Apparently not having overwhelmed myself enough already with the ugliness of Andrew Cunanan’s cross-country killing spree, this week I started reading Three Month Fever, Gary Indiana’s book about the case. “[A] synthesis between ‘the classic serial’ and ‘the classic spree’ killer,” writes Indiana in its preface, “Cunanan seemed less a threat to the general public than to familiar narrative genres and their claims to classicism.”
American Crime Story does not share the same disdain for a conventional crime narrative, nor for a classic serial killer trope. It does disdain conventional chronology, which helps explain why this week’s episode is dedicated to the Minneapolis-set murder that begat—or at the very least began—the spate of killings, even though it is the series’ fourth. Cunanan’s first victim was Jeff Trail, whose great misfortune stemmed from having slept with Cunanan’s intended long-term partner, and his sometime lover, David Madson. Madson, a young up-and-coming architect, bore witness to the crime, which happened in his gorgeous home: the episode begins with Andrew having lured Jeff to the front door. There are lingering, worrying shots of Madson’s photogenic dog.
Andrew Cunanan, a homme fatale, is both scorned and resentful of the straight world’s status quo.
The blows begin to rain the moment Jeff steps in. Ensuring we will never forget Cunanan’s first time, the sound design conspires to make us feel we’ve seen all twenty-seven hammer strikes. Blood Pollocks up the wall. It pools around the body like a wet, red joke: so bright and so extravagant in volume that it looks like Pop art, or a cartoon. Cunanan describes the killing as a loss of control, which would feel far truer if he did not say this in a voice so even-tempered and considered that nobody ever sounded more assured. If David calls the cops, he says, they will suspect him, too. The dog howls bloody murder. David ends up on the run with Andrew, looking even more like a conspirator than if he’d stayed.
A seducer, then a killer, Cunanan exists as a kind of male inversion of the hot-but-crazy femme fatale, whose unnerving affect tends to be mistaken for erotic freakiness instead of—well, just freakiness. Often, femme fatales are furious because they want to game the heterosexual system, which casts men as the deciders and the femmes, who ought to be obliging rather than fatale, as something men decide on. Sometimes, they are women scorned. Andrew Cunanan, a homme fatale, is both scorned and resentful of the straight world’s status quo. “They hate us, David,” he explains, fanning out gay porn as manufactured evidence. “They’ve always hated us. You’re a fag!”
“He has this feline intuition,” David says at one point said to Jeff, an observation notable for the fact that almost no one likens men to cats. Cunanan, aloof and neat and perfectly methodic, is a cat. (With this in mind, I had expected him to kill the dog. Thank God: he does not kill the dog.)
Jeff, meanwhile, is a cute, blonde, jockish boy with close-cropped hair and an appealing but unmemorable face, which means he’s nearly interchangeable with David. (Nothing stranger than white racists who insist that other races look homogenous, when most attractive Chrises and hot Laurens look—to me, at least—like variations on one milquetoast factory model.) Loving one’s own doppelganger might be the textbook definition of a narcissist, at least the way Narcissus happened to embody the idea; a sociopath like Cunanan might, under different circumstances, understand the impulse.
As it happens, Jeff and David’s interchangeability succeeds in throwing the police. They call the murder, first and with an air of casual disgust, “a gay thing.” They assume that David is the dead man, and a hookup’s gone far south. They’re half-right, in the sense that David Madson is a dead man walking from the minute he steps out with Andrew Cunanan—that while the latter sees their going on the lam as a lovers’ road trip, an excuse to sing along to Technotronic on the radio and fantasie about how Mexico will look at sunset, Madson sees a monster. One day later, Cunanan has killed him, too: strike one, and then strike two, of five eventual strikes.
3. The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story Network: FX Last Week’s Ranking: 2
Last week’s emotional heavyweight “House by the Lake” focused on the psychological torture and eventual murder of architect David Madson (Cody Fern). But the hint is that the killer of Gianni Versace (Edgar Ramierez), Andrew Cunanan (Darren Criss), got to Madson via Jeff Trail (Finn Wittrock), the man he bludgeons with a hammer in the first minutes of the episode, so we’ve been primed to expect this week’s installment to take us back to how Trail got wrapped up in this horrible spiderweb. The fifth episode of American Crime Story’s second season is the first not to have an actual murder in it, but trust me, it’s doesn’t make anything less painful: “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” is a layered meditation on uniforms and conformity, masks and unmaskings. It moves back and forth in time in a way that’s easy to track but a little hard to describe; there’s a logic to this episode that poets will recognize. It turns on symbol and metaphor at least as much as plot, and it has a lot of layers of commentary on… well, on the nature of identity, when you get down to brass tacks. —AmyGlynn
The long-awaited second installment of the miniseries American Crime Story may include Gianni Versace’s name in the title, but this season truly focuses on the sociopathic serial killer who murdered him —Andrew Cunanan. In 1997, the 27-year-old ended a three-month cross-country murder spree by shooting and killing the beloved Italian designer, Versace, outside of his Miami, Fla. home.
Like its O.J. Simpson-centric predecessor, The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story (10 p.m. Wednesdays, FX) — based on Maureen Orth’s nonfiction book Vulgar Favors: Andrew Cunanan, Gianni Versace, and the Largest Failed Manhunt in U.S. History — examines a very public and publicized crime. But many don’t remember or even recognize Cunanan the way they do the players of the Simpson trial, and even less so his bizarre story and the murderous path that led to Versace’s South Beach doorstep.
Similar to how The People vs. O.J. Simpson featured a limited amount of Cuba Gooding Jr.’s Simpson, this season is really about Cunanan. While viewers are treated to indulgent glimpses of Versace’s life, there are entire episodes devoted to his killer’s journey. Cunanan was a chameleon — he exhibited the unique ability to significantly alter his appearance with just a pair of glasses and haircut — and could be very charismatic and convincing. The same can be said of actor Darren Criss, who nails Cunanan’s manic, psycho killer ways. Cunanan wasn’t a skilled murderer, but he was a deranged one — one who managed to evade authorities for months. Getting to know Cunanan’s background and what makes him tick — as much as can be understood — makes him all the more terrifying.
Where The People vs. O.J. Simpson delved in to the larger race issues of the time, The Assassination of Gianni Versace contemplates the implications of being gay, particularly for men in the 1990s. And those experiences vary greatly between characters. Of course you have Versace, who was an openly gay man with a partner of 13 years, Antonio D’Amico. As the founder of an international fashion house, Versace was able to publicly come out in Advocate magazine in 1995, despite his sister Donatella’s concerns about the effect it would have on the company. He was no stranger to personal struggles; in the show, it is revealed that Versace was HIV positive (his family has long denied this).
But being a wealthy celebrity, Versace saw some privileges that most gay men at the time did not experience. Cunanan’s first victim was a former U.S. naval officer who we see struggle with “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” and gay-bashing in the military. Cunanan himself used his sexuality to take advantage of and manipulate people. He frequently befriended wealthy, older men — sometimes closeted men with wives and families — and bragged about the lavish gifts he’d receive. In a split second, he’d hold the arrangement over their heads as a threat.
Iconic figures and lesser known real-life characters come to life thanks to a phenomenal cast. Criss will undoubtedly receive award attention for his role; the Versace siblings are uncannily portrayed by Édgar Ramírez and Penélope Cruz. Ricky Martin’s take on D’Amico is surprisingly solid. Other supporting actors like Finn Wittrock and Max Greenfield (regular players for producer Ryan Murphy) and newcomer Cody Fern give fantastic performances, if only for an episode. The top-notch acting, paired with colorful, extravagant sets, thoughtful storytelling choices and a spot-on soundtrack make this season a feast for the senses.
Versace is truly Murphy at his finest — it’s scarier than American Horror Story, with dark humor à la Nip/Tuck and dotted with his signature camp featuring a heavy dose of glamour and the grotesque. And yes, I think it’s better than Simpson.
The TV giant just signed a five-year, $300 million deal with Netflix (one of the biggest in TV history), but that doesn’t mean Murphy’s many 20th Century Fox projects are making the move or getting cut short. American Crime Story will continue for at least two more seasons, which will focus on Hurricane Katrina and the Clinton-Lewinsky scandal; his other projects American Horror Story, Feud and 9-1-1 all have new seasons in the works. As if he isn’t already, Murphy is about to be everywhere, but let’s hope he focuses on quality, not quantity. Because when he’s on his game, he can produce a work of this caliber — one that’s not to be missed.
This week, in Kay’s absence, Boyd and Steph are joined by silent producer John to go through the weeks ahead’s top pop culture offerings. They look at Sky Atlantic’s new Lennie James drama ‘Save Me’, the second series of American Crime Story and three times Oscar (*ding*) nominated ‘I, Tonya’. They also discuss ‘Seeing All Red’, ‘One Bad Choice’, ‘Loveless’, ‘A Very Fatal Murder’, ‘George Ezra & Friends’, ‘Table Manners’, ‘Strike’, ‘This Country’ and Chris Rock’s new Netflix special ‘Tambourine ’. John also gets berated for using too many syllables and there’s a huge reverse ferret from Steph. The usual nonsense. | 20 February 2018
This week, Clint and Allison are joined once again by SyFy and Paste’s Jacob Oller (and the absentee picks of lost-but-not-forgotten co-host Kate Kulzick of The Televerse) as we break down the Crazy Ex-Girlfriend finale, Netflix’s new ’90s nostalgia show Everything Sucks!, and gush about the return of The CW’s galactically silly superhero show Legends of Tomorrow. | 20 February 2018
This week, a special guest star stole our hearts in The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story while some Legends had us laughing with their epic one liners.
Check out what shows and performances made our list for this week’s feels!
Top Performer
Clare: This week Finn Wittrock from The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story just edges out over Darren Criss of the same series. I have been a fan of Wittrock’s since he first appeared on American Horror Story in season 4, and he has certainly played his fair share of creepy AF characters, so it was really good to see him in a completely different role and boy did he impress. That was one hell of a journey his character went on in this week’s episode and he nailed every aspect of it. The honour of serving his country, the shame, humiliation and sense of being trapped due to Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, the excitement of going into a gay bar for the first time and finally being able to be himself, through to the modern-day confrontation with Andrew Cunanan. Some really exciting work here from Wittrock.
Bec: While I’m certain Darren Criss will cinch the Best Actor in a Miniseries/Movie category at the Emmys this year, I think that Finn Wittrock will win for Best Guest Star or, at the very least, nab a nomination. I was a sobbing mess by the end of the episode. Like Clare, I think he nailed every aspect of it.
Verena: This week of television was rather slow for me, as not many of my shows aired new episodes. But I gotta give it to Finn Wittrock as well. What a wonderful performance in American Crime Story,heartbreaking and genuine. This week’s episode was his to shine. Next week we’re likely back to showering Darren Criss with praise.
Emmy: I’m siding with all you ladies as Finn Wittrock stole my heart and soul with his performance as Jeffrey Trail. Given that Criss has been pretty much the runaway star of the series so far, Wittrock’s performance blew my mind and broke my heart. As a military brat and someone who has grown up with soldiers, I felt every emotion in this episode as I know how much these soldiers give to their country and how hard it must have been for Trail to leave the service, especially under such sad circumstances as his heart was torn with wanting to serve his country but also be true to himself. If Wittrock doesn’t get a nod or a win for this episode, it will be a damn shame. Not to mention, as if I needed anymore reasons to hate Cunanan, Jeffrey’s murder just gave me another one.
Top Episode
Clare: With a number of my shows on hiatus for the Olympics, there wasn’t much competition for my top episode this week. However, even if that wasn’t the case, The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story’s “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” would have been hard to beat. The juxtaposition of Gianni Versace’s story and coming out with Jeff Trail’s story and inability to come out provided viewers with a chance to see just how far we’ve come with LGBT rights and acceptance, but also how bad it was and the impact it had on people’s lives. We also got to see the beginning of Andrew’s life start to unravel – addicted to drugs, having money issues, unemployed and people, his friends, starting to cotton on to his immense fantasy life and pulling away from him. A hard-hitting but extremely important hour of television that the cast and crew created this week.
Bec: To the shock of everyone, I’ll also give “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” the edge for best episode this week. It was a compelling hour of television and captured the late 20th century gay rights movement totally. Jeff Trail’s story resonated while Criss continues to give a star-making turn as Andrew Cunanan. It was just a riveting hour of television and proved what the thesis of this season for American Crime Story, which you can read about here.
Top Moment
Clare: I don’t have a moment this week, but more a series of moments that are all linked; Jeff’s trials in the navy. From when he saves the gay sailor from being bashed, to him comforting him, to his attempt to remove his tattoo, to being called into the Captain’s office and given the creepy comic book on respect and dignity, to him reading the comic and deciding the only way out is to take his own life. This sequence was extremely difficult to watch but no doubt left an impression on its viewers. Wittrock handled this with dignity, respect and class. My heart just broke for him.
Emmy: The whole series of Jeffrey preparing to kill himself. From the shining of his shoes to the ironing of his uniform with such precision pretty much broke me as we saw a man who was so full of pride for his job ultimately give it all up in heartbreak.
Quote
Clare: “You destroyed me! I wish I never walked into that bar! I wish I never met you!” – Jeff Trail (Finn Wittrock) – The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story.
Emmy: “No one wants your love!” – Jeff Trail The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story
This is the second season of the FX anthology series American Crime Story. The first season was known as The People V. O. J. Simpson, which was about the murder of Nicole Simpson and Ron Goldman in 1994, as well as the infamous trial of NFL player O. J. Simpson that followed. That series featured an incredible cast giving incredible performances. It was also incredibly written to expose the issues of racism, sexism and media culture that the trial brought out. This season is attempting something similar but the way it’s going about it is different and more in-line with a Hollywood trend that I don’t much appreciate.
Hollywood over the past decade has output a lot of TV shows where the villain or bad guy is the protagonist. Specifically, there have been a significant number of programs where a serial killer is either the protagonist or main character who takes center stage in protagonist-like ways. Some notable examples are Dexter on Showtime, The Following on FOX, Hannibalon NBC, The Fall on Netflix, the recently cancelled Time After Time on ABC, and Bates Motel on A&E. There are other TV shows that fit into this mold like Breaking Bad on AMC or House of Cards on Netflix.
Each of those shows are exquisitely crafted, but each are problematic in their own ways. A lot of the time it depends how those shows ultimately end. A lot of those aforementioned shows can really revel in the gore and violence like Hannibal, much as a horror film would with the goal of disturbing the audience, but the ending can shape how all that revelry should be received, or what the takeaway should be.
The ending to Dexter was atrocious, but the ending to Bates Motel was superb. Therefore, my feelings about this series might change based on how it ends. Unfortunately, this series is based on a true-crime where the outcome is known. It’s not like Dexter, which is a fictional narrative. I can already guess based on how the first five of nine episodes go on how the ending will affect me.
In many of these stories about serial killers, the anchor is often the police or the detectives investigating. In The People V. O. J. Simpson, the anchors were the lawyers, specifically the prosecuting attorneys. If anything, the breakout stars of that season were Sarah Paulson who played Marcia Clark and Sterling K. Brown who played Christopher Darden. Clark and Darden were the prosecuting attorneys. Those anchors help to keep the whole thing from sinking totally into depravity. Those anchors as counterparts aren’t always required, but there’s got to be something to keep us from sinking into total depravity and I’m not sure this show has it, or if it does, whatever it is gets lost.
For example, The People V. O. J. Simpson never actually depicted the murders of Nicole Simpson or Ron Goldman. The series begins with them already dead and moves forward, never focusing or lingering on the corpses. There are five murders here. Three of which are particularly gruesome and this series chooses to depict all of them. It’s not as if we see Nicole Simpson getting stabbed to death and nearly decapitated. Yet, we do witness the murders as they occur here. Instead of moving forward, it goes backward. This show does also linger on the corpses. There’s a trade-off for that. On one hand, we get to know the victims here in ways we don’t get with Nicole Simpson and Ron Goldman but at the same time, the victims don’t get the fleshing out where their lives are celebrated as much as their last moments alive are stewed.
Maybe this is intentional on the part of writer Tom Rob Smith and co-executive producer Ryan Murphy who has been the leading, creative force behind both this season and last. Both Murphy and Smith are openly gay, and in this country for decades, the deaths or murders of LGBT people, especially gay men or trans-women haven’t been treated with the same importance, or with the same care. Sometimes, it’s something as simple and as insidious as the police not mentioning or acknowledging that the victim was gay, even when it’s an element of the crime, as the third episode shows. By focusing on the corpses, lingering on them, maybe it’s Murphy and Smith’s way of forcing or reckoning with how gay victims have been dismissed or sometimes ignored.
That’s an extrapolation that can be gained from this series, but the structure and pacing, however, negate whatever homophobia this series might want to expose. The first, two episodes are fine and everything this series wants to say is said in just those two episodes. The next three episodes change direction and attempt to deconstruct the psychopath at the center, but it doesn’t. It mires him in a one-note mode of wickedness and insanity. It attempts to give voice or breath to the victims who are left in his wake, but it doesn’t. They are merely victims swept up in the wave of killing. Glimpses of insight are washed over with shocking acts of violence that undermine the whole enterprise. The exception is Episode 5, possibly.
Darren Criss (Glee) stars as Andrew Phillip Cunanan, a 27-year-old murder fugitive who shot and killed Gianni Versace, the famous Italian, fashion designer on July 15, 1997. No one knows why. Reportedly, the two met once at a night club in San Francisco in October 1990. No other connection is known or believed. Andrew is gay and had a pattern of having sex with older men in order to get money or luxury items. Versace was an older gay man who Andrew might have identified as a target, an obsession that he knew he could never have, so he snapped and shot him.
Initially, Criss’ performance is reminiscent of Matt Damon’s in The Talented Mr. Ripley (1999) or Will Smith in Six Degrees of Separation (1993). He’s a quick witted, smooth-talking, ingratiating, social climbing sycophant. He’s clearly a pathological liar with a desperate desire to be connected to the wealthy without doing anything to earn it. This series invites psychoanalysis of Andrew, but only in the first episode. By the second, he’s just on the run. The third and fourth episodes portray him as a sheer psychopath who’s mostly vapid. Surely, that changes in episodes six to nine as the chronology moves backward and we delve into Andrew’s childhood, but I already don’t care, which is why the show should have reversed the order of the episodes.
Oddly, the third episode has the least Andrew and is probably the best episode from a character standpoint. Unfortunately, the character is neither Andrew nor the victim, Lee Miglin, played by Mike Farrell (M*A*S*H and Providence). Actually, it’s not unfortunately because that character is Marilyn Miglin, played by the amazing Judith Light (Transparent and Who’s the Boss). She’s only present in this, one episode, but her performance of this woman who’s life is disillusioned after 38 years of marriage is worthy of every award you could throw at it.
Episode 4 is a prime example of sinking into depravity, following a horror scenario simply for horror’s sake. One can condemn the episode for being an exercise in pure conjecture, which would be fine, if it wasn’t needed. Episode 5 is better for supplying more of a platform to explore the characters who would be Andrew’s first murder victims, Jeffrey Trail, played by Finn Wittrock, and David Madson, played by Cody Fern. Jeffrey is the first person killed by Andrew, and if anything, Episode 5 is in part a tribute to him, as it underlines homophobia in the military during the 90’s, and it’s actually the most tribute one of the victims gets other than the titular character.
Edgar Ramírez (Joy and Hands of Stone) co-stars as Gianni Versace. Pop star Ricky Martin also co-stars as Antonio D’Amico, the partner and lover of Gianni. Unfortunately, both of them are virtually non-existent in the first, four episodes. When they appear again in Episode 5, it’s a surprise. Yet, they’ve been absent so long one almost doesn’t care to see them. The two of them aren’t given the due they should have, and their story or rather their kind of story in many ways was better told in Behind the Candelabra (2013).
I have to be honest and note that I felt this episode was a little bit of a structural mess — with the caveat that it’s still remarkably well-acted, and “a little bit of a structural mess” for this program is the equivalent of giving a kid on the honor roll a B+. It’s still something to be proud of, but that kid might be a little irritated that you didn’t just hand over the A-. Yet again, I think the problem in part stems from something we’ve talked about at length — namely, that this show is about Andrew Cunanan, and not Gianni Versace, but the title means there’s a narrative requirement to check in on Versace every now and then, even when it feels a little ham-handed. This week, there is a parallel drawn between Versace coming out to The Advocate, and Andrew’s victim Jeff (who is so well portrayed by Finn Wittrock) speaking to 48 Hours about the question of gays in the military, and Don’t Ask Don’t Tell. While the scenes between Versace and Donatella are very well-acted (if weirdly blocked; half the time, Gianni walks into a room, sits at a table, does nothing, then gets up and walks to another table, and I honestly think it’s to show off the sets), they felt like unnecessary, if interesting, bookends to the REAL story in this episode, which is how Andrew knew Jeff Trail and David Madson, and why he eventually killed Jeff. You could have cut both Versace scenes out of this episode without it impacting the narrative thrust of the story, and to me the parallels felt a little clonky, even though I found them independently compelling.
I also highly recommend Vulture’s fact-checking of each episode, especially for episodes like this one, where I often wondered how much was fact and how much was supposition. It seems that everyone in real life is still in the dark about why Andrew hated Jeff Trail as much as he did, or what happened between them — because everyone who knew the answer died, I suppose. And the scenes that are supposed to elucidate this do seem a little flabby. Jeff and Andrew’s confrontations felt like they were written without The Powers That Be having actually made a creative decision about why Jeff is really so mad at Andrew in the first place, and why Andrew actually chose to kill him. Last week, I assumed Andrew killed Jeff because he knew Jeff and David were hooking up and he was jealous, but that doesn’t seem to be the case; this episode sort of implies that he just kills him because they have a big fight and Jeff hates him for vague reasons. I mean: Andrew is hate-able and also tried to “accidentally” out him, and is also a creepy person who wears other people’s dress whites; there are MANY legitimate reasons for Jeff to hate him. But the actual scene of their confrontation felt like strangely unspecific to me. Certainly, Jeff is miserable not being in the military anymore but his blaming Andrew for that seemed like a narrative stretch for that character, who comes across as a hugely kind, decent, and conflicted person. I think that’s the main stumbling block of this show — there is so much we don’t, and can’t know, that the story-telling by nature turns a little vague.
Alson: This was the episode were I really realized that they actually are telling the story backward and it felt a little confusing; my theory is that, in retrospect, this will prove to be the one episode where that conceit is a little bumpy (it worked well in previous episodes, I thought). It was hard for me, on occasion, to hold in my head where, exactly, we were in time and how much we were jumping around; there are flashbacks within flashbacks within flashbacks, and it was somewhat dizzying.
Other thoughts, before we look at some visuals: Finn Wittrock, as I mentioned, was amazingly good in this episode, and Jeff Trail’s story broke my heart. I found the scenes of his suicide attempt, and his attempt to remove his own tattoo, as painful to watch as anything I’ve seen on TV in a long time; he is heartrending in this. Cody Fern, who plays David, is also excellent in this episode (although last week was more of an acting tour de force for him, naturally). And Darren Criss is just great. He is so chilling in that scene wherein he’s going through Jeff’s stuff and puts on his dress whites; it says something that it’s just terrifying to watch him put on a hat and watch a video tape. I don’t know that this show is getting as much buzz as The People Vs. OJ Simpson — what has? — but I hope the acting is recognized, because it’s really superb.
These scenes with Gianni, Antonio, and Donatella are VERY compelling to me, although at this point in the series, they also kind of feel as if they’ve been ported in from a show that’s more about Versace’s life. I obviously wanted to include this so you can see Versace’s amazing wall of books.
And this was a nifty shot – and that’s a glam jacket on Donatella, who is arguing against Gianni’s coming out publicly because she thinks it might hurt the business; 1993 was a very different time.
I did have to kind of laugh in this scene; Gianni is explaining to Donatella why the Advocate interview is important to him, and all Edgar Ramirez does is walk to various work stations, briefly stand next to them, and then walk to the next one. It seems like…an unrealistic look at his atelier. That being said, I actually thought this scene was really interesting and illuminating. I didn’t know, for example, that Perry Ellis had died of AIDS, and nearly collapsed on his own runway, which is incredibly sad. I’m currently reading Tina Brown’s Vanity Fair Diaries – which are dishy and great, and you’d like them, I think; a lot of the Amazon reviews are like, “there’s so much name-dropping!” but when you’re EiC of Vanity Fair, you have a lot of names to drop – and much of it is about the AIDS crisis in New York in the early 90s, and it’s so sad and poignant. There is also a whole bit here where Gianni is talking about how he should have died, but it’s a miracle that he didn’t, and again the show is kind of vague about whatever medical issue he’s talking about: IS he talking about AIDS? (I also wonder how much of this vagueness is due to the show’s unwillingness to get sued by the Versace family.
This is a very naive question, but what do we think Andrew is injecting into his toe? He seems too peppy for it to be heroin? I am assuming it’s speed, but this is not my area of expertise.
It made me laugh in the Vulture piece where they noted, essentially, “we do not know if Andrew had a creepy stalker wall of anyone in San Diego.” (He did NOT have a creepy stalker wall of Versace in Miami.) Nevertheless: there’s no better way in TV to explain that you’re dealing w. a real crackpot. FWIW, this vaguely reminds me of my own shrine to Ralph Fiennes when I was in college.
I’d like to commend the costumer for absolutely nailing Man Denim of the Early 90s.
Darren Criss is SO GOOD at being…very alarming even when he’s ostensibly being nice.
This actress, Sophie von Haselberg, is Bette Midler’s daughter, which I figured out because I thought, “WOW, she looks like Bette Midler.”
I thought the Jeff Trail storyline tracing his time in the military – he’s terrified that people will find out he is gay – was really, really moving. I also think this INSANE COMIC the Navy gave to officers to explain Don’t Ask Don’t Tell seems BONKERS. Can you imagine being the artist who had to make this thing?
How true is this true crime, and how would you rate Daren Criss’s butt? We watched American Crime Story: The Assassination of Gianni Versace and we’d put it solidly in the Middle Place.
The book Rachel meant to recommend, by the way, is Homicide: A Year on the Killing Streets, by David Simon. If you google what she actually said it’ll come up, but just in case. | 19 February 2018
Maybe crime really doesn’t pay, but it seems tougher to make that argument with the recent spate of film and TV projects highlighting real people best known for their worst actions.
Historical names and events — Gianni Versace, the Waco siege, Harding vs. Kerrigan — draw viewers’ attention, but writers often change details or shift focus, softening the rougher edges of the transgressor or losing sight of the victims.
FX’s limited series The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story (Wednesdays, 10 ET/PT), is less about the acclaimed Italian designer than Andrew Cunanan, the man famous for his brutal killings of five men, including the fashion icon.
As Paramount Network’s Waco (Wednesdays, 10 ET/PT) reveals a side of Branch Davidian leader David Koresh that it claims government and the media missed, the series treads lightly regarding allegations that he had sex with underage girls.
And Oscar nominee I, Tonya (in theaters now), which cavalierly jokes about its accuracy, recasts figure skater Tonya Harding, convicted of hindering prosecution after the assault of rival Nancy Kerrigan, as a spiky underdog.
All these projects make commendable points. Versace examines anti-gay bigotry in law enforcement and society; Waco looks at questions of faith, freedom and government power; and I, Tonya depicts the toll of class discrimination and domestic violence.
But in the process, each raises the profile of people we wouldn’t remember if not for their bad acts. Dead or alive, that’s a big status bump in a society obsessed with celebrity.
The biggest problem is how they highlight the perpetrator while giving less attention to those who have been wronged. Both Versace and Waco flesh out the victims to a degree, but the FX miniseries is ultimately killer Cunanan’s story and Waco’s focus on Koresh overshadows the depiction of his fellow Branch Davidians, limiting our ability to know and feel for them.
At least they try. Although Harding’s misdeed isn’t remotely comparable to the actions of Cunanan or Koresh, the contrast between Harding and Kerrigan in I, Tonya is the most galling.
Olympic silver medalist Kerrigan, whose injury at the hands of people connected to Harding is the reason we remember this rivalry, is treated as a whiny afterthought. Her dialogue consists of the famous anguished question — “Why? Why?” — while the film’s namesake was recently thanked from the stage at the Golden Globes. Something’s wrong here.
We’re now accustomed to more honest, shaded portrayals: heroes with flaws and villains who aren’t entirely evil. But when actors or writers attempt to make their characters more empathetic, they can unintentionally burnish a wrongdoer’s image.
“It’s my job to be empathetic. If I set out to paint him as a monster, then there’s no point in telling the story. This isn’t a Bond villain,” says Darren Criss, who plays Cunanan.
Viewers may connect more, too, when real-life bad actors are played by better-looking professionals: Criss as Cunanan; Taylor Kitsch as Koresh; and Margot Robbie as Harding. We’re drawn to good-looking people and tend to give them the benefit of the doubt.
Humanity’s dark side is fascinating, with great storytelling appeal. Just look at some of the best shows of TV’s current golden age, including Mad Men, The Sopranos and Game of Thrones. But it’s less complicated when the character in question is a work of fiction.
Real people — both perpetrators and victims — make for great stories, too, but there’s a responsibility to get them right. Ideally, viewers would use films and TV shows as jumping-off points to learn more about the subjects. Unfortunately, for many it’s too often the only source of information.
A good start would be to find out more about those who don’t get the attention they deserve.
Go beyond Versace’s depiction of the fashion genius and his brave decision to live openly as a gay man. Learn more about him and Cunanan’s other victims.
Think of the others, especially the children, who died at Waco’s Branch Davidian compound and find out more about religious cults and offshoots.
And read up on the impressive skating accomplishments of Kerrigan, who faced her own challenges but somehow managed to reach skating’s pinnacle — and, unlike her rival, avoid a criminal conviction in the process.
We can hope they’ll all get a TV show or a movie, but we know that’s not going to happen. They’re not doing anything bad.
ACS news 