Getting Catty /w Kat & Pat has returned for another batch of episodes and this time we are diving into the murder-y waters of Miami, Florida to uncover the potential motives of Andrew Cunanan’s Assassination of Gianni Versace. In week one, Andrew Cunanan has performed the dirty deed and before the manhunt takes full effect, we flashback to 1990 to see one possible theory of how the wheels may have been put into motion.
Plus, Penélope Cruz makes a flashy debut as Donatella Versace and the ballad of one woke pawn shop owner who nearly prevented this whole tragedy from ever happening. Oh, and lest we forget… Darren Criss’ butthole!
We have some great stuff coming up, so don’t forget to subscribe, rate, and review us on Apple Podcasts.
The second episode of the new miniseries The Assassination of Gianni Versace, airing on FX now, is steeped in the lore of America’s AIDS and HIV epidemic. Most of the episode takes place in mid-90s South Beach—a place far removed from modern-day Miami, with its status as a mecca of art, real estate, and luxury living. Back then, South Beach was where folks came to die. With its thriving club scene, endless sun, and run-down Art Deco hotels, Miami offered easy, affordable living for a generation of gay men who were battling AIDS—and likely to lose.
Within this heavy-yet-hedonistic atmosphere came Gianni Versace, who along with Madonna, helped propel South Beach’s fashion world ascent. As lavishly conveyed in the series, Versace set up shop in a massive, Spanish-style ocean-front pile. He lived there for much of the decade until his murder at the entrance of the home in July 1997.
On the surface, Versace’s arrival fits nicely into Miami’s rich history of welcoming deep-pocketed arrivistes eager to make the city their own, as it’s done for celebrities from real estate mogul Henry Flagler to NBA-star Lebron James. But beyond his wealth, some have speculated that Versace was also part of Miami’s growing population of people-with-AIDS.
Author Maureen Orth claims as much in her book,Vulgar Favors—which serves as the basis for the FX series—noting not only was Versace HIV positive, but also seeking treatment for the disease in Miami. Although the claim has been refuted by Versace’s family, the show portrays the designer as both looking for an AIDS cure at a local hospital while also living large in Miami’s social and party scenes.
The show also vividly conveys both the physical and psychological toll of AIDS on the folks who battled it. Throughout episode two, Miami’s sandy-shores and azure Atlantic are strikingly contrasted with images of rail-thin men, clearly disease-stricken, lounging listlessly. In fact, one such soul—a character named Ronnie—figures prominently as a confidant of Versace’s killer, Andrew Cunanan. A one-time florist—who had clearly battled AIDS—Ronnie had come to Miami to die, yet was spared by the first generation of truly effective anti-HIV medications that had finally started to work during the period just before Versace’s death.
Despite the presence of so much disease and death in The Assassination of Gianni Versace, there is very little actual discussion of AIDS and HIV—and this matters. Because throughout the entire second episode—as Versace seeks treatment, as Donatella Versace tries to hide her brother’s apparent diagnosis, as the designer’s partner contends with his lover’s worsening condition—the word “AIDS” is only mentioned once: when Cunanan casually shares that he had volunteered at an AIDS organization.
Yet never does anyone actually say they have AIDS or HIV—never.
Character after character speaks of disease and sickness and treatment and dying—but no one truly claims the affliction for themself. Ronnie speaks around the disease, but fails to say its name. A nurse alludes to new therapies, but never says what they’re for. On FX’s Versace biopic, AIDS it seems, is the ultimate four-letter word.
Throughout the history of AIDS and HIV in the US, silence has been a deadly constant. President Reagan famously failed to take a major stance on AIDS until some 21,000 Americans had died from it. New York City Mayor Ed Koch was reviled by activists for his inaction around AIDS as it killed thousands in his own backyard. One of the most impactful images in the history of AIDS is artist Keith Haring’s now iconic “Silence=Death” design for the protest movement, Act-Up. This all took place decades ago, when an HIV diagnosis typically guaranteed death, as well discrimination, ostracism, and endless stigma.
So what’s FX’s excuse for their silence of today? Show creator Ryan Murphy—who’s publicly gay and celebrated for his industry inclusivity—seems to feel like he’s actually challenging the taboos around HIV with Versace. “I think it’s moving and powerful, and I don’t think there should be any shame associated with HIV,” he saidof the Versace family’s disavowal of the show’s HIV claims.
But how does removing nearly every mention of AIDS and HIV from this episode combat the shame that still surrounds the disease? In a word, it doesn’t. Instead, both Versace and Murphy’s deafening silence perpetuate tired—and, yes dangerous—stereotypes about AIDS, gay men, and dying.
Some might suggest that FX could have been sued for libel had they formally declared Versace had AIDS. But, the dead cannot be slandered—and any such suit would likely have failed. Perhaps Gianni Versace S.p.A.—the official holding company that operates his fashion empire—might have sued instead, claiming that HIV tarnishes its brand? That might explain why Murphy and FX avoided explicitly naming Versace as having the condition.
But what about the rest of the episode—Ronnie, the florist and the other clearly sick and dying men who populate the show? Why not have them more forcefully speak of their condition and literally name their truth? Why are they—like the thousands of real life victims of the disease—lowering the volume to own their histories? After all, Murphy himself insists there’s no “shame” associated with HIV–why then render these men nearly voiceless props against Miami’s sunny shores?
In Versace’s day, “AIDS silence” was almost as deadly as the disease itself—as stigma and shame kept those afflicted from comfort and care. Twenty years later, HIV has become a treatable and manageable condition that no longer has to define someone’s life. But in order for this to happen, HIV had to come out of the shadows—folks can’t treat something they won’t admit they have.
FX’s Murphy insists that AIDS and HIV must no longer exist in shame—and with seven more episodes of Versace still to air, his work might actually live up to this bombast. But his sorry handling of the disease on the show so far only confirms that AIDS silence still rings loudly.
The Ringer’s Chris Ryan and Andy Greenwald discuss the recently announced Oscar nominations (1:00) and whether they are in or out on ‘American Crime Story: Versace’ (14:00). Later, they kick off a two-week run of discussing and reviewing the Netflix series ‘The End of the F***ing World’ (26:00).
THE SHOW | The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story
THE EPISODE | “Manhunt” (Jan. 24, 2018)
THE PERFORMANCE | Ryan Murphy’s TV shows offer actors a golden opportunity to spread their wings and show a side of themselves we haven’t yet seen. And in its second episode, Versace did just that for Criss, who shed his squeaky-clean Glee past to paint a vivid portrait of a murderer who’s just as charming as he is chilling.
As serial killer Andrew Cunanan, it’s disturbing how easily the lies spilled from Criss’ mouth, as Cunanan bragged about his connections to Versace and his upbringing in France, cold-bloodedly rehearsing his half of the conversation in a mirror beforehand in an attempt to sound “normal.” Criss concealed his Glee-trained pipes as Cunanan fled from authorities while singing (off-key) along with Laura Branigan’s “Gloria” on the car radio — a rare moment of pure elation for the troubled loner. This week’s centerpiece, though, was Cunanan’s riveting rendezvous with an elderly man who paid him for sex, wrapping the man’s entire head in duct tape and dancing to Phil Collins’ “Easy Lover” in his underwear while the man gasped for air. Criss’ intensely blank stare was positively unsettling as Cunanan reveled in the pain he was inflicting, like a shark smelling blood in the water.
Later, in a Miami gay club, Cunanan unspooled another set of lies to a fellow dancer who asked what he did for a living, manically rattling off a list of fake occupations before ending with, “I’m the person least likely to be forgotten.” Thanks to this week’s impressively versatile, chameleon-like performance, Criss’ revelatory work on Versace isn’t likely to be forgotten, either.
As great as the premiere of The Assassination of Gianni Versace was, I can’t help but think that its painted itself into a soft pink corner after watching Manhunt. Manhunt is not a bad episode, in fact its very, very good. It’s an episode that serves to explore and layer the two lead characters: murderer and victim, out with the context of the crime itself. If anything, Manhunt feels like a collection of deleted scenes from The Man Who Would be Vogue, that if edited together with the first episode would be something really special.
As it is, Manhunt slows the momentum of the season down with a feeling that American Crime Story is already going in circles. This doesn’t have to be a bad thing, as Andrew’s character necessitates a very real cycle of violence. The truth is that anything to do with Andrew already works like gangbusters, but the same cannot be said about Versace. So, like the episode, lets look at each character separately.
GIANNI VERSACE
Maureen Orth’s book, Vulgar Favors: Andrew Cunanan, Gianni Versace, and the Largest Failed Manhunt in US History, not only serves as the basis for the series but also contains one of the biggest controversies of the entire story. Orth’s book claims that Versace was HIV Positive at the time of his death, something which his family claims to be a lie. This is a Ryan Murphy production after all so if you bet that he and Tom Rob Smith would use this as a plot point you would be right. This plot point serves as the episodes opening as Versace and his companion Antonio D’Amico, played by the surprisingly impressive Ricky Martin, visit the hospital so Versace can receive treatment form an illness that the script doesn’t name.
We are then shown the consequences of this vague diagnosis as it reverberates among Versace’s closest confidants: his companion and his sister Donatella. Donatella blames Antonio for her brother’s illness which, if this isn’t true, is narrative choice that is in bad taste for everyone involved. At least Tom Rob Smith is aware at how controversial this direction is, but his comments to Vanity Fair, about Roth’s claims don’t really shed much light:
“She has no agenda or reason to push any point of view. She was interested in unpacking some of the myths around the murder, such as that Andrew had AIDS and was killing because of it. In fact, Andrew, this destroyer of life, did not have AIDS, and the person who did have H.I.V. was this great creator and celebrator of life.”
Whether you agree with this direction or not (I’m not a fan), it does serve a dual purpose. The HIV epidemic was still huge in the mid-90s and its effects serve as a narrative parallel between Gianni and Andrew’s closets relations within the episode. For Gianni it brings him closer to a monogamist life with Antonio, but it’s only another platform in which Andrew can perform on.
While Edgar Ramirez and Ricky Martin are clicking, the same cannot be said for Ramirez and Penelope Cruz. As Donatella, Cruz has the Emmy pretty much in the bag, and she excels when the role calls for that inner grit as well as the deep grief she feels at losing her brother. It’s a shame then that the show-stopping scene which the Versace siblings share doesn’t pack the punch its supposed to. It’s certainly interesting: Donatella is Gianni’s first muse and she is trying to help him look past his past success in order to keep up with the industry, but Gianni is high on his own legacy. Both actors are great here, and it’s another great contrast for Andrew’s similar listings of achievements that are nothing more than fiction. There is just a layer of affection missing from Gianni and Donatella’s scenes that is so obviously felt when they talk about each other to everyone else.
ANDREW CUNANAN
Darren Criss continues to blow my mind as Cunanan. He’s so manipulative and needy while watching him I was thinking that I wouldn’t fall for his lies. Of course, I would, that’s why he’s so dangerous. As good as Criss is Manhunt does tend to repeat much of his characterisation without moving the plot forward. Again, this isn’t bad, his relationship with Max Greenfield (who might be the best part of this episode) gives Andrew’s psychology more depth, but it still feels like this should have been part of the first episode.
Even if the show has slightly stalled character-wise, Manhunt does explore the elements of luck that stopped Andrew from being captured. He’s on the FBI’s Most Wanted list before he kills Versace, and the straight as an arrow Federal agents have clumsily profiled him out of the places he inhabits. Perhaps the most interesting factor, apart from Andrew’s high-wire act of constant lies, is how a man’s fear of outing himself after Andrew nearly kills him stopped him from getting caught.
7/10 – The Assassination of Gianni Versace is proving to be a completely different beast from American Crime Story’s first season. While it’s still packed with great performances, and perfect period detail, its structure is holding it back from being truly great. The next obstacle is how the show handles Andrew’s killing spree. The show is already walking a stylistic line reminiscent of American Horror Story, so restraint is the key.
Brett, Ben, Alonso and Meredith review the second episode of American Crime Stories second season about the assassination of Gianni Versace. | 25 January 2018
1994, Miami: Gianni Versace and Antonio D’Amico are in a hospital. Versace confesses to a nurse his fears of dying and recalls the death of a sibling in his childhood. The allusions to AIDS here are not subtle, but a certain poetry is created by using silence around the disease itself — a silence characteristic of that time period. Back at the mansion, Donatella wonders what will become of Versace (the brand) without Gianni.
Donatella confronts D’Amico, implying Versace’s condition is his fault and blaming the excesses of their lifestyle on Versace’s downfall.
Back to 1997 where fans of Versace are putting flowers on the footsteps of his mansion in his memory, shortly after his murder. D’Amico and Donatella’s feud continues, with the latter telling the former, “There’s no need for us to pretend anymore.”
Before the murder of Versace: Cunanan is seen stealing license plates. His mood is elevated as he drives in a red pickup truck, once again demonstrating his disconectedness from his crimes (we get it, Ryan Murphy).
Cunanan checks into a hotel with a fake passport. He’s running out of money but begins looking for drugs anyway. He meets a dealer at the hotel and the two discuss “being sick” — Cunanan claims he worked in an AIDS clinic and has recently lost his best friend and lover. He then goes on to claim Versace had proposed to him in the past. Clearly Cunanan’s life story is pieced together from both lies and truths, and the extent to which he’s even able to separate out which is which is questionable. He claims he could have been a great designer, too.
Police, meanwhile, are hunting for Cunanan in connection with other murders. Their commitment to the hunt is lackadaisical at best.
On South Beach, it doesn’t take long for Cunanan to find an older man to take him home. The two engage in some heavy BDSM while Cunanan expounds on his wealthy upbringing. His John considers calling the police after the scene gets too intense, but decides against it while staring at the ring on his finger.
Donatella and Gianni argue about design philosophy at a fashion show. American Crime Story’s limits reveal themselves here: the recreation of Versace’s looks and presentation (considering the actual house of Versace has disapproved of the TV series) looks impressively cheap and half-assed. The audience within the show claps adoringly at each outfit: hard to suspend disbelief here.
Anyway, Dontatella wonders: will Versace change his brand to reflect the times now that he does not feel conquered by his disease?
Later, D’Amico tells Versace he wants to get married and Versace demures: “You can say it in the morning, but can you say it in the evening?”
With Cunanan’s drug habit getting worse and whatever plaguing his mind deteriorating, he visits a gay club. He’s having some kind of manic fit, unsure of who he is. Credits roll over his confusion.
Murphy once again sets up a dichotomy between seriousness and camp, but the weight is heavier on the former aesthetic. He’s addressing real issues in gay life in the 90’s: both the lavish opulence in spite of crippling disease and the pitiable world of sex work and drug dealing. The two are contrasted sharply with each other throughout the episode: scenes of Versace’s over-stylized palace are contrasted sharply with Cunanan’s flop house. Murphy’s trying to capture something specific to that time period, and his delicacy around the AIDS crisis (mentioned only in the show’s parentheticals) is perhaps the most subtlety he’s ever shown. A thesis statement for his Versace series hasn’t quite yet emerged, but the players have been established and the scenes are set: what he does with the show from here is anyone’s guess.
The second episode, appropriately named, “Manhunt”, continued on the heels of last week’s dramatic episode. The story is being told in a bit of a reverse, back-and-forth manner to elucidate Cunanan’s journey to Miami.
The episode began with a flashback to March 1994, where Versace (Edgar Ramirez) and Antonio (Ricky Martin) are seen lurking the halls of a hospital. While the mystery of Versace’s health remains fairly unknown to this day–the show alludes to the possibility he may have been HIV positive.
His sickness plays a big part in this episode as he battles an “unknown” condition. Donatella (Penelope Cruz) holds his sickness over Antonio’s head, highlighting that their sexual escapades have caused Versace to fall ill. It was interesting to see the show tip-toe around Versace’s health. Perhaps, it was to prevent the wrath of the Versace family that continues to stand by the notion he was HIV negative.
But the subtle hints of his sex life intermingled with the mention of therapy that may help him all pointed to one thing–but we’ll leave that to speculation.
Darren Criss shone once again in this episode–channeling a creepy, sadistic, troubled individual. Unclear as to the timeline of his whereabouts, we see that he is in South Carolina. A pit-stop at an old school Walmart shows him switching out his license plate for another, all while creepily smiling at a little girl watching him in action.
As he prepares to drive away, we hear the news on the radio mention he is a suspect in the murder of Lee Miglin (his third victim). This moment and a highway mile sign clarify that this is before Versace’s death–and Cunanan is acomin’.
Donatella was a bigger part of this episode as she handled the arrangements for Versace’s cremation–which was quite interesting, to say the least. The mortician prepared Versace’s body, “restoring” him back to the way he once looked. This was some epic artistry (if one can call it that), as Versace lay there lifeless in his casket, but made us feel he would wake up at any moment.
And after all that fancy make-up and placing him in a beautiful casket–he was cremated and whisked away to Italy in a gold box.
The FBI was a hot mess this episode as they grappled with the manhunt for Cunanan. Clearly unprepared, the FBI agents were way in over their heads. They had only 10 copies of the wanted poster and no idea where to look for Cunanan.
This would present as a problem at the episode’s end when Andrew Cunanan would use his actual name on the paperwork. A moment when the suspicious pawn shop owner could have reported him–but there was no flier up on her bulletin board about him. Sigh, FBI.
Cunanan’s weird behavior went up a few notches this episode as he found a home in a beachfront hotel, Normandy Plaza. It is here where he meets Ronnie (Max Greenfield) and befriends him and continues to embellish and lie about his life.
One of the most bizarre moments of this episode was Cunanan scoping out elderly men to be an escort for and tormenting one he picks up on the beach. This torture session was inclusive of Cunanan wrapping the man’s face with tape, rendering him unable to breathe as he pranced around the room in his underwear. Suffice to say–he let him live.
While Cunanan’s dark side becomes more apparent this episode, Versace’s health went from dire to optimistic. In fact, Antonio even proposed to him–pledging he wants only him–and not the additional entourage of men in their lives. It was a bittersweet collection of moments in Versace’s life, only to be clouded over what was to come.
Out for a walk, Cunanan stakes out Versace’s home where he sees Versace on the balcony. Frazzled over the unexpected opportunity, he rushes back to the hotel for his gun–and bids farewell forever to Ronnie. Unfortunately for him, when he returns Versace has left for the night.
When murder plans fall through for the night, Cunanan heads to a cafe, where he is recognized by one of the employees (thanks to 90’s hit show, America’s Most Wanted). By the time the police arrive, Cunanan is gone and heads to the club where Versace was at.
The final moments of the episode leave us with a haunting feeling as we quietly hear Cunanan tell someone his full name.
The second episode of this intriguing installment was on par with the premiere–if not better. The story is getting darker, the events are coming together, and we are falling deeper and deeper into the twisted psyche of Andrew Cunanan.
Darren Criss’ performance is unlike anything else–and this episode was no exception. Those particular moments where his eyes went dark or an odd, uncomfortable smile took over his face were unlike anything we’ve seen before.
As the story continues to build, watching these events unfold and watching Criss will be absolutely epic.
The trick with this season of American Crime Story is that we know the who, and the how, and the when, but we will never be able to do anything but speculate on the why. Cunanan left very few breadcrumbs. So the show turned to Maureen Orth’s book on the subject, which she by all accounts reported as well and throughly as anyone could, to fill in some of the empty spaces on the canvas. That meant making some leaps, which in the premiere led to the scene in which Versace and Cunanan chill in a club and at the opera in San Francisco, which never felt real even as we watched, in a funky way where you almost questioned whether it was a dream sequence. (Orth believes they had met at least once before, but — and this is partly because Cunanan was a skilled pathological liar — it’s impossible to know if it happened, much less if the version he did tell friends is true, or the one the show imagines of him pushing his way in with a cool falsehood about Italy, etc.) And here, it’s the HIV subplot.
The Versace family has always denied that Gianni Versace had HIV; to this day, per Vanity Fair, Donatella says he had ear cancer that forced him out of the public eye, only to have it declared cured six months before his death. That same story lays out that he became ill in 1994 and ceded some control of the company to Donatella, then rebounded and reclaimed his position six months before he died. That gels with the timeline of HIV/AIDS patients beginning to see results from a new drug cocktail. Both the producers and Orth had various sources off-the-record saying he had HIV, and that it was the reason the family rushed to have him cremated, but the dots can’t really connect beyond that.
Ergo, the show goes all-in on it, but the quotes about why in the VF article are much more impactful-sounding than the way it actually plays out in the episode. I thought the show seemed very disconnected from the idea the writers discuss about how Versace was a creator of life and of art, who’d confronted his mortality and then thought he’d risen again. To me, the sense of his sickness and health were very passively presented, and mostly just provided building blocks for tension between Donatella and Versace’s lover Antonio. The more poignant scene came from the parallel tale of Max Greenfield’s Ronnie, a wan junkie who meets Andrew Cunanan and he details the weird loneliness of being an unexpected survivor of the drug cocktail — and of believing you were going to die, then finding out you have a second chance and having nothing to use it for — while Cunanan alters his backstory once again to try and paint himself into that picture.
Darren Criss makes a good Cunanan, slipping coolly from one lie to the next, at times not wholly believable but in ways that suggest that’s deliberate (as he did, in fact, not entirely get away with it). In defending his admiration of Versace to Ronnie, he says, “When they told him what he wanted wasn’t possible, he just made it himself…. The great creator. The man I could’ve been.” By the end, he’s stalking Versace to a club, then repelling a man’s advances with a gaggle of intentionally obvious fake backstories that includes one truth (“I’m a serial killer”) before announcing, “I’m the one least likely to be forgotten,” and then, as we cut to black, whispering, “I’m ANDREW CUNANAN.” Given that there was an FBI manhunt going on for him already by this time, it seems silly at first that they’d write him so cavalierly trumpeting his real name, but it drives home Cunanan’s total insanity — both the sense that he might’ve believed himself bulletproof, and that maybe didn’t want to be, hungry as he was for a notoriety that he felt the world denied him any other way.
Oh, and also, this show LOVES close calls. There’s one with the dude Cunanan robs who balks at calling the cops, one at a sub shop where an employee recognizes him from a poster, and kind of one with the cop played by Dascha Polanco. The FBI, already searching for Cunanan for his other crimes (which I didn’t even know!), wants to focus on Fort Lauderdale and its supposedly wealthier group of marks; she eye-rolls that and then runs off a bunch of WANTED flyers on the sly because she thinks he’ll be in Miami Beach. I have no idea, obviously, how much ANY of that is accurate, but: Score one for the lady, even if they didn’t get him in time.
This is actually Versace and Antonio sneaking into the hospital to discuss HIV treatments, but it LOOKS like a still from his music video, “(I Want Your) Measurements.”
It’s a continual delight to see that Versace embraced such subtlety in his interior design. I bet that wasn’t even his bed; just a fainting place.
I really need to work in having a more attractive sick bed. (Having said that, he comes home and flops down and everyone sniffles about his illness, and then he’s TOTALLY FINE later and we don’t really hear about his miraculous recovery, so… I guess this was a good nap.)
Ricky Martin spends a lot of time looking perplexed in front of elaborate tile work.
And Penelope Cruz makes a good, but also distracting, Donatella. What I mean is: She nails the voice, from what I can tell, but it also sounds like she is acting around some kind of false teeth that is giving her a slight lisp. Which she MIGHT be. Or she’s just really hitting that hard on her own.
This is one of the few times we see Donatella NOT in black, and I wish it was a better shot of it. Gianni, here, is also a Fug National in training.
Everyone Grieves Hotter in Sunglasses.
Th Donatellas in this are not that far apart in the timeline – just days, months, etc – so I guess maybe we’re meant to think here she just hadn’t penciled in her eyebrows, rather than that she was entering into her bleached phase? I don’t know. I honestly think it’s mostly a visual cue that you’re looking at post-killing vs pre-killing Doantella. Then again, it’s hard to mix that up, given that she’s in all her other scenes WITH Versace.
In death as in life, Versace loved a pattern.
This is the point on Passions when someone rescued Theresa’s coffin. They waited a good long time. Also, she was still alive, so it was a bit more important. But I look at this and think how EXPENSIVE all that makeup and the coffin was, for them to just immediately send him into the flames. I guess one’s final wishes are one’s final wishes.
And here is his final resting place. This scene of the ashes being wrapped upa and packed for customs and then tucked into an ornate box reminded me vaguely of Rowan Atkinson wrapping the gift in Love, Actually. It needed more pot pourri.
Darren Criss managed to be a pretty good facial likeness for Cunanan, and this shot also underscores that he ALSO may have slipped past people’s notice for so long because he looked like SUCH an everydude – here, a secondary character with no actual plot in an early 90s teen movie.
I cannot think of anything I want to drink LESS on a road trip.
The sets are so good. I don’t know how much was created on soundstages and how much was from actual locations, but everything here feels SO Miami Beach – the font on the address over the door, the pink walls, the floor. I lived in Miami from 1990-92, so I missed this, plus I was pretty far removed from South Beach. So I can’t offer any real insight. This does just feel really correct, though.
And the flamingo pen on the desk! My dad’s office balcony had standing water on it that no one would fix, so he got an inflatable flamingo and put it out there to register his discontent. He named it Placido Flamingo. One day, he came to work and someone had murdered it with a screwdriver. IT WENT UNSOLVED. That could be season three?
Max Greenfield did a very good job shedding the Schmidt. His Ronnie character felt fairly well-realized and sad, like a person whose past meant he’d forgotten how to see a future for himself – versus Cunanan, who simply reinvented his pasts in the hope that one of them would give him what he sought.
Naturally, in the midst of their serious conversation about HIV and life and Versace, Darren Criss rinses off in a Speedo.
He also picks up a cruiser on South Beach so that he and Ronnie can get cash for crack (and I guess other things). “I can be submissive,” the man offers. “You have NO IDEA,” Andrew replies, and then wraps his ENTIRE FACE with duct tape.
As the dude begins to panic and tear fruitlessly at his face tape, Andrew dances to “Easy Lover,” which is REALLY on-the-nose but also rather amusing (his Hedwig background comes in handy here a bit). And, it’s more Speedo time. Cunanan does of course eventually give him a breathing hole, having asserted his control long enough and also scoured the hotel room for stuff he can swipe.
And then he eats a room service steak. (The poor old dude seems super traumatized, and chickens out on calling the cops, which is a bit of a lame “SEE LOOK HE COULD’VE BEEN CAUGHT SOONER” thing that is unnecessary given the later one at the Miami Subs shop where the kid calls the cops but Cunanan leaves.)
I didn’t know about this final couture show, which was apparently a battle between Donatella’s girls – the waifs – and Versace’s, which per the show were women he thinks looked fuller and like they loved life. (That being, Naomi Campbell, so… obviously only fuller by certain standards.)
And it was in this outfit, roughly. They were not able to get a super great facial approximation for Naomi Campbell, although… IS there even one? And so they shot her from a great distance.
Victory for Versace…
… and sadness for Donatella, who at least flashes him a half-hearted thumbs-up after none of her clothes or models got the same warm reaction as his. Of course, this show conveys that by having the crowd applaud during the entire show, which is WHOLLY unaccurate and annoying to me. Also annoying: We never get to see this outfit.
Speaking of things in silver, while Ronnie os monologuing about opening a vending cart on South Beach with his new pal Andy, Cunanan is in the bathroom wrapping his face in duct tape, or maybe putting ON the tape helmet he’d earlier taken off the dude? I don’t know.
Ronnie thinks this is as weird as I do, but he has no other friends really and might want more crack, so.
Ricky Martin remains artfully burnished, and has a matching robe and swim trunks. His whole storyline is: Donatella hates him because he and G had an open relationship, and she thinks that introduced G to HIV/AIDS without giving him any of the things he wanted from life – like kids. Antonio then does some soul-searching and realizes he wants to stop swinging and marry Gianni somehow, because the oldest tragic plot device ever is to have your central couple realize it’s True Love right before one of them dies. (This might be accurate, though; I don’t know.)
I just thought you needed to see the tiling at the BOTTOM of the Versace pool.
Cathy Moriarty owns the pawn shop where Cunanan sells a stolen coin, and she is appropriately skeptical. I assume she’ll pop up as a witness as we go. This facial expression is my inner monologue almost all of the time.
There’s also a bit where Versace is on his front-facing balcony jawing jokingly with a drag queen dressed as Donatella (“I can’t let you in! One Donatella is enough!”). It really is amazing to think how accessible he was, and how safe he must have felt in this city that loved him. You just never see that anymore.
Although it is crazy to me that he didn’t have more security, even wandering around in plain clothes. Because Cunanan is here pictured skulking around outside, after having spent a day taking close-up photos of the gate and the house, and then he sets up camp and reads his Vogue book. A good guard or three might have noticed that.
And, here is the lace blouse Versace wears when Ricky Martin realizes he wants to stop banging random men and be monogomous and get married. Love is lace-blind, I guess.
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