Tag: review

Reflections on FX’s The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story

Inspired by the real-life titular event in 1997 (and by Maureen Orth’s 1999 book Vulgar Favors), the second season of Ryan Murphy’s American Crime Story takes on the contested and mysterious case of Gianni Versace’s killer Andrew Cunanan, which culminated in what Orth called “the greatest failed manhunt in American history.” Cunanan killed four men before he got to Versace, and The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story shows us the murders in (more or less) reverse chronological order, interspersed with flashbacks and insights into both Cunanan’s life and the lives of his victims. Versace finished its nine-episode run on March 21.

Despite some unrealized ambitions, strange narrative gaps, and uneven pacing, Murphy turns the Cunanan case into a surprisingly, albeit modestly, successful TV tale. A psychological portrait of an enigmatic killer, this “crime story” also comes up with critical takes on police corruption and homophobia, classism, the AIDS crisis, the US military’s “Don’t ask, don’t tell” policy (DADT), and cultural narcissism. It doesn’t all work, but it worked better than I expected it to.

I’m fairly lukewarm on Ryan Murphy, and could never finish American Horror Story. I also missed the first season of American Crime Story, on the O.J. Simpson case – although I’ve heard it’s great. I do, however, remember the actual assassination of Gianni Versace; I was young but I loved fashion. Not knowing the details of the case I intuitively understood that the motivation had something to do with Versace’s extraordinariness. Even a child could see that Gianni Versace was a man to be remembered. That’s exactly what Versace’s killer Andrew Cunanan wanted to be, too – voted “least likely to be forgotten” by his class, in ACS Cunanan’s most fervent desire is to be impressive, special.

Cunanan’s crimes are horrifying in any context. But right now feels like a particularly inappropriate moment to have compassion for a psychologically turbulent lone gunman. Still, ACS: Versace boasts a wildly engrossing performance by Darren Criss (as Cunanan) that, although creepy as hell and harrowing at times, is not without sympathetic aspects. For the most part the series avoids easy answers and simple condemnations. The closest we get to a blanket condemnation is perhaps the police and FBI, who don’t seem to have a clue – or a care – what they’re doing. The one exception is Detective Lori Wieder, in an excellent turn by Dascha Polanco. The FBI is apathetic and the local PDs are disgustingly homophobic; everyone other than Wieder seems almost deliberately inept. So much so in fact that a recurring question for me became: could Versace have lived if law enforcement had been more willing to do their jobs?

We’ll never know, so for now we have to content ourselves with Versace’s Versace. The Versace family is a delight: Édgar Ramírez is downright touching as Gianni Versace, playing almost every scene with the gentle pathos of a man who seems to know he’s going to die. He’s radiant and wise, but a little bit sad, throughout – with more than a few suggestions of an HIV-positive diagnosis (the truth on this matter is still unknown). Penélope Cruz is superb as Donatella Versace, and Ricky Martin delivers a solid, if not especially noteworthy, performance as Gianni’s long-term partner Antonio D’Amico. Outside of the Versace clan, Ronnie (played by Max Greenfield) and Marilyn Miglin (played by Judith Light) are also captivating. And as far as I’m concerned, the Versace mansion counts as its own character as well. Fantastically luxurious and opulent, the designer’s house was recreated faithfully for the show and is a frequent scene-stealer.

The Versace family’s sacrifices, as well as their successes, poignantly illuminate Andrew’s own desperation to be “someone” – Gianni makes choices that define his fame and sphere of influence (listen for the great lines about why he could never be a novelist). His choices exclude as much as they include. Andrew refuses to make self-limiting choices; he doesn’t know how. Although as a whole The Assassination of Gianni Versace did little to change my life, there are a few parts that haunt me. In one memorable episode finale Andrew dances in a gay club, and as he twirls to Lisa Stanfield’s “This is the Right Time,” he unfurls one identity after another for his dance partner. “I’m a serial killer,” he says, “I’m a banker. I’m a stockbroker; I’m a shareholder. I’m a paperback writer. I’m a cop; I’m a naval officer; sometimes I’m a spy. I build movie sets in Mexico and skyscrapers in Chicago; I sell propane in Minneapolis. I import pineapples from the Philippines. I’m the person least likely to be forgotten.” Andrew can’t decide who he is, so in the end he settles – not on “man to be remembered,” like Versace, but instead just “least likely to be forgotten.”

Ultimately we are the choices we make, which always have consequences. Who do you want to be – and what will it cost you? More importantly, perhaps: what will it cost the people around you?

Reflections on FX’s The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story

We’ve come a long, long way together…

As a TV nerd, I’d been waiting impatiently for American Crime Story 2: The Assassination of Gianni Versace. Tom Rob Smith (The Farm, Child 44) has had my attention since London Spy (BBC2): a love story meticulously interlaced with a compelling tale of espionage. But where London Spy was dark and moody and set against England’s shadowy corners, The Assassination of Gianni Versace is brimming with beautiful bright colours and retro hues. The setting: 90s Miami Beach. It’s all billowing shirts, high-waist jeans and oversized suits. Versace started life in Reggio Calabria, a city adorned with ancient Greek art and architecture. In Versace’s home on South Beach, the head of Medusa, the face that turned onlookers to stone, embellishes all things that surround him: from espresso cups, to belt buckles, from plates to mosaic flooring. And just as with the boldness of Versace’s baroque and leopard prints, the show is sumptuous and lavish. The script is adapted from Maureen Orth’s book, Vulgar Favours (the Versace family called the book a work of fiction – even though the book is focussed more on Cunanan than Versace himself). Tom Rob Smith has used his own authorship to dramatise and fill in the gaps. It’s a powerhouse of a show, spread over nine episodes; as ever, Smith’s storytelling is meticulous and his characters are so compelling. It’s a brilliant watch – if you’re not already caught up in the hype, get into it.

I was young when Versace was killed, but I remember vividly the image plastered everywhere of the bloodied front steps to his house, surrounded by police markers. What I don’t remember at all, was the story of Andrew Cunanan: a guy described in his college yearbook as the most likely to be remembered. I wasn’t aware that Versace’s murder marked the end of Cunanan’s three-month long killing spree. As Gianni Versace went about his star-studded and accomplished daily life, penniless Andrew Cunanan’s intricate web of lies was progressively spiralling out of control. I never knew that there were four other victims.

Within the episodes that have been aired so far in the UK, there have been some stand out moments of poignancy for me, that go some way in reminding us of the extent of prejudice surrounding homosexuality and HIV in the 90s. It was devastating to watch the character of Antonio D’Amico (played by Ricky Martin)  holding his life partner’s body in his arms, begging for help, waiting for an ambulance to eventually turn up, as the crowds begin to gather. After Versace’s body is taken away, he sits in his bloodied tennis whites, distraught and shocked. An investigator questions him, prowling around the ornately decorated room, looking at it as though it is some sort of den of immorality; asking invasive questions on their private lives, on the “lifestyle choices” they made as a couple, insensitively poking about as though their ‘difference’ is why this tragedy has occurred.

And the terrible reality is that their ‘difference’ in the eyes of others, was the reason for Versace’s death – not because Versace and D’Amico were in a loving relationship, but because, as Edgar Ramírez who plays Gianni Versace says: “The underlying subject is homophobia and how homophobia killed him…It’s something that comes up over and over when we look into the investigation… Cunanan was on the news every night, on the most-wanted list, and for some reason all the law-enforcement authorities couldn’t get him.”

There’s contention around the assertion that Versace was HIV+ at the time of his death – the show claims that he was, the Versace family vehemently deny this. Episode one shows Donatella Versace sweeping in to her brother’s home, filled with grief and the preoccupation that her brother’s personal life is going to be wrenched into the public eye, scrutinised at the expense of the empire that he built. There had been a similar amount of anxiety surrounding his decision to publicly come out some years previously. Donatella immediately ostracises D’Amico from family matters.

Episode four charts the heart-breaking story of entrapment, fear and trauma in Cunanan’s murders of David Madson and Jeffrey Trail. After Cunanan bludgeons Trail to death in Madson’s apartment, they go on the run: Cunanan in the reverie of his denial, Madson fearing for his life, and for the lives of others. The episode is excruciating and suffocating, and when Madson finally gets an opportunity to escape, he can’t face it – going back to Cunanan is ‘easier’ than facing the reality of a society that would probably accuse of him of deviance, that probably wouldn’t listen. How could he prove that he wasn’t involved in Trail’s murder? How could he prove that this wasn’t some lurid ‘sex act gone wrong’ (a phrase often bandied around when in need to piece inadequate evidence together). As a gay man, he would surely be vilified for the behaviour of a psychopath. It makes you think how little sanctuary was offered to LGBT people in the eyes of the law, society and the criminal justice system at the time.

Cunanan was a “person who targeted people specifically to shame them and to out them, and to have a form of payback for a life that he felt he could not live”. He was able to kill five people over the course of three months, without being apprehended. Despite his face being on the FBI’s most-wanted list, he was able to rampage across the eastern side of the country. There were a number of bars and businesses that alerted the authorities of sightings. The FBI had promised to send 1500 flyers to the LGBT centre in Fort Lauderdale – the flyers turned up the day after Versace was shot. The FBI’s reason for the delay: printing issues.

“Police and F.B.I., clueless about gay culture, ignored leads and witnesses that could have led to his capture. The media sensationalised each crime with homophobic glee” (Patrik Sandberg, Dazed)

Anti-gay bias amongst the people whose job it is to protect members of society existed then and, although equality rights have moved forward considerably in the past twenty years, it still exists today.

Over in the UK, between June 2014 and September 2015, Stephen Port (known as the Grindr Killer) also found himself at liberty to commit his depraved murders. He lured his victims in via the app, dosed them with lethal amounts of GHB and raped them. (There are seven other men who managed to escape with their lives, but who now must live with the scars of having been drugged and sexually assaulted). Anthony Walgate, 23, Gabriel Kovari, 22, Daniel Whitworth, 21, and Jack Taylor, 25 were all found dumped in the same churchyard, in close proximity to Port’s flat. All the victims’ bodies had been propped up in the same way, the drug found in bottles in their hands.

The police knew that Port was connected from the start: he made the call to alert the police of the body of his first victim, Anthony Walgate. Even though the police knew the pair had been connected on Grindr, and despite the state of Walgate’s body – they still deemed the death a suicide. After Port had left his subsequent victims in the same state, the police unquestioningly bought his farfetched stories and they ignored the alarms raised by the families; they didn’t make any efforts to contact LGBT groups to follow any threads. The victims’ families were forced to take matters into their own hands. CCTV hadn’t been checked – when the police, after persistent pleas, finally did examine it – Stephen Port was clearly identifiable. The families of the victims have since announced they are suing the Met on grounds of negligence and misuse of power. The met have since initiated new guidelines on dealing with chemsex allegations.

There are alarming stats that show how members of the LGBT community do not feel safe when it comes to hate violence. In terms of the prevalence of violence committed on members of the LGBT community, transgender people are targeted the most, followed by gay men. Bisexual women, followed by transgender people and lesbian women, suffer the most in terms of hate-motivated attacks of a sexual nature. Across the board, most of the perpetrators are male, straight, and a person unknown to the victims. Most attacks have taken place in a street, square, car park or other public place. 36% of LGBT people say they aren’t comfortable holding their partner’s hand as they walk down the street. 21% of LGBT people regulate the way they dress for fear of discrimination and harassment – 40% of trans people adjust the way they dress for that reason.

Given the fact that LGBT people are most likely to be preyed upon in such a way, that the very act of leaving their home renders people vulnerable, you’d think that our police force would have adapted itself efficiently to deal fairly, correctly and respectfully with hate-violence victims from within the LGBT community. Yet, in the past year, 81% of LGBT people who experienced a hate crime or incident did not report it to the police, and only 12% of 18 – 24 year old LGBT people are likely to report a hate crime. One in eight LGBT people have been discriminated against because of their sexual orientation and/or gender identity when accessing social services – that’s three in ten for trans people. Black, Asian and minority ethnic LGBT people, and LGBT disabled people, are most likely to have experienced discrimination. 25% of trans people contacting emergency services in the last year were discriminated against based on their gender identity – one in six black, Asian and minority ethnic LGBT people (16 per cent) were discriminated against. The amount of people who worry about poor treatment when reporting hate crimes from within the LGBT community has not improved in the last five years.

This concern spreads to anxiety of treatment by judges and magistrates, and from within the prison system. As a result, it also limits career opportunities: 50% of LGBT people would expect to face barriers to becoming a magistrate because of their sexual orientation. 63% expect to face barriers to being elected as a Police and Crime Commissioner if their sexual orientation were known. As a result, none of these professional groups are representative enough of the society they serve.

In regards to the police force, an “obvious problem is the composition of the Police Service itself, and the lack of LGBT representation within it”. There are shining examples, such as the late Julie Barnes-Frank, who helped set up the Manchester Police’s Lesbian and Gay Staff Association and who was one of the first ever officers to take part in London’s Pride parade; who won awards for her work towards ending homophobia and changing policies within the police force. Also, PC Sam Philpot and PC Phil Adlem who both proposed  to their respective partners, in police uniform, during 2016 London Pride celebrations. But the police force in the UK is still reported as a ‘macho environment’, dominated by straight men – unrepresentative of our diverse society. The Gay Police Society, founded in 1990, has since been closed after losing its Home Office funding, and many members of the police force feel they cannot be out at work.

The UN has found that, amongst its member states, “Criminalization, discriminatory attitudes, harassment by police, stigma, ill treatment in detention and medical settings, lack of protective legislation, absence of complaints mechanisms, lack of trust in law enforcement officials and awareness by judicial operators still result in impunity for perpetrators and make it difficult for victims of human rights violations to access effective remedies and support”. More needs to be done. Dotted around this article is advice on what to do if you have been a victim of hate crime, as well as organisations such as Stonewall’s advice on how the police can do more to help the situation.

We’ve come a long, long way together…

American Crime Story: The Assassination of Gianni Versace, ‘The Man Who Would Be Vogue’

The first episode of The Assassination of Gianni Versace soon comes to the matter of Versace’s (Edgar Ramírez) death and following it, the question of Andrew Cunanan’s (Darren Criss) motives . We jump back and forth from that event to Andrew ‘s prior encounter with the fashion mogul, taking place five years earlier in San Francisco. Versace ends up asking Andrew to attend an opera Versace himself is costuming. During this time with Versace at the opera house, Andrew tells the designer that he is writing a novel, inspired by his own ‘crazy’ family — Andrew wants to be seen by Versace as a creator, as ‘worthy’. Earlier, in another scene, we see the young man with a dozen or more magazines laid out on the floor, absorbing them all. We are to take from this Andrew has been studying his mark — getting to know Versace before he knows him. Andrew is supremely, preternaturally skilled at seeing inside of those around him, knowing what to appeal to and how to do it. It is akin to watching a predator stalking prey, whilst they remain completely unaware of the danger they are in. The opera that brings to two together is Andrew Strauss’s ‘Capriccio’, the word meaning, ‘a painting or other work of art representing a fantasy or a mixture of real and imaginary features.’ The part shown is the overture, the capstone to the last opera Strauss composed before his death.

During the overture, Andrew shows true emotion (meaning it is occurs naturally, rather than a manufactured facet of who Andrew is at the time), crying openly and struggling to control himself. Capriccio is staged as an opera within an opera, a story within a story. We will see the stories within this huge opera and tragic spectacle of Versace’s death, just as with the O.J. Simpson trial and attendant show by the same creators. One of the final scenes of the opera sees a Countess — torn between two men — asking her own reflection in the mirror, “Is there anything that isn’t trivial?” Truly asking, ‘Does anything really matter?’ It is a question Andrew will have to ask himself, once his artificial selves fall away, leaving him alone to confront himself. What has this life of grandiose lies and deceit left him with, who is he really?

The first five minutes of episode one spends time juxtaposing Andrew Cunanan and Gianni Versace. Versace is a man who has everything: a house emblazoned and adorned with his own creations, with staff and a partner and people around him. Everyone recognises him on the street, he has friends — he has a life. Andrew Cunanan is an isolated figure on a huge beach, ill, coming apart; he has no one and nothing. As we come to see, everything about him is a falsehood, a concoction and a lie. He is a different person for every audience. He has no trouble, admitting this to a friend ( or rather, someone who believes himself to be Andrew’s friend); he only tells people what they need to hear. What he doesn’t say — the truthful heart of the matter — is that he lies to get what he wants from people:  respect, recognition, and to satisfy more material needs. The crux is that Andrew doesn’t see them as lies, because he truly is becoming another person. To him, there is the exterior person and if they are standing before you, they must exist, ergo, it is not a lie. This is not to say that Andrew is absolved morally of his outrageous, manipulative lies, it is more to show that he could easily lose himself amid the myriad personalities he creates for himself. Then, after the inevitable collapse of so much fiction, all Andrew is left with is his real self.

The Assassination of Gianni Versace could be said, in large part, to be looking at who Andrew really is. Is he simply a serial killer, deprived of empathy by nature? A conman who has lost himself somewhere inside the stories and personalities of his own creation? Or, is he someone looking for something that he himself doesn’t understand? The truth may be lying somewhere scattered among all of these questions. During their talk at the opera house, Versace says he hopes people will get to know him by wearing his clothes, to understand him. He tells Andrew ‘People will get to know you a little bit when they read your book,’. This is one of the linchpin lines of the episode. It is telling us explicitly that we are engaged in a study of Andrew, that we might “get to know him a little bit”. Except it is not a book that Andrew authors, but something terrible. A character like Andrew — a person like Andrew Cunanan, whose motives and actions remain opaque to this day — can seem to us like an inscrutable cipher. Their actions are so reprehensible as to make understanding them seem impossible, and to attempt to do so repugnant to our sensibilities. Yet, we still try to do it, and The Assassination of Gianni Versace is another attempt to deconstruct something huge and to find its essence — to find out why.

All of this goes alongside themes of salacious mass media and celebrity culture. One grisly example shows a young man witness to the stricken Versace sprint to his car to retrieve a camera, eager to take a snap of the mortally wounded man. He then stands before assembled media crews, and starts an impromptu auction in the street, mere feet from the crime scene. Another scene sees previously-denied Versace autograph hunters press a Versace magazine Ad into Gianni’s pooled blood. Then, there were the global headlines announcing the fashion giant’s death, the reports and rumours about his private life, his health and potential pre-connection to his eventual killer.

The other main plank of the episode pertains to the control of Versace’s legacy — business and personal. His sister – Donatella (Penolope Cruz) and brother Santo (Giovanni Cirfiera) — arrive to exert control over what the public and police find out about their brother. The victim of this is Verace’s long term boyfriend, Antonio (Ricky Martin). He has to face blundering, cold inquiries from a detective, who asks whether Antonio was paid for his relationship with Versace. He faces questions, asked in an offhand manner, that no wife or girlfriend would have to answer. Antonio is forced justify his relationship with Versace — 15 years long — hours after the death of his partner, still covered in his blood. Donatella treats Antonio no better, telling him he is to speak to no one without consulting her first. She shows no care for him in their shared time of grief, viewing him only as a potential embarrassment which must be suppressed.

Matters then immediately turn to business and image. Donatella tells assembled lawyers that they (the press, the public) “judge the killer, yes, but they’ll judge the victim too. First, people weep, then they whisper.’ This is another key line in the episode, summing up the maelstrom of lurid tabloid headlines that followed Versace’s death. Donatella makes it clear that she views the perceived abasement of Versace’s image as akin to killing him twice. Donatella sees herself and assumes the mantle of a bulwark, taking her brother’s empire onto her shoulders. She rejects the forthcoming public offering Versace had arranged for his company, stressing the need to keep it in the hands of family, not strangers.

The episode ends with Andrew, strolling along the Miami beachfront, Versace sunglasses covering his eyes. He views racks of newspapers all bearing the news of Versace’s death, buying a clutch for himself. Andrew smiles as he takes it all in– he has created this. Something he has done created worldwide news, and recognition is finally his. It brings us back to the title of the episode, The Man Who Would be Vogue. This could be seen to be a double-edged play on the title of a book Andrew carries with him. We see him pull a copy out of his bag, alongside his gun. ‘he Man Who Was Vogue is a book about Conde Naste, a publishing magnate who found his fortune and establishing fame with the purchase of Vogue magazine in 1916. Over time, Naste positioned the magazine as a repository for style and elan, making it a byword for the new and the visionary. Andrew, through his actions, becomes a kind of monstrous vogue; his ‘work’ on the cover of every highbrow and lowbrow newspaper, tabloid and magazine. He is wanted nationwide, pursued by the police and FBI. He has finally found a way to create something fame-worthy, via the destruction of others.

American Crime Story: The Assassination of Gianni Versace, ‘The Man Who Would Be Vogue’

The Best TV Shows of 2018 So Far

7. American Crime Story: The Assassination of Gianni Versace (FX)

FX’s American Crime Story (not to be confused with American Horror Story by the same creators and on the same network) has established its MO: pick a real, high-profile murder, dramatize it, and nail it. After 2016’s hugely well-received “The People v. O. J. Simpson,” the show followed up this year with “The Assassination of Gianni Versace,” which just finished on March 21st. The physical likenesses alone are worth mentioning, as is the out of left field but welcome appearance of Ricky Martin (yes, that one) as Antonio D’Amico, Gianni Versace’s partner. But the most notable asset is Darren Criss as Andrew Cunanan, pathological liar, creepshow extraordinaire, and murderer. While Versace’s life and the impact of his death are great in their own right, it’s Cunanan’s story that’s truly fascinating. Told in a series of nonlinear scenes, it offers a strange and specific dual view into the world of gay men in the mid-90s, and into the mind of a serial killer. If you haven’t seen ACS yet, go watch it on FX’s website immediately, before it disappears. –Liz Baessler

The Best TV Shows of 2018 So Far

https://api.soundcloud.com/tracks/420273660/stream?client_id=N2eHz8D7GtXSl6fTtcGHdSJiS74xqOUI?plead=please-dont-download-this-or-our-lawyers-wont-let-us-host-audio

EP 35 – SMOKE WEED ABOUT IT

Sean and Jon are back and they get into the weeds on a couple of extremely stupid stoner comedies! Sean appreciates the fin er points of Jack Black’s ability to curse, Jon laments the utter straightness of these brogressive time-wasters, and they both find common ground with their love of the Jackass franchise. Watch/Rewatches this week include Saving Silverman, Game Over Man, The Assassination of Gianni Versace, Fargo (TV), and Ru Paul’s Drag Race. | 29 March 2018

*from 41:07 to 42:25

“The Assassination of Gianni Versace” Was a Rejection of Glamour

“When I first started in television, they only gave me thirty minutes to make an impression,” says Lee Miglin’s widow Marilyn, in the final episode of American Crime Story—which by now, in its ninth hour, has had 540 minutes to do the same, and which has revealed itself in increments to be far less about Versace than about queer lives, and queer death. The impression that it leaves is somber, and funereal, and its slow-burn voyeurism ends up feeling like an act of violence.

More than Gianni Versace’s ghost, the show is haunted by the specters of injustice, prejudice, complacency, heteronormativity, et cetera, et cetera; these are the spooks that make it just as much an American horror story as a crime one. Miglin’s widow is brought back, somewhat unsubtly, as a heart-rending reminder of the chaos Andrew Cunanan has caused throughout the season. When she talks about her marriage to Cunanan’s former john-turned- murder victim, Lee, as being like “a fairytale,” we’re meant to hear the “fairy” part a little louder. Mirrors are a motif in this final hour, so that when Andrew, on the run and hiding on a houseboat in Miami, is about to blow his brains out, he can’t help but turn and look at his reflection. In his mouth, the gun looks phallic; and because the gun looks phallic, it is hard not to assume that Cunanan is seeing himself (for the last time, no less) as the “faggy” kid his father mocked, “a sissy boy, with a sissy mind.”

“It is not the least bit coincidental that adults who commit suicide with firearms almost always shoot themselves in the head,” David Foster Wallace said. “They shoot the terrible master.” With one shot, the sissy mind is violently evacuated, and the sissy boy that murdered all those men is dead. The true identity of the “terrible master” in this case is unclear: hours before the suicide, Modesto, Andrew’s father, is on TV offering up exclusive rights to the story of his son’s wild murder spree. The television screen, another mirror, shows Modesto’s callousness to Andrew, and shows us the son and killer’s face in fragments when Andrew Cunanan furiously smashes it and turns it black. A further dark obsidian mirror in Gianni Versace’s tomb will later throw back the distorted face of his distraught and grieving sister, Donatella, overlaid on a baroque medusa’s head. The line is blurred between man, woman, and inhuman monster.

Being a heterosexual woman born in 1988, I’ve had the luxury of being surprised by just how far American Crime Story’s real-life twists and turns have been informed by attitudes towards gay men that seem, to me, completely prehistoric. (I believe this is called “privilege”—although if you would prefer to call it “ignorance,” I would not necessarily correct you.) When the cops detain and interview a drug-addict named Ronnie who has previously sheltered Andrew, his despairing monologue sums up the season’s heaviest message: Andrew Cunanan did talk about Versace, Ronnie shrugs, but then, “We all did. We imagined what it would be like to be so rich and so powerful that it doesn’t matter that you’re gay. The other cops [before Cunanan killed Gianni]—they weren’t searching so hard, were they? Why is that? Because he killed a bunch of nobody gays? The truth is, you were disgusted by him long before he became disgusting…. People like me, we drift away; we get sick, and 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.”

I looked up the difference between “murder” and “assassination,” and it turns out the dividing line is fame. American Crime Story turns out to be not much interested in fame or in famousness at all, but in the stories and the histories of queer men: the sons like Andrew Cunanan, yes, but the fathers, too—the closeted gay husbands of bored housewives, and the would-be husbands of out gay men who were not allowed to marry. Several times in the show, two men discuss the possibility of marriage; and in every instance, one man says, “We can’t,” and means it literally. Ronnie sneers in his big, heavy-handed monologue that men like Cunanan are “born a lie.” In fact, the lie is thrust upon them. The truth is the thing that dogs them, and that haunts them, for no reason other than the fact they’re told they should be haunted by it. (Who is saying this? The terrible master—as informed by Daddy, or by God, or by society, or by fear of the self.)

In a write-up of the second episode, I mentioned that the show avoids Milan Kundera’s definition of true kitsch—“the absolute denial of shit, in both the literal and the figurative senses of the word”—by showing us the ugliness, the evil shit, straight off the bat. “Shit happens,” I wrote then, “and then you die; a lot of this shit is unearned, unfair and brutal. A lot of this shit is painful and undignified, and it kills.” Since that week, a great deal more grim shit has happened onscreen. Many more have died. The death toll stands, eventually, at six, which is not much compared to something like The Walking Dead, but is a fairly heavy number for a true-crime series with nine episodes.

Andrew Cunanan dies ignobly on the houseboat, having been surrounded; Gianni Versace, so rich and so powerful it did not “matter” he was gay, is shot and killed; Antonio, his lover, is first excommunicated from the Versace family, and then tries to overdose. Andrew’s mother opens up the door to the FBI, and simply asks if they have killed her son. Modesto, sleazily, remains there in Manila trying to monetize his son’s horrendous crimes. Not happy to reject kitsch’s denial of all shit and leave it there, American Crime Story goes one further and—having first teased us with its possibility, and its seductiveness—rejects all glamour. It is its own slick obsidian mirror, gallows dark and too reflective. It’s affecting, and it’s hard to finish. There’s no other way to put it: what it shows us is entirely too much shit.

“The Assassination of Gianni Versace” Was a Rejection of Glamour

The Bay Area Reporter Online | ‘Versace’ finale was full of darkness

It was even harder to let go of “ACS: Versace.” The finale was extraordinary, full of pathos, yearning and darkness. We’ll say again, Darren Criss deserves all the awards for his tour de force performance as serial killer Andrew Cunanan. The range of his portrayal is sheer magnificence, particularly in the gutting last two episodes, where Cunanan’s relationship with his fabulist father is revealed, as are his final days trapped on a houseboat eating dog food until he takes his own life. Matt Bomer made his directorial debut with episode eight, which details Cunanan’s relationship with his sexually abusive and emotionally suffocating father.

Judith Light’s performance as Marilyn Miglin, widow of Cunanan’s real estate tycoon victim Lee Miglin, was one of several standout performances by guest stars. The Tony- and Emmy-winning actress took what was a small role and turned it into a template: Her Marilyn Miglin was every woman ever married to a closeted gay man, and through her performance we see the turmoil created by internalized homophobia. She adored her husband. Discovering his sexual orientation in the way she did, through his grisly murder, shattered her world, but she kept it together. Marilyn Miglin provides the coda in the finale.

Other riveting performances include Edgar Ramirez’ Versace, a warm, unprepossessing man with few pretensions, given his fame and wealth. He was always the boy from Calabria, his mother’s son, cutting out patterns in their dining room. Ramirez’ Versace gave voice to the gay 80s and 90s, the complexity of coming out famous and also living with HIV. It was an understated performance that was pitch-perfect and made us love Versace right from the intense opening scene in the first episode to the very end.

Ricky Martin as Versace’s longtime partner Antonio D’Amico felt real and deeply emotional. Martin played D’Amico as the sexy, younger lover of Versace who was nevertheless devoted to the designer. Martin would bring other men home for threesomes that Versace appeared to engage in reluctantly until he finally said no more. Then D’Amico said he would give up all other men because his love for Versace came first.

All of which made the way Donatella (Penelope Cruz) cut D’Amico off both personally and financially after Versace’s murder particularly cruel. When the priest at Versace’s funeral never mentions D’Amico, his pain is palpable. His suicide attempt in the final episode is searing.

Every scene in this lush, rococo tale of a murdering fabulist and his victims is visually sumptuous, whether set indoors or out. The Miami sky is always on the verge of storming by day, while the skyline by night is supersaturated color and incredibly alluring.

“ACS: Versace” was Murphy’s least-watched series, which is hard to fathom. So if you were one of the many who never saw it, binge all nine episodes over a long weekend. It will leave you aching.

The Bay Area Reporter Online | ‘Versace’ finale was full of darkness

Assassination of Gianni Versace: Darren Criss drama sparks meltdown with horrific twist

The series, currently airing on BBC Two, has had viewers gripped for five episodes but tonight it seemed some struggled to watch the harrowing scenes.

Fans will remember that last week’s instalment saw psychopath Andrew (played by Darren Criss) kill both Jeffrey (Finn Wittrock) and David Madson (Cody Fern).

But tonight’s episode drew everything together with the backstory on Jeff and his tough time suffering as a gay man in the US Navy.

What’s more, the story is all the more heartbreaking because Andrew hadn’t acted on his murderous tendencies until he reached the end of his tether with his first love.

Yet what really shocked viewers was the tragic truth of Jeff’s treatment in the military.

Hiding his own sexuality, Jeff was forced to witness another gay colleague get badly beaten but he managed to save him just in time.

It meant that Jeff was outed however, and as his own pain became too hard to deal with, the character tried to commit suicide.

Unable to go through with it, it appeared that Andrew was his saviour when they met in a local gay bar.

After striking up a conversation, Andrew helped Jeff through his struggles in the Navy but he couldn’t have been prepared for what was to come from their new friendship.

Viewers were more concerned with the difficult scenes in tonight’s episode, as some claimed they were too much to watch.

Taking to Twitter, fans came together to share their feelings.

One person wrote: “This behaviour was only 23 years ago. Dear god. x #ACSVersace.”

“Oh s**t no no no no #ACSVersace,” another shocked fan said.

A third agreed: “This is so awful and heartbreaking #ACSVersace.”

While a fourth shared: “I can’t watch! All this violence and murder and for some reason him cutting his tattoo off is a step too far for me #TheAssassinationOfGianniVersace #ACSVersace.”

Fans continued to lament over the character’s heart-wrenching story, as one said: “Jeff’s story is honestly heartbreaking and he deserved better from life. #ACSVersace.”

“Poor Jeff. Poor anyone being treated like this #ACSVersace,” another upset fan wrote.

Meanwhile viewers continued to praise the show’s writers as one person added: “American Crime Story is absolutely brilliant. Oh and @FinnWittrock is amazing #ACSVersace.”

Assassination of Gianni Versace: Darren Criss drama sparks meltdown with horrific twist

Critic’s Notebook: The Blinding Whiteness of Nostalgia TV

But for me, there’s a lot more exciting programming where nostalgia is kept at arm’s reach. In fact, a slew of contemporary series set in the ‘90s — only one of which, incidentally, features a white male protagonist — have proved much better at scratching that scrunchies-and-flannel itch while recalling the Clinton era for what it was. Netflix’s teen dramedy Everything Sucks! initially feels like a ride in a time machine — no other show captures the clothes and lingo of the ’90s so precisely — but the show features a budding black filmmaker and a teenage lesbian as its dual protagonists. That’s also true of the most recent season of American Crime Story, which explores in part the anti-gay sentiment that enabled Gianni Versace killer Andrew Cunanan’s murder spree. The previous season of ACS, The People v. O.J. Simpson, similarly used hindsight to illuminate how race and gender dynamics warped “the trial of the century.” And the 2015 HBO miniseries Show Me a Hero, about an anti-desegregation effort in Yonkers and set between 1987 and 1994, evinces no nostalgia at all, and is all the more powerful for its firm unsentimentality.

Critic’s Notebook: The Blinding Whiteness of Nostalgia TV