Tag: march 2018

American Crime Story: Versace Is A Much-Needed Lesson In Empathy

On Wednesday night (March 21), the Season 2 finale of Ryan Murphy’s American Crime Story placed the final puzzle piece in the jigsaw of Andrew Cunanan’s story.

The twisted narrative that spanned his 27 years and pushed further back in time with each new episode ultimately led us right back to where we started in the premiere: to the days after Gianni Versace’s murder. But the feelings toward Cunanan (Darren Criss) that we were left with as he took the life of his final victim — himself — are markedly different than those we felt as we watched him approach the gates of Versace’s (Édgar Ramírez) mansion and murder the celebrated fashion designer in cold blood.

But contrary to our usual feelings toward a central character, it’s not sympathy that we’re feeling. It’s empathy.

“When people say, ‘How can you humanize somebody like this?’ I say because he’s a human being. Everyone is human. Although, unfortunately, he’s famous for horrible things that I am not exonerating him for – they are deplorable and a tragedy and unforgivable,” Darren Criss told MTV News. “I’m not playing a killer; I’m playing a person.”

Starting with the one point of familiarity in Cunanan’s story — Versace’s murder — it felt like the only way forward was to go backwards, building a visual of the spree killer’s history with each episode and introducing us to him as a gay man in the throes of unrequited love, and before that as an escort for older men, and before that as the prized son of an immigrant who tangos with federal law and ultimately flees the country, leaving his family behind.

All the while, we have a constant reminder of who he ultimately becomes as we watch him pick off his five known victims: Jeff Trail, David Madson, Lee Miglin, William Reese, and Gianni Versace.

“We start with him as this absolute monster who is doing the worst crimes, and so up front we’re saying, ‘This is who he is.’ And then we’re saying, ‘How’d he become like that?’” writer and executive producer Tom Rob Smith said. “One of the advantages of the backwards narrative is you’re very clearly telling the audience, ‘This is someone who’s done these absolutely terrible things,’ so when you get into that stuff, you’re not trying to say that forgives him. That’s just to say where he comes from.”

Executive producer Brad Simpson agreed, “It doesn’t excuse what Andrew has done, but it explains it.”

This ability to understand a person, regardless of whether they were right or wrong, is empathy in its most pure, unaffected form, and being able to empathize with someone who confidently and consistently makes bad decisions helps us identify those turning points in which they begin to lose their sense of morality. In watching Cunanan’s early missteps, one can’t help but feel that this spiral was “preventable,” said Simpson.

“When you go back to his childhood, you see that this is a kid who wasn’t born to be a murderer. He’s somebody who might’ve been a little unstable, but he was talented. He was somebody you and I might’ve been friends with in high school because he was extroverted and interesting, and something went wrong,” Simpson added. “Here’s a kid who was the product of some sort of bad childhood situation and at some point, somebody could’ve helped him and they didn’t.”

Interwoven in that dialogue is an exploration of LGBTQ culture in the ’90s, a time when Don’t Ask Don’t Tell seemed more like a blanket rule than a military creed and the AIDS epidemic incited fear and prejudice toward the gay community. Versace navigated that feeling of shame that often comes with rampant homophobia and the lingering effects of it, as told through the dual narratives of Versace and Cunanan, two charismatic men who took drastically different paths.

“It was such a lonely period of time,” described Max Greenfield, who played Ronnie, a struggling HIV positive gay man in Miami and the closest Cunanan had to a friend in the two months before he murdered Versace.

In the finale, Ronnie poignantly stands up for his marginalized sect of society while being questioned by the FBI, asserting that the authorities failed to locate Cunanan because they “were disgusted by him long before he became disgusting.” He evokes the empathy that was built upon throughout the season, adding that Cunanan was never hiding; “he was trying to be seen.”

“One of the things that we’ve talked about is how dangerous it is … when you tell people that their voices don’t matter,” Greenfield said.

“When you do it from such an early age, when you’re sending that message to a young person who then thinks without even being told that their voice doesn’t matter or that they should be ashamed of who they are and ashamed of what they think and what they believe and their voice – it’s heartbreaking, and, really, the result of it can go in any different kind of way. That’s what the story is. It can result in beauty in Gianni Versace’s case, and it can result in real chaos and terror in Cunanan’s case.”

American Crime Story: Versace Is A Much-Needed Lesson In Empathy

The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story Season Finale – Reel Talk

Nine weeks ago, FX premiered the second season of their anthology crime series, American Crime Story.The first season touched upon the sensationalized O.J. Simpson trial and it lured in millions of viewers who are still fascinated by that media circus some 20+years later. While the first season was compelling television, the element of surprise was missing. Anyone with an iota of memories has some knowledge of the murders of Nicole Brown and Ron Goldman and the subsequent trial that interrupted regularly scheduled programming for weeks. Ryan Murphy, the mastermind behind this series, is at his best when making television based on salacious headlines and his attention to detail did not disappoint. That being said, Murphy and his team could only do so much to tell us things we didn’t already know and that element always made it seem like the show was recreating acts we have already seen so many times before.

The second season of American Crime Story took a different approach. The crime in question dominated headlines in 1997 but unless you are a true crime junkie, it’s one of those stories that faded into the background. The July 15, 1997, murder of fashion designer Gianni Versace shocked the nation at the time because it was so brutal and so sudden. Soon the world knew that the man who took his life was 27 year-old Andrew Cunanan and so many theories abounded as to why he did it. Was it random? Was he an obsessed fan? A case of mistaken identity? These were questions taken to Cunanan’s grave when he committed suicide on July 23.

Or so that’s how it seemed to the general public. Bits and pieces of Cunanan’s road to murder were revealed on news outlets but the FBI knew so much more about Cunanan’s journey. Versace wasn’t his first murder, in fact over a three month period, Cunanan took the lives of four other people: naval officer Jeffrey Trail, lover David Madson, Chicago real estate developer Lee Miglin, and caretaker William Reese. The beginning of these murders put Cunanan on the FBI’s Most Wanted List (in fact he was the first person to be put on the list as the Internet became a more significant tool to utilize this method) but Cunanan didn’t achieve the headlines he longed for until he gunned down Versace and the world really wouldn’t know anything about his prior victims until various documentaries and news programs decided to fully delve into the case.

The sense of mystery surrounding Cunanan and his motives is why the second season of American Crime Story has been compelling television from start to finish. The season began with the murder of Versace but subsequent episodes worked in reverse and essentially explained how we got to that pivotal moment on the steps outside of Versace’s Miami mansion. Because Cunanan was known to present a different version of himself to those who knew him, a lot of the series is based on speculation and tidbits from those who crossed his path throughout his life. A lot of what we saw over nine weeks is largely fictionalized but the heart of the story has an undeniable ring of truth.

The biggest complaint by most watching the series as we headed to the finale, which aired last night, was that for a show called The Assassination of Gianni Versace, there was very little about Versace or his inner circle. This was clearly Cunanan’s story but as a viewer, I can understand the slight misdirection. Versace is the name the public knows and his murder is the crime that most remember. This is the name that will make people watch. Ryan Murphy has also said that it was heavily considered to put Cunanan’s name in the title but it was ultimately decided that this would glamorize him and that’s something they did not want. For me, the most significant reason to use the Versace name and then tell a larger story beyond the fashion designer’s life and murder is that it brings awareness to the victims that didn’t make all the headlines. The episodes detailing naval officer Jeffrey Trail and David Madson and their fatal encounters with Cunanan were the best the series had to offer because it finally humanized these two men who simply were an afterthought in the media coverage. The episodes went into more than how they met Cunanan and how they were murdered, they made the people you cared about and that made their demise at his hands all the more tragic. You felt as you watched their episodes, which spanned more than a single arc, that these guys finally got their voice. The depiction of their murders was brutal but more poignant and memorable was the depiction of how they lived.

The Versace aspect was never frivolous, however. There were a few times that the Versace story would run parallel with Cunanan’s journey. One episode dealt With Donatella Versace’s unease and rise in her brother’s industry as it explored Cunanan’s rise as a kept man in the world of rich men. Cunanan came from money but his father ultimately abandoned the family, leaving his kids with their mother in less than favorable conditions. Versace’s story showed how he got to where he was based on hard work while Cunanan’s showed that he wanted the things Versace had but didn’t feel like he had to put in the work to do so. This is a man who thought something was owed to him and his descent into madness escalated as the world and character he created for himself began to fade away.

For those who wanted more Versace, the season finale took us back to the events of July 15, 1997. Having explored Cunanan’s road to murder, the finale deals with the manhunt for Cunanan and the eight days he spent in hiding as the media firestorm erupted from his murder of Gianni Versace. The frantic final days of Cunanan’s life, again, are largely fictionalized because the one person who knows how they were exactly spent was Cunanan and he subsequently took his life alone on a houseboat and with that act, achieved the infamy he so desired.

Much of the episode dealt with Cunanan becoming increasingly more emotional and hopeless as he took shelter in a houseboat, watching Versace’s larger than life Italian funeral on television and reminiscing about his time with the designer. This is another bone of contention, especially with the Versace family. They vehemently deny that Versace knew Cunanan at all while others who had some knowledge of Cunanan’s life, believe they crossed paths at some point. One motive for Cunanan’s rage against the designer was that maybe he tried to get into Versace’s inner circle at some point and was denied. Cunanan apparently held on to grudges when it came to those who wronged him on some level and that makes this Versace speculation have some air of truth.

Another interesting aspect of the episode had nothing to do with Cunanan. The relationship between Versace’s grieving sister Donatella and his lover, Antonio D’Amico has been explored sparingly throughout the series and what we gathered is that these two didn’t like each other. This seems to be more on the end of Donatella who circled the wagons and ultimately pushed D’Amico out. He was promised the Lake Como property by Versace himself but Donatella and the board don’t allow this to happen. The scenes are played to emotional perfection by Penelope Cruz and Ricky Martin and while both performers were a bit underused over the nine episodes, they did get a few moments to shine and I think they will ultimately be remembered come award’s season. To do what they did with so little by giving so much is a testament to their talent.

Before we get to how this story ends, it’s important to touch on the cultural significance of this story and its views on society as a whole. The People v. O.J. Simpson dealt with race relations and its impact on the trial during season one, while this season zeroed in on the complexities that the gay community weathered in the late ’90s, and how homophobia continues to pervade society. Nowhere is this more apparent than in the pointed speech delivered by Ronnie (Max Greenfield) to the Feds after they bring him in for questioning over Cunanan’s whereabouts. Wiry and HIV-positive, Ronnie berates them for their insensitivity and idiocy in not catching Cunanan sooner while he was in plain sight in Miami. The one thing that most know who followed this story is that it’s largely believed to be one of the biggest FBI fails of all time and a lot of it has to do with how they perceived the murders before it was too late. This was a gay man killing other gay men and that became the narrative rather than simply finding a growing spree killer before he took more lives. Ronnie’s line in last night’s episode sums up their approach best:

“The other cops here, they weren’t searching so hard were they, why is that? Because he killed a bunch of nobody gays?…You know what the truth is, you were disgusted by him, long before he became disgusting. You’re so used to us lurking in the shadows. Ya know, most of us, we’re obliged! People like me, we just drift away, we get sick, nobody cares, but Andrew was vain. He wanted you to know about his pain, he wanted you to hear, he wanted you …he wanted you to know about being born a lie. Andrew is not hiding. He’s trying to be seen.”

Throughout the series, we have seen some compelling performances. Finn Wittrock gave humanity to naval officer Jeffrey Trail that would likely make those who knew him proud, while Cody Fern gave you poignant insight into Cunanan’s most personal victim, David Madson. The namesake of this series can’t be ignored either. Edgar Ramirez has turned in fine work as Gianni Versace, portraying him as driven but ultimately a sensitive soul who was proud of his accomplishments. Whether it was pushing his sister Donatella, or tender moments with Antonio, Ramirez hit all the right notes in the role and gave the character much more depth than was probably on the page.

That being said, the real MVP here is Darren Criss. From start to finish he has delivered on all fronts as Andrew Cunanan. This isn’t an easy role to portray. Cunanan was a known liar and manipulator but for awhile he was able to get people to buy what he was selling. He was charming but, as we know now, largely unhinged. Criss balances all of these aspects of his personality with the greatest of ease and he makes it so seamless that it’s pretty scary to watch. To be likable on one level and out of your mind insane is no easy feat, but Criss makes it look effortless. Glee made Criss a household name but this is the kind of role that makes you a star. If he doesn’t sweep all the awards for his portrayal here, it would be a travesty of epic proportions.

As we reach our conclusion, the series ends with one of those parallels I touched on earlier. Cunanan ultimately shoots himself and, after the events take place, a final scene juxtaposing Cunanan’s unremarkable final resting place and lack of mourners with Versace’s opulent mausoleum and Donatella’s palpable grief is a tragic but fitting into the themes that the series explored. Cunanan wanted the things Versace had but couldn’t obtain them. Whether it was love, wealth, fame or admiration, Versace earned those things based on his character and the world mourned him. Cunanan tried to achieve these things based on lies and deception and he ended up dying alone. Cunanan was voted in high school to be “most likely to be remembered” and in a way he was, but that final image of him, with a self-inflicted gunshot wound through his mouth as he laid there a former shell of himself, is probably the last way he wanted to be seen.

The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story Season Finale – Reel Talk

Darren Criss Delivers Performance of The Year in The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story (Review)

The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story explores the murder of designer Gianni Versace by serial killer Andrew Cunanan, based on Maureen Orth‘s book Vulgar Favors: Andrew Cunanan, Gianni Versace, and the Largest Failed Manhunt in U.S. History.

I was not familiar with the details surrounding the mid-90’s murder of Gianni Versace and I did not fact check ANYTHING while watching ACS Versace. Much to my surprise – this story was INSANE. Literally one of the most impressive and profound true stories about a man’s descent into madness. Darren Criss’ performance as spree killer Andrew Cunanan is legendary. Think American Psycho meets Taxi Driver and we’re starting to get the whole picture here. Criss deserves every single acting award coming his way. There will not be a better acting performance in 2018 or maybe even years from now that can match the intensity and sadness that Criss has put on display here in these nine incredible episodes.

I know that the title of the series has Versace in it, but American Crime Story is all about Andrew Cunanan. We dive deep into the psyche of a killer and although we will never know WHY he did what he did, you will damn sure have a better understanding what led Cunanan down this path of death. Writer Tom Rob Smith doesn’t sympathise with Cunanan so much as peel back the layers of mystery of his life, so that viewers get the entire story, including that of his victims who all deserved to have their stories told in a profound way. Cody Fern for example — is a future star. Watch for that kid to do some amazing things down the road. Ryan Murphy stuck to his guns by casting Criss, known for Glee and his work in music and that decision turned out to be one of the best casting decisions of all time for the smallscreen. Hell – Ricky Martin could get an award too for playing Versace’s lover – those scenes in the finale – in the church? Unreal.

Following up the OJ Simpson mini-series was a huge undertaking, but I honestly think that ACS Versace was a sprawling and epic drama that did a better job getting into the mindset of everyone involved in this sweeping tragedy. Edgar Ramirez and Penelope Cruz literally BECAME Gianni and Donatella Versace, not only in their physical appearances, but the accent and essence of these fashion icons. We do delve into the Versace family for a while and it’s very intriguing, but the split of the show does feel like a 90-10% split with Cunanan and his other victims’ storylines taking up most of the screentime. I’m not complaining though – I’m obsessed with true crime and serial killers (last year’s Mindhunter was made for me), so having more time dedicated to understanding what may have drove Cunanan to murder was the right choice.

From the opening episode which shows the murder of Versace, to the final episode which wraps up all the loose ends in devastating fashion, ACS Versace might be the best mini-series yet from Ryan Murphy. And I’m including American Horror Story in that declaration. Darren Criss BECAME Andrew Cunanan for this role. You will not see a better character study of a serial killer than you will here. These nine episodes are constantly jumping back and forth in time (which I’m told may have turned off some viewers with its sporadic story structure) but I think that was the correct choice to take people on a better emotional journey. If we were to have told this story chronologically — I don’t think it would have captured our attention. The sporadic narrative was a necessary evil in order to uncover the essence of Cunanan’s insanity. There’s a monologue in the finale where Max Greenfield tells the police that Andrew isn’t hiding – he’s wanting to be seen and it really does sum up what happened with the botched investigation and pursuit of Cunanan in general. He was a gay man, killing other gay men — so law enforcement didn’t give a shit back then. Plain and simple – sad but true.

The glorification of serial killers isn’t what we were going for here and by the end of the series — Cunanan is most certainly not celebrated in any way whatsoever, but I do feel like Criss’ performance is culturally one of the most significant and impressive acting performances of our time. Whether he’s seducing older men with his IDGAF dance moves in a speedo, or when he’s wrapping tape around his face while having a shower – Criss is doing something unlike any other character in years. He’s bizarre, scary and at times – enigmatic. The episode in which he shows up to a party, rips off his trenchcoat to reveal that red leather suit and struts right into that house like a boss – is one of the best scenes of 2018. Andrew just wanted to be remembered and although the murderer will likely fade into obscurity, I hope that Criss’ iconic performance stands the test of time. It’s that good.

Rating: ★★★★★

Darren Criss Delivers Performance of The Year in The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story (Review)

The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story Review: Alone (Season 2 Episode 9)

The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story Season 2 Episode 9 “Alone” is still compelling to watch but falls a little flat. “Alone” was always going to be a hard sell because much of the episode, Andrew is, well, alone and he is more dynamic when he is with other people.

We have seen Andrew in all sorts of forms—charming, predatory, menacing, confident—but when he’s by himself, he is just kind of blah.

In the days after Andrew killed Versace and there was a stepped-up manhunt in Miami, Andrew was in hiding. He could no longer afford to be out in public or else he risked capture.

So, much of the episode is Andrew trapped in a houseboat.

A highlight of “Alone” is seeing Judith Light as Marilyn Miglin again. She steals every scene she’s in and damn it, when Marilyn is on the verge of tears, I’m on the verge of tears too.

The story she tells about how she wanted to make a perfume that her mother would have worn is such a great story and evokes so much emotion.

Even Andrew is in awe of her. But there is no glimmer of remorse.

It’s interesting to see how when Andrew first breaks into the houseboat, he’s still giddy from killing Versace and to see his name paired forever with Gianni’s. The houseboat isn’t exactly lavish, but Andrew enjoys a bottle of champagne to celebrate his latest murder.

But then, food runs out. He eyes a can of dog food attempts to eat it and then vomits.

No, he is not that desperate–yet.

After seeing David Madson’s father on TV (which Andrew seems to be a little obsessed with the coverage of himself), he calls his father.

I wasn’t expecting to see Modesto again but even watching Andrew and Modesto talk on the phone elevated the excitement of the episode.

After seeing how things ended with Modesto on The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story Season 2 Episode 8 “Creator/Destroyer,” I’m surprised that Andrew reached out to him.

I never thought for a minute though that Modesto was going to help him. In fact, it wouldn’t be surprising if he had ratted out Andrew for financial gain.

As the days go on, we see that the rest of the dog food has been eaten. Modesto has not come to save Andrew and he has become the cockroach he trapped under glass.

Without much fanfare, Andrew is discovered at the houseboat and it is there, that he puts a gun in his mouth and pulls the trigger.

We’re then taken to the scene from the first episode where Gianni and Andrew are backstage at the opera. Andrew tells Gianni that he wants to be special and he’ll convince the world that he is.

Gianni: It’s not about persuading people you’re going to do something great—it’s about doing it.

And there we have it summed up in one line how completely different these two men are, no matter how they are forever connected.

“Alone” did show Donatella and Antonio briefly although it’s just plain sad to see how Antonio was treated. He isn’t acknowledged and is shunned at Gianni’s funeral and then is told that he may not have anywhere to go as the property Gianni promised him is controlled by the label’s board.

The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story’s biggest failure is the time jumps and the way the season is structured. “Alone” is the finale, however, there just isn’t enough to it to really pack a punch.

I think it would have been better if throughout the season we saw the aftermath of Versace’s murder intercut with Andrew’s previous murders. There isn’t much of a build-up to when Andrew is discovered and when he commits suicide.

By breaking up the manhunt, this final episode may have had more energy. I just feel like I watched an episode of Andrew watching TV.

That being said, I still enjoyed the whole season of The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story. There were so many brilliant performances, but Darren Criss takes the cake.

He is amazing on every episode and plays so many versions of Andrew. It’s exciting to watch.

The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story is also very sad because I kept wanting the victims to survive.

The characters may not reflect their real-life counterparts one hundred percent, but I was invested in each and every one of them. There are lots of memorable moments throughout the season, but none of them felt sensationalized. And even though Andrew was humanized, his actions were never excused.

It’s disappointing that “Alone” is the weakest episode, but it doesn’t diminish the excellence of the episodes that came previously.

Rating: 3.5/5

The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story Review: Alone (Season 2 Episode 9)

Why The Assassination of Gianni Versace Is the Year’s Most Underappreciated TV Show

“Hiding? He wasn’t hiding.”

So says South Beach staple Ronnie Holston (the enthralling Max Greenfield) of his erstwhile “friend,” Andrew Cunanan (Darren Criss), in the season finale of American Crime Story. Though the episode culminates in Cunanan’s suicide, as the manhunt for the spree killer comes to an end, it’s here, under questioning, that Ronnie explains Cunanan’s motive—and with it The Assassination of Gianni Versace’s raison d’être, which is the belief that the meaning of stories is dependent on both their creation and their reception, each subject to proliferating points of view. “The other cops, they weren’t searching so hard, were they?” Ronnie asks. “Why is that? Because he killed a bunch of nobody gays?”:

You know, the truth is, you were disgusted by him long before he became disgusting. You’re so used to us lurking in the shadows and, you know, most of us, we oblige. People like me, we drift away. We get sick, nobody cares. But Andrew was vain. He wanted you to know about his pain. He wanted you to hear. He wanted you to know about being born a lie. Andrew is not hiding. He’s trying to be seen.

Ronnie’s monologue is indelicate, but it’s also imperative. Despite emphasizing the authorities’ negligence, their unwillingness to rub elbows with the queers at Twist or Warsaw Ballroom in order to catch Cunanan—despite elaborating, as I wrote at the start of the season, an ambitious, unorthodox, potent, frankly astonishing reconsideration of what it means to be and be called a faggot—the response to Versace from many critics has most often made it seem minor, or niche: “Serial killer porn” with “a cipher and supposition at its core,” a “short-story collection” set against Season One’s “epic,” “cheap” “wall dressing” instead of “uncompromising” high art, “a padded adaptation of The Talented Mr. Ripley,” a “spectacle,” a disappointment, a flop. As The Washington Post’s Hank Stuever wrote, in the most explicit dismissal of this sort, “The failure of Versace is that it takes a case that is at best vaguely remembered (mostly by fashionistas and gay men) and tries to apply to it the same degree of resonance and insight [as The People v. O.J. Simpson].”

To crib from Lili Loofbourow’s brilliant exploration of “the male glance,” or the impulse to diminish cultural artifacts produced by, for, and about women, the reception of Versace begins to suggest its heteronormative corollary: “the straight glance.” Though Stuever’s linguistic slippage—between critiquing the series for failing to find resonance in the case and critiquing the case for lacking resonance in the first place—is the clearer tell, the implication is present in others’ digs, too, not least their remarkable alignment with the tacit hierarchies Loofbourow identifies. That The People v. O.J. Simpson leans on supposition and spectacle in its own right—from its tragicomic glimpses of Kato Kaelin, Faye Resnick and the Kardashian kids to the flirtation between Christopher Darden and Marcia Clark—or turns Simpson into a cipher—more symbol than character—of course goes unmentioned. In this hermeneutic, The People v. O.J. has the sweep of a historical epic, and a subject (Race in America) to match, whereas The Assassination of Gianni Versace is a cheap, compromised imitator, invested in problems—the AIDS crisis, “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell”—that no longer plague us. In this hermeneutic, the former is drama, the latter “porn.”

Unsurprising, then, that so much of the critical discourse surrounding Versace fixates on the series’ treatment of homophobia, only to elide its essential queerness, or blithely raises the subject of certain cultural traditions—porn, opera, horror, camp—only to leave such associations more or less unexamined. The point here is not that Versace is above reproach—Richard Lawson’s superb, decidedly mixed review, for Vanity Fair, is proof enough of that—or that there should be no room for critics to disagree. It’s that the reception of Versace reproduces a familiar script, such that even critics sympathetic to the series seem as uncomfortable with its central subject as the Miami cops were with those South Beach fags. If one is to explain the season’s reduced “cultural relevance,” there’s no point beating around the bush with references to its tonal “learning curve”: In terms of generating the high ratings and broad critical acclaim that transform a mere TV program into a bona fide “phenomenon,” the most underappreciated series of the year so far—and, for my money, the best—might have been too gay for its own good.

In truth, Versace’s vexing reception illustrates the very resonance its critics suggest it lacks. If the season can be said to possess a singular theme, after all, it’s the one Ronnie echoes in his interrogation: For all the strides made on this front in the past two decades, American culture continues to undervalue, misunderstand, disdain, or simply ignore the queer experience—not because it’s hidden, but because we aren’t looking. Consider the series of episodes focused on Cunanan’s spree before he reached Versace, a daring, reverse-chronological-order disruption to the traditional structure of “true crime”: In “A Random Killing,” “House by the Lake,” and “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell,” which commemorate the lives of Lee Miglin (Mike Farrell), David Madson (Cody Fern), and Jeff Trail (Finn Wittrock) and relate the profound terror of their deaths, Murphy, writer Tom Rob Smith, and directors Gwyneth Horder-Payton and Daniel Minahan offer a brief tour of queer convention. The roseate palette of Marilyn Miglin (Judith Light) and her cosmetics line reminded me of Douglas Sirk’s (or Todd Haynes’) melodramatic baubles, displacing repressed emotions onto an unhappy wife; the shower sequence that follows Trail’s gruesome murder is reminiscent of Psycho, with Cunanan standing in for Norman Bates; Madson and Cunanan’s twisted, tense, ultimately fatal road trip suggests the New Queer Cinema, via Gregg Araki’s The Living End. The queerest episodes of the series, aesthetically speaking, are those most desperate to be seen and heard—those committed, in the series’ most admirable gambit, to reasserting the presence of those so often erased in the glare of that morning in South Beach. (That this does not extend to Cunanan’s fifth victim, cemetery caretaker William Reese, is at once the series’ one glaring moral shortcoming and, perhaps inadvertently, further proof of its radical approach: In Versace, reacting to more than a century of screen entertainments, it’s the murder of a straight man that’s considered incidental.)

As Ronnie declares in the season finale, it’s the tabloid spectacle of Versace’s murder that finally focuses investigators’ attention, and following from his superb Feud: Bette and Joan, Murphy renders the viewer complicit in the sensationalism, only to pull the rug out from under us as the series proceeds. If The People v. O.J. cuts through the haze of “the trial of the century” to (re-) discover the humanity of the attorneys on both sides, Versace (literally) works backwards from its most visible moment to do much the same for the men Cunanan murdered—interwoven with Criss’ gripping, genuinely harrowing portrayal of the monster responsible for making them characters in the same American crime story. In this context, the most common criticism of the series I’ve encountered, that its title is “misleading,” begins to read as nothing more than a form of derailment. The series does not promise a biopic of Gianni Versace, but rather the (longue durée) tale of his assassination, and it delivers: Trace its dovetailing threads back to beginning, and what emerges is a bracing acknowledgement that the forces by which a pair of strangers find themselves on opposite ends of a gun barrel are multi-stranded, root-and-branch—perhaps beginning with parents, family, community, society, but also including an inordinate number of forking paths, personal choices, possibilities opening and closing, fortune and fate. In its structure as in its queering of television tradition, The Assassination of Gianni Versace is an ideal meeting of form and function. What critics failed to see, in comparing it endlessly, fruitlessly, frustratingly, unfavorably to The People v. O.J. Simpson—in framing it as prima facie less “resonant” or “insightful” because it defies the mould of the “important” drama, the “unforgettable” case—is that the series is not in fact minor, or niche. It is, at its bruised and buried center, about a few of the central questions of queer life, and queer art: How to be, and when, and where, and to whom, and why the many seductions of the range of answers might go hand-in-hand with the many dangers.

I suppose this was the undercurrent of my earlier paean to the series, and to its treatment of “faggot”—that unutterable word, that unforgivable commonplace, that useful descriptor, that reclamation. To my mind—as to Ronnie’s, and perhaps to Murphy’s—the most fantastical figure in the series, the one I struggle to see myself in, is not Andrew Cunanan, with his shame, his fear, his eagerness to be seen and heard, to be “special.” It’s Gianni Versace. For the series’ nervy, imperfect, radical, frankly astonishing gambit is to suggest that the closet might be enough to drive anyone crazy—it’s a kind of “double consciousness,” for lack of a better term—and that there are nonetheless countless other factors separating assassin from icon. Its expansion of the possibilities for the queer stories we see on TV—movies got there first—Versace is an evolution, albeit a flawed one, and the resistance to reading it as such, I’d argue, is at the heart of critics’ failure to appreciate it.

It’s that “flawed” part, in the final estimation, that made the series irresistible to me, which Ronnie’s monologue—and its unplanned reminder of Cunanan’s own—so forcefully captures. Us faggots, we are bankers, stockbrokers, shareholders, paperback writers. We are cops, naval officers, and sometime-spies. We build movie sets in Mexico and skyscrapers in Chicago. We sell propane in Minneapolis, import pineapples from the Philippines. We are queens and con men, somebodies and nobodies, fashion designers and fledgling TV critics, assassins, icons, and everything in between. The season defines itself by its refusal to hide the range of queer stories—of human stories—that TV can spin, stories of success and failure, love and hate, heroism and villainy, life and death. The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story, which focuses on a man desperate to be remembered, another too famous to be forgotten, and those whose legacies deserve to be respected—reclaimed—is ultimately animated by one central belief, one indelicate imperative: Queer lives matter, and not just their ends.

Why The Assassination of Gianni Versace Is the Year’s Most Underappreciated TV Show

‘The Assassination of Gianni Versace’ Went Out with a Bang

What’s more embarrassing for the FBI—that they couldn’t find Andrew Cunanan in the three months between his first killing and the murder of Gianni Versace, or that they still couldn’t catch him after he shot a celebrity in broad daylight?

Either way, the second season of American Crime Story would’ve been very different if Cunanan had lived to tell his story. Maureen Orth’s Vulgar Favors offers as complete an account of his life and death as seems possible, but she—and we—can never know exactly why Versace was his ultimate target, or what was going through his mind as he picked off each of his five victims. As writer Tom Rob Smith has observed, Cunanan is “this kind of vortex, a dark abyss. Once he starts killing people, he crosses a line, and he isn’t really human in a way that we understand.”

As a result, while The People v. O.J. Simpson could stick close to the facts, The Assassination of Gianni Versace was, like Orth’s book, necessarily fleshed out with conjectures. Its finale, “Alone,” gets the gist of Andrew’s last gasp right: On July 23, 1997, eight days after killing Versace, Cunanan put a gun in his mouth and fired. His presence on a two-story houseboat in Miami Beach was first noticed by its caretaker, Fernando Carreira. (The vessel’s owner and his possible connection to Cunanan is a different story.) When he saw that the curtains were drawn, Carreira grabbed his gun and started searching, but left when he heard a gunshot. Police and news teams soon swarmed the area. By the time the cops ended the standoff, entered the boat and found the place littered with copies of magazines like Vogue, Cunanan was dead.

What we don’t know is how Cunanan spent the final week of his life. Did he try to escape from Miami? Did he follow the news about him and Versace on multiple televisions at once? Did he resort to eating dog food? We have no idea. Did he really speak to his father? Apparently not, although Pete did hope to make a movie about his son—and accept thousands of dollars to appear on TV, where his primary concern seemed to be denying Andrew’s homosexuality.

Police fielded various tips as to his whereabouts, almost all of them unhelpful. On July 16, the owner of a sailboat anchored not far from the houseboat reported a break-in. Orth reports, “He found old pita bread and newspapers open to stories of the Versace killing, including Versace’s hometown paper, Milan’sCorriere Della Sera. He also saw a man resembling Cunanan sitting on a bench nearby reading a navigational guide book that he later realized had been taken from his boat.” But no forensic evidence was ever recovered. The FBI’s manhunt was a failure on every count.

Despite some moments of doubt, the last two episodes of Versace have, as far as I’m concerned, cemented the season as a worthy successor to O.J. First of all, the acting was superb, from Darren Criss’s lead performance to the many great recurring roles. And it was nice to see Judith Light, Ricky Martin, Dascha Polanco, Annaleigh Ashford, and Joanna P. Adler (who plays Andrew’s mom) one last time, in an episode that elegantly checked in with all of the people affected by Andrew’s rampage. But the best scene in “Alone” was Max Greenfield’s return as Ronnie, Cunanan’s friend in Miami. “You were disgusted by [Andrew] long before he became disgusting,” he tells police interrogators, in a sharp indictment of societal homophobia. “Andrew’s not hiding—he’s trying to be seen.”

This seems to sum up Smith’s ultimate argument: In a world that Cunanan’s high school classmates were so sure he’d make an indelible impact on, some combination of selfishness, laziness, lying, egomania, self-delusion, a chaotic family, homophobia, classism, and racism rendered him invisible. That invisibility both catalyzed his murder spree—a last, desperate attempt to matter—and ensured that it was able to continue for so long. Smith resists the temptation to “humanize” Cunanan or justify his behavior, but he doesn’t excuse society as a whole from the role it played in making him the monster that he finally became, either. The season’s final shot, which fixes on Cunanan’s plaque at the mausoleum before pulling back to show that his is just one among hundreds of identical vaults, is a perfect rejoinder to his longing to be special.

What we’re left with is the uncomfortable certainty that American Crime Story rescued Cunanan from the dustbin of history—and that he would’ve been thrilled to know that there would be a whole season of TV devoted to him more than 20 years after his death. On the other hand, the ongoing American Dream narrative, which used everyone from David Madson to Lee Miglin to Gianni Versace to imply that we live in a meritocracy and the only thing standing between Andrew and success was his allergy towards work, was the season’s weakest note. If you understand race and class in America, you know that the reality is a bit more complicated than that.

Anyway! Let’s not make this all about Cunanan. Before we close the curtain on this fascinating story, let’s do a final check-in with the major characters who resurfaced in the finale.

Elizabeth Coté

Cunanan’s longtime friend and former benefactor did, in fact, go on TV to implore him to turn himself in. Her plea, which was more or less identical to the one that appears in the episode, was released the same day Cunanan died. The line where she says, “I know that the most important thing to you in the world is what others think of you,” comes straight out of the real statement. Coté later consulted on a TV movie about Cunanan that never came to be.

Marilyn Miglin

I covered most of Marilyn Miglin’s life, post-Lee, in an earlier recap, but suffice it to say that she put herself back together pretty quickly. She brought her son, Duke, in on the real-estate and cosmetics businesses, before forcing the sale of Lee’s company and remarrying in the fall of 1998. To this day, the family denies that Lee and Duke had any connection to Andrew.

Ronnie

Even though Andrew had written down Ronnie’s room number on his pawnshop form, subjecting his friend to a terrifying encounter with a SWAT team, Ronnie covered for Andrew, claiming not to recognize him in a photo.

MaryAnn Cunanan

When Orth spoke to MaryAnn for Vulgar Favors, she was living in a one-bedroom bungalow in National City, with a memorial garden for Andrew outside. She still didn’t believe he killed Versace (although she did acknowledge that he probably killed the other four victims). A few months after Andrew’s death, between making multiple paid appearances on newsmagazine shows, she attempted suicide.

Modesto “Pete” Cunanan

Pete remained in the Philippines throughout his son’s ordeal—Orth reports that he hadn’t visited the States since his departure in 1988—making an unsuccessful case that Andrew’s cremated remains should be shipped to him and that he should have control of Andrew’s estate, such as it was. He also remarried, hunted for gold bullion that he believed Japan had left in the Philippines at the end of World War II, and joined a New Age cult called Church Universal and Triumphant.

Antonio D’Amico

As the Versace portion of the finale suggests, Antonio got a rough deal after Gianni died. He spent August of 1997 with Elton John and his partner, David Furnish, in France. Back at work in the fall, Donatella ignored him. And though Gianni had stipulated in his will that Antonio should have a monthly allowance and access to his homes, it turned out that those residences were owned by the company. So, Antonio settled with the Versaces for a lump sum and an apartment. He left the company’s atelier, in January 1998, in the company of a security guard. The scene where Antonio tries to kill himself is, unfortunately, true. But, as of 2017, he was living in the Italian countryside with a new partner and his own line of golf clothing.

Donatella Versace

There’s no mystery surrounding Donatella’s life after Gianni’s murder—she’s been a celebrity, the subject of ridicule and a designer in her own right ever since. Although she struggled at first, with grief, with cocaine addiction, with her daughter Allegra’s anorexia, and with finding her voice, Donatella got clean and started making smart hires in 2005. By now, she’s kept the brand afloat for over two decades. “Now,” she said in a fascinating Guardian interview from 2017, “I feel like the death of my brother made me strong. But for a long time it was a trauma.”

‘The Assassination of Gianni Versace’ Went Out with a Bang