’s always been, always having business in mind even while styling herself as she were about to be in a lavish editorial spread about female executives shattering glass ceilings.
With the show skipping back and forth in time, at times leaving its titular Versace assassination behind, we’re curious where Murphy and his team take us next week when we travel to San Diego for a Cunanan birthday celebration.
Oh, thank God. Gianni Versace is back, he wears an amazing Versace top while being interviewed by The Advocate, and, as a special bonus, we also get Penelope Cruz as Donatella Versace wearing a fitted butterfly blazer and microscopic black skirt. What better outfit to wear when being super mean to your brother and his lover? I would probably let someone treat me as shabbily as Donatella does Antonio as long as she dressed like that.
Those few scenes add splendor to the otherwise dreary and sad world of Andrew Cunanan, where we’ve been living for the past few episodes. “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” is really about coming out and the two very different experiences of these two very different men. We see Gianni in his great designs and well-lit photo shoot for his Advocate cover, immediately contrasted with Jeff Trail, one of Cunanan’s victims, giving an interview with CBS News about gays in the military where he has his face and voice disguised “like a criminal.”
This illustrates just how difficult and different coming out was for different classes of people in the mid-‘90s. Versace, as a millionaire with a thriving business in a creative field, was allowed to come out without much consequence. (Although the actual Advocate interviewwasn’t exactly as depicted here.) Donatella is worried that celebrities and tastemakers will leave the brand like they did to Perry Ellis when it was discovered that he was dying of AIDS. Her brother retorts, “At least we’ll keep Elton,” meaning the famously out rocker Elton John. (Duh.)
Versace’s coming out is seen as a celebration, something that advances gay rights and gay visibility. It was only possible because he was in fashion, one of the industries where you can’t swing a designer handbag without hitting a friend of Dorothy’s. Not everyone was so lucky to have the financial success and protection that Versace did, and things were a lot harder for them.
Look at how it was for Jeff Trail. He’s forced into the closet so that he can continue to serve his country and be a member of the military. Everyone in his family has served. While coming out might have a bit of an impact on Versace’s multimillion-dollar business, if Trail came out, he’ll lose his job, possibly his family, and everything he holds dear. Coming out isn’t a choice for him, especially after his commanding officer gives him a creepy comic book (seriously, U.S. military? A comic book?) about how he can’t be gay and in the Navy at the same time.
I always say that the closet makes people crazy, and in this case, it leads Jeff to consider severe self-harm. He thinks about cutting out a tattoo on his leg when he hears that a gay man has been caught for cruising on his military base and is going to rat out the tattoos of every enlisted man he’s slept with. First of all, this is a bad idea because it doesn’t work (except as a plot device on Riverdale). Second of all, it’s a bad idea because who the hell wants to carve out their flesh in the shower with a box cutter and some alcohol?
After the comic book incident, Jeff tries to hang himself in the shower rather than come out, but he can’t do it. He’s suffering under “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” not only in the military, but also in his own mind. Maybe if he doesn’t talk about it, he seems to decide, he can be just a little bit gay. Even after he’s out of the military, he refuses to come out to his parents despite his sister insisting that he do it. He knows that she has his back, so why can’t he still be true to himself? After being in the military for so many years, the homophobia is coming from inside the house.
I didn’t really like the way the episode played out, however. We see Jeff first through Andrew’s eyes, when he plots a trip to Minneapolis (on American Express’s dime) in a last attempt at having a normal life by marrying David. Thanks to the last episode, we all know how that ends. I’m still fascinated with the series playing out backwardsbecause Andrew’s trip always had an air of failure about it, from the moment he shows up at the airport to a less-than-fuzzy reception from his former friends. Because of what we’ve seen, there is a much more sinister overtone to the proceedings.
What I didn’t like is that we see Jeff talking on tape about saving a man’s life in the military and how he wouldn’t do it again because that is what outed him to his fellow sailors. I feel like that really took away from the magic of seeing him actually save the man, comfort him in the showers, and get caught by that very imposing looking dude with a mustache. (How come the old-school bigots in these things always have a mustache?) If we didn’t know what was coming, it would have had more impact. The same goes for when he finally gives the interview later in the episode. It just seemed like needless repetition. The emotion could have been more intense if we didn’t see Andrew watching that video in the first place and didn’t know exactly what Jeff was going to say.
The relationship between Andrew and Jeff is also very confusing. Andrew definitely saved Jeff the first time he came into a gay bar: He needed someone to show him the ropes, prove to him that being gay wasn’t so awful, and to joke about his name being spelled out in sparklers on the bar. But eventually, Jeff is the only one who sees that Andrew is just spinning a bunch of lies, and that he’s a dangerous sociopath who could cause them all a lot of pain. David, on the other hand, sees Andrew as harmless and wants to help him. He even offers to break his date with the hunk in the leather vest so they can talk, but Andrew can’t abandon his “crazy stories” about starting a new life in San Francisco in order to ask for help. When he does accept David’s offer, it’s only as a pretense so that he can kill both David and Jeff. The crazy stories are stronger than any real connection with a human being.
What confused me was when Andrew and Jeff have their confrontation in Jeff’s sad apartment when he returns home to find Andrew eating Fruit Loops on the floor and his military uniform splayed out on the bed. He confronts Andrew about the story and about sending a postcard to his parents trying to out him. Even though Andrew saved him, Jeff wishes they never met. “The bars, the meals, the men. Everything you gave me means nothing,” he tells Andrew. “I want my life back. My real life, as a soldier.” Jeff equates gay life with Andrew and since Andrew is a person of mirages masking an empty and rotten core, he sees gay life the same way. We would assume that because Andrew was his role model, Jeff thinks it is impossible to live a rewarding and openly gay life. He sees gay values as being about fun times, meaningless sex, designer clothes, and hot go-go boys in star-spangled Speedos. That’s why he rejects both Andrew and gay life and ends up yelling at other veterans in the lunchroom of a shitty factory.
I could buy that, except that Jeff also has David in his life. We get hints that they’re a couple — even though David was obviously seeing other people — so why wouldn’t David be a good role model for Jeff? He’s openly gay, he has a successful career, and he’s a caring person who seems to be about more than just hookups in the back of bars. Shouldn’t Jeff see that he can have a life like David’s? Shouldn’t he know that Andrew is the negative extreme played up by the media and shitty military comic books?
Tragically, he doesn’t. Finn Wittrock does an excellent job showing Jeff’s pain and struggle, just as Darren Criss and Cody Fern have both been spectacular in the past two episodes. It’s going to be a really tough Emmy race if they wind up duking it out with each other. This episode as a whole, however, seems a little bit clunky. It’s just too much of a stretch to knit all of these stories together in a meaningful and emotionally impactful way. Still, the differences between these coming out stories is key to understanding exactly how and why Versace’s death happened, and I’m glad the show is drawing those unique parallels.
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