Sarah Hilary on The Assassination Of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story

Award-winning crime novelist, Sarah Hilary, tells us why she was enthralled by The Assassination Of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story and why it’s the crime drama of the year so far.

I’d missed the first two episodes of The Assassination Of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story because I really didn’t think it was for me. I went out to lunch with Alison Graham (TV Editor of Radio Times) and she asked me if I had been watching it. I had to confess that I hadn’t but she urged me to see it, and boy was she right. Everyone I’ve spoken to about it has been blown away by it. I haven’t seen any negative comments about it on social media either, which is very unusual – normally you get one or two people who find something to say about it.

I was particularly impressed by it from a writing point of view, and how they unpacked the story. Structurally, they started with the assassination of Versace himself. Then they peeled it back and told Andrew Cunanan’s story, a murder at a time as it were. It was only really in the final episode where they brought it back to the police chase. What I particularly liked about it was that they cast a very good-looking young actor to play Cunanan (Darren Criss), the psychopath. In the back of my head there has always been this question that has been ticking away about all these true crime serial killer projects that are out there at the moment – Zac Efron has done a Ted Bundy film (Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil and Vile), there’s something about Manson that’s coming out, and there’s WACO, about David Koresh. I did enter into this series of American Crime Story quite warily and wondered whether this was just going to be just another a serial-killer-on-steroids depiction, with some catwalk glamour thrown in.

I was worried about whether it would lose sight of the obscene murders – the disgusting, repellent nature of what actually happened – but also the victims, which often happens in serial killer stories. I thought it might feature a very good-looking, sexy young psychopath taking off his preppy glasses and, like Wonder Woman, is transformed into something evil. Thankfully, it was much, much more than that and took the time to really explore the origin of Cunanan’s psychopathy, as well as treat his victims with respect.

And I became hypnotised by it. It was set in a very Miami Vice sort of world; a hyper-real, iconoclastic world of glamour and fashion, but where real murders took place. And what I didn’t know that Gianni Versace was killed by a serial killer, so suddenly there was an element of surprise and wanting to know the full story.

Those first two episodes were astonishing in their brutality. We not only had Versace’s death – slain on the steps of his opulent mansion – but also the ‘hammer murder’. I did question whether I could carry on because I found them very difficult to watch. But the writing and the structure of the series took you back – we saw the brutal hammering to death of his friend Jeffrey Trail, but we then spent the next two episodes finding out how Cunanan met him. They brought Jeffrey back to life, showed you his own torment and we followed his journey. We got to know him and admire him. If they had done it the other way – shown a young man conflicted about his sexuality, trying to escape the military, experimenting, trying to be brave, failing, trying to be brave, only to meet a terrible, awful, futile death, it wouldn’t have had the same impact if we had not been given this context. Jeffrey Trail had people who loved him. He had a life. He was brave.

It’s the same when Cunanan killed another young man later in the series. They were dancing in a club. They were both very beautiful. It was a spectacle. But by adding the humanity even though you’ve seen him die in the most horrible way, the brutality and callousness of Cunanan’s crime are given extra weight. For the victims you feel real sadness because we felt like we knew them.

When it comes out on DVD, I intend to watch it again but in reverse order, because that’s almost how it was structured. It was masterful. I’m pretty sure the whole pace of it deliberately slowed down as the series unfolded, which is very unusual. The first episode was very fast paced, but by the time we got to the middle of the series, when Cunanan has tip-toed over that edge into a habit he can’t stop and he’s interacting with his victims, those scenes are full of breathing space. Almost like screenwriter Tom Rob Smith’s previous work, London Spy. It’s very poetic. With its drawn-out moments, it really makes you think about Cunanan; about who he was and why he was doing what he was doing.

This nuanced, considered approach to exploring psychopathy made not only Cunanan a fully-rounded character, but also his prey real people, not martyrs or victims. Towards the end, there was a lovely line from a friend of Cunanan’s, a drug addict who more or less lived on Miami Beach, who said to the FBI when they questioned him: “You thought he was disgusting, long before he became disgusting.” Serial killers are often fetishised on television or in film, and to hear this line – an acknowledgement that serial killers are disgusting – is very rare.

Many serial killer series or films really focus on the chase and the cat-and-mouse element. With The Assassination Of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story the camera drew back and invested instead in the things we, as viewers, really value in a crime story: the compassion and the humanity, and the pity and the pathos. These things were layered delicately and slowly, and in a structural sense, it was a delight to watch. As a writer, I’m constantly fascinated at how screenwriters structure their stories, and Versace was an incredible example in peeling the layers back.

And unlike its predecessor (The People v. OJ Simpson), which often felt like a documentary, this really was a fully-formed drama and an original piece of work. It was so compelling and I can’t remember the last TV show I wanted to watch live as much as this, as opposed to catch-up. Tom Rob Smith has woven such an incredible story from such a sordid truth, one that has a mythic arc that includes all the themes I love to explore in my books: the legacy of childhood and the shadow it casts, and other people’s expectations. It’s going to take some serious beating.

Sarah Hilary is an award-winning crime author, whose fifth Marnie Rome book – Come And Find Me – is out to buy now, which The Observer said: “Hilary belts out a corker of a story, all wrapped up in her vivid, effortless prose. If you’re not reading this series of London-set police procedurals then you need to start right away.”

Sarah Hilary on The Assassination Of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story

TV Review: American Crime Story: The Assassination of Gianni Versace

★★★★☆

After the brilliant first season of American Crime Story, exploring the murder trial of OJ Simpson, I did wonder whether the team behind the hit show would be able to reach those heights again. However, the second instalment, Versace, if at times a little confusing, was an incredible journey into the psyche of a disturbed serial killer.

To start with, the name of this instalment of American Crime Story is a little misleading. The show spends very little time on the assassination of the titular character, and the Versace family in general, instead favouring the exploration of the man behind the murder of Versace: Andrew Cunanan. This has led to criticism of the show from some, but I understand why the show took this tack – when it comes to serial killers, we tend to be more intrigued by the killers themselves than their victims, even if one of those victims is themselves famous.

Darren Criss is outstanding in his portrayal of Versace’s killer Andrew Cunanan. In a role that is the complete antithesis of his role as charming, openly gay high schooler Blaine Anderson on Glee, Criss shines as he portrays the closeted Cunanan as a charming, manipulative and deeply disturbed killer, whilst also delving into the crushing loneliness beneath. It’s an incredible and nuanced performance which somehow has you both feeling incredibly uneasy and disturbed and yet also feeling pity for Cunanan at the same time.

The back and forth of the timeline does feel incredibly confusing at times. It works for the overall narrative, building up a complex picture of Cunanan as a killer and how he came to be, but it does get frustrating at times. I often found myself losing where I was in the story because it wasn’t chronological, leading to moments of “wait wasn’t that person dead last episode?” The ultimate payoff is good and I don’t think the story would have been as compelling had it been told in a traditional narrative structure, but it does mean you have to deal with some frustration as the narrative goes backwards and forwards in time.

The cinematography of the series cannot be overstated: the visuals are over the top and stunning and it is hard not to be dragged in to the lavish world of 1990’s Miami and juxtaposing this lavish background against the sheer horror of Cunanan’s actions, is very, very effective. Versace also boasts an impressive soundtrack, with each music choice perfectly fitted to the scene it accompanies.

By not solely devoting the series to Cunanan’s most famous victim, as the title of the series mistakenly suggests, we as viewers get to see and explore the lesser known victims of Cunanan’s murder spree, with earnest and endearing performances from both newcomer Cody Fern (who plays Cunanan’s lover and second victim, David Madson) and Finn Wittrock (who plays Jeffrey Traill, the first victim of Cunanan’s murder spree). It can be all too easy to forget in the glitz and glamour of the world of Versace, that most of Cunanan’s victims were ordinary, closeted gay men, who were it not for the notoriety of Cunanan’s last victim, would likely have remained completely unknown. For me, the stories of Lee Miglin, David Madson and Jeffrey Traill, were just as, if not more compelling than Versace’s.

The Versace family take somewhat of a lesser role in the series, despite Versace’s name being featured in the title, with neither Donatella nor Gianni appearing in every episode. Whilst both Edgar Ramirez (Gianni Versace) and Penelope Cruz (Donatella) put in great performances, particularly Cruz (Ricky Martin is also surprisingly good as Versace’s lover Antonio D’Amico), the Versace side of the storyline was always the less compelling one for me. I actually preferred watching the stories of Cunanan’s less famous victims playing out and seeing how they were unfortunate enough to get caught up in his destructive downward spiral. 

The exploration of homophobia in the 90’s can seem a little heavy-handed at times, especially in the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” episode, but there’s no doubt that the show achieves what it sets out to here, showing how homophobia and 90’s society allowed Cunanan to get away with as many murders as he did.

The Versace family has come out against the series calling it “a work of fiction” and at times, it does seem as if the series is filling in the blanks a little, but it never claims to be a completely accurate telling of Cunanan’s murder spree – it is based of Maureen Orth’s non-fiction book Vulgar Favors, but the show makes it clear that certain scenes and conversations are imagined or expanded on for dramatic effect. This is partly where the show falls down a little. As addicting as the insight into the mind of a killer is, there’s perhaps not enough information to make the nine hours of TV as tightly plotted as they could be.

Overall, Versace is a dark and disturbing look into Andrew Cunanan and the society that created a serial killer, and whilst the back and forth storytelling is at times confusing and the lack of information about the murders means that show lags in places, Darren Criss’ career-defining performance, a stellar supporting cast and a combination of stunning visuals and audio make for disturbing, yet ultimately compelling viewing.

TV Review: American Crime Story: The Assassination of Gianni Versace

Hunting Seasons Ep. 63 – The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story

Blood, guts, and designer dresses. It’s time to explore American Crime Story: The Assassination of Gianni Versace. This week Brod and Damask are joined by the wonderful Lauren Jankovskis. They need all the help they can get, because behind all the glamour and nineties fashion there is a whole lot of horror. | 2 May 2018

*starts at 49:48

Best TV Series, Seasons of 2018 | Innov8tiv

The Assassination of Gianni Versace

FX’s American crime story has picked a real, high-profile murder, dramatize it, and nail it. Andrew Cunanan, a serial killer, pathological liar and creep show extraordinaire, is the leading player as the show leads to his three-month murder spree in United States. Cunanan’s role is played by Darren Criss who delivers an impressive performance by bringing humanity to the sociopathic character.

Best TV Series, Seasons of 2018 | Innov8tiv

Why is TV so obsessed with crimes from the ’90s?

The devastating terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001, were such a monumental moment in recent U.S. history that it’s tempting sometimes to divide American popular culture into “pre-9/11” and “post-9/11.” Tempting, yes — but not so easily done. Looking back, it’s surprising just how many TV shows that we tend to identify with the ‘90s actually aired a sizable chunk of their episodes after the World Trade Center towers fell. Friends, Frasier, ER, Law & Order, NYPD Blue … They all carried on the spirit of the decade in which they were born, in an era when the world behind the television screen suddenly felt very different.

That schism between the seemingly benign atmosphere of America in the ’90s and the “we can die at any moment” anxiety of the ’00s is the subject of The Looming Tower, Hulu’s miniseries adaptation of Lawrence Wright’s book about the U.S. intelligence-gathering errors — and the stealthy forces of international malevolence — that led to 9/11. The differences between the ’90s and now also serve as subtext to both series so far of American Crime Story (both the multi-Emmy-winning hit The People v. O.J. Simpson, and the more under-the-radar The Assassination of Gianni Versace), as well as Law & Order True Crime: The Menendez Murders, Manhunt: Unabomber, Unsolved: The Murders of Tupac & the Notorious B.I.G., and Waco.

During the past few years, we’ve been living through a boom-time for true-crime stories, with the podcast Serial and the TV docu-series Making a Murderer and The Jinx fueling the phenomenon. And thanks to the huge success of The People v. O.J. Simpson (and the Oscar-winning documentary O.J.: Made in America, which aired in five parts on ESPN around the same time), trend-chasing TV producers have been on the lookout for more tales of murder and scandal, drawn from an era that its target audience might remember.

There’s undeniably something cynically opportunistic about this sudden boom. It’s not like Law & Order creator Dick Wolf backed an L&O-branded miniseries about Erik and Lyle Menendez because his writing team (led by René Balcer) had something profound to say about American life in the mid-’90s. The calculation for pretty much of all of these shows has likely been something like, “Boy, people really tuned in for those O.J. things … how can we get in on that?”

But here’s what’s surprising: Pretty much all of these series have been good.

[…] The Assassination of Gianni Versace has been even bolder. To tell the story of how serial killer Andrew Cunanan (played with impressive oiliness by Glee star Darren Criss) murdered five men in four months, the show begins with him shooting the famed fashion designer Versace (Édgar Ramirez), and then moves roughly backwards in time episode by episode, amplifying the tragedy by showing Cunanan getting less desperate and more hopeful. More to the point, The Assassination of Gianni Versace very purposefully portrays the more underground nature of gay culture in the ’90s — when AIDS was more of a danger, “outing” could kill a career, and marriage was out of the question.

Why is TV so obsessed with crimes from the ’90s?

American Crime Story: The Assassination of Gianni Versace Review

One of the most highly anticipated series of the year, American Crime Story returned to television with its second season, The Assassination of Gianni Versace, focussing on Andrew Cunanan’s murdering spree in the 1990s. It comes off the back of its first season, The People vs. O.J. Simpson, which was met with widespread critical acclaiming, winning the Primetime Emmy Award for Outstanding Limited Series, along with awards for its stars Courtney B. Vance, Sarah Paulson, and Sterling K. Brown. To say that The Assassination of Gianni Versace had a lot of weight on its shoulders to be good would be an understatement, as The People vs. O.J. Simpson set up the anthology series to be one of the best in all television, and to say that it delivered to those high standards would be difficult, but what we have is a high quality series nonetheless.

In terms of the show’s narrative structure, it takes a different approach to the first series as we start with the titular murder in the very first scene, and then work back episode by episode, before the finale focussing on the aftermath of Versace’s murder. This gives us a different approach to the way that we view the characters, which is vital in a series such as this which tells such a tragic event. The first we see of the murderous Andrew Cunanan, played brilliantly by Darren Criss, is of him preparing to murder, and then murdering fashion designer Gianni Versace, who is precisely portrayed by the excellent Edgar Ramirez. As we work backwards through the series, we unravel more and more information about Cunanan, as we see him not falling into the normal characteristics of what we see normally portrayed in serial killers in fiction. This is because, as crazy as the story is, its a true story, and the producers of the show have a fine balancing act in the way that they portray these characters, almost all of whom end up with a demise of some sort or another. They pull this off to great effect, as the covering of multiple time periods allows us to see the characters at their highest and lowest points, in particular Cunanan, who becomes the focus of the series and leads to the real question trying to be answered- why did he do the things he did?

In his portrayal of Cunanan, Darren Criss does an outstanding job in what is a complicated role. He completely runs the show, as he gets to be flamboyant, confident, yet slimy and creepy, helped by the dramatic irony that comes with the show as we see what Cunanan is capable of, and with this in mind stops the audience for having much sympathy for him. Criss’ dedication to the role is admirable, and with a lesser actor in the role, the show may completely collapse, that’s the level of intensity he brings to the table. In supporting roles, Edgar Ramirez is uncanny as Versace, and he really takes control of the scenes that he is in. Some have complained about the lack of insight we see into Versace’s life, yet personally I found it satisfactory due to the way that Ramirez really gets down to the nitty gritty of the character in the limited scenes that he is in for us to get an impression of what he was like. In recurring roles, Cody Fern and Finn Wittrock are mesmerizing as David Madson and Jeff Trail, respectively, with the episodes that they appear being real highlights of the series, in particular “House by the Lake”, which is an incredibly intense episode with the opening 10-15 minutes almost being like something out of a horror film. Also in Guest Roles, Judith Light brings real emotional heft to her role as Marilyn Miglin, particularly in “A Random Killing”, which is a real tour-de-force for her, and Jon Jon Briones is really terrific in the final two episodes of the series as Andrew’s father, with his scenes with Criss towards the end “Creator / Destroyer” being another series highlight. However, Penelope Cruz’s performance as Donatella Versace came across as quite wooden, and didn’t quite match the tone of the series, which is a shame due to her being such a talented and experienced actress, especially alongside mostly character actors, who very much steal the show from her.

Taking on a different challenge from the first season, with this being more of a character study and asking why, rather than a ‘whodunit’, FX has made American Crime Story to be a force to be reckoned with the way that it can seemlessly approach different kinds of crime, which bodes well for the upcoming seasons of the show. Does the series match the dizzy heights of The People vs. O.J. Simpson? Not quite, but it does manage to tell this story in the right way- honouring the victims of these crimes, it’s deeply reflective and portrays the real tragedy of the events, and does it in its own stylistic way that is fitting to the 21st century television audience.

American Crime Story: The Assassination of Gianni Versace Review

Who’s Gonna Tell You When It’s Too Late: American Crime Story: The Assassination of Gianni Versace,’The House by the Lake’

Going into episode four of The Assassination of Gianni Versace, we again find ourselves jumping backwards in time, this time to a week before the events of episode three. Last hour, we saw Andrew’s (Darren Criss) murder of Lee Miglin (Mike Farrell), and the dynamic there was of the older man taken by the younger, filled with the thrill of being alive that Andrew’s presence brought into his life. Episode four flips this situation, Andrew now the one enamoured with someone he can’t have.

We begin the episode inside the apartment of David (Cody Fern), a young architect entering the prime of his life and career. Andrew looks on as David takes a phone call, giving him the go-ahead to present a major new project. Andrew says he is happy for David, and for once it doesn’t seem to come from a place of naked jealousy. His buzzer ringing, David wonders who it could be. Andrew informs him that it is their mutual friend Jeff (Finn Wittrock). In fact, Jeff is more than a friend to David, and Jeff is someone Andrew considers a rival for the object of his affection. Bringing Jeff up from the lobby, David tells him that Andrew “knows about them”. Wondering how this could be possible, David tells his friend that Andrew has this “feline intuition”. As soon as Jeff enters the apartment, Andrew brutally murders him. We see Andrew Cunanan again exercising and manipulating control: he has invited Jeff here to murder him — to bind David to him, to destroy his life so the object of his affection has no other choice but to join with him or die. Andrew never makes this stark choice a verbal thing, it is simply obvious. When David, clearly in shock, asks Andrew why he did this thing, Andrew responds, “I lost control”. This, in itself, is a lie. Andrew knew exactly what he was going to do — he constructed this scenario for his own ends, and always had a plan. When David pushes Andrew to call the police, Andrew outlines the cold facts, “This is your apartment, you let him in. I’ll get thirty years — but you’ll get ten.” Cunanan then produces a gun, telling David that he can’t “allow” his life to be ruined over something he had no part in. Andrew has constructed a situation where the only outcomes David can see are death or imprisonment, and so he must go with Andrew. Slowly, surely, Andrew makes it clear that David is in a different world now — his world. David feels he has no choice other than to go with Andrew, wherever that might lead.

The discovery of the body in David’s apartment does not take long. A worried co-worker has the building super let her in, and the police are quickly informed. They look about the apartment, find the evidence of murder, the body wrapped in a rug, know that David is gay, and quickly construct a scenario — David met a man, something went wrong and David is the body wrapped in the rug. This falls apart when a detective notices the body does not have David’s blonde hair. The co-worker tells the police that there was a friend staying with David, a man named Andrew who seemed to be telling tall tales about himself. The police then assume Andrew the victim, David the murderer. As such, they have to seal the scene and return with a warrant. This leaves David in an ever-more precarious, dire situation. The police aren’t looking to save him, they aren’t looking for the murderer, Andrew Cunanan. David is left in the clutches of a dangerous man, isolated and at his mercy.

This bleeds into a scene of the young David, bird hunting with his father (John Lacy). After his father shoots a goose, David gently holds its limp, lifeless head in his hands and runs. He asks his father if he is mad at him for fleeing, for not being a hunter. His father simply responds that it doesn’t matter, that they can still spend time together, and that the only thing he wants for his son is to never be sad. David is a sensitive child, getting nothing from killing, and his father understands this. He won’t bond his son to himself with things that he isn’t comfortable with, he simply wants his son to be happy and enjoy their time together.

As the police perform their investigation on the body in the apartment, they find out his real identity and, hence, David and Andrew are both missing. The police talk to David’s parents, outlining their belief that he is a suspect, and we cut between that  scenario, and David and Andrew. David talks about his lifelong fear of being outed, questioning what he has really been running from. As Andrew and David arrive at a bar, David makes his choice to try and escape from David. He smashes the bathroom window and looks out onto the dark street outside. At the same moment, Andrew is alone and listening to a a bar room performer singing The Cars’ Drive. Andrew breaks down in tears, trying to repress it, but cannot. This is the second time in the show we have seen Andrew find some kind of emotional release through music — the first being at an opera in episode one. The song deals with the absence of the familiar in the wake of a relationship breakdown, the hole left when someone is suddenly gone from one’s life. To Andrew, it seems that this song is also a clear, puncturing instrument of his own warped, mutated vision of “love”. Perhaps, in this moment, Andrew understands that he can never have a normal relationship with another human being — only ones predicated on his compulsive need for control and acceptance. He realises the only way he can tie someone to himself is through actions like those he has undertaken with David, through force and coercion. David returns, having decided he has nowhere to run to, and Andrew grasps his hands across the table.

Eating in a diner, Andrew and David talk about the night they met — how Andrew was throwing money around, and they went back to Andrew’s thousand-dollar-a-night hotel room. They laugh and reminisce, and then David lays bare Andrew’s fakery. Just as Andrew often obtains power from reveling in other people’s pretensions, now he is on the other side. As they drive along a lonesome road, David continues breaking down Andrew’s motivations — the killing of Jeff, the plan to force David to be by his side. Eventually Andrew breaks, holding his gun to David’s chest and asking, “Why are you always talking about the past? We had a future, David.” Andrew doesn’t like talking about the past, his actions then, because they show that he is a false person, someone always operating in the moment and leaving the past behind, someone looking ahead to an impossible future. Standing beside a lake, Andrew asserts that this — David and Andrew’s future — could have been real. David finally tells him that it simply cannot be. In that moment, Andrew makes the decision to kill David, to destroy any illusion of a happy future. As he runs for his life, David has a final vision of his father, the two of them sitting together in their homely cabin, drinking coffee in serene, comforting silence. David is in the place of his childhood again, where everything was simple, uncomplicated pleasures, where the expanse of life before him was limitless in its possibilities. Then we snap to reality and David falls down, shot from behind. Andrew kills him and lies by his side for a while, before taking off once more and tumbling further down into the horror of his own creation.

Who’s Gonna Tell You When It’s Too Late: American Crime Story: The Assassination of Gianni Versace,’The House by the Lake’

The Best TV Shows of 2018 (So Far)

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

Producer-director Ryan Murphy’s most uncompromising, mysterious, off-putting, ultimately devastating mini-series is the story of an assassin’s journey through misery and derangement that doubles as an expose of American homophobia in the 1990s. The most daring thing about it is its structure, which starts with the killing of Gianni Versace and works its way gradually backward through time, a gambit that cements a feeling of awful inevitability even as it explores cultural root causes. —Matt Zoller Seitz

The Best TV Shows of 2018 (So Far)

‘It’s time for a blanket ban on naming pathetic, deluded sick killers’

I’ve just finished watching a series on the BBC which had the most misleading title since Bobby Davro: Rock With Laughter.

Just as mirth failed to rock anyone within wincing distance of Bobby’s show, so The Assassination of Gianni Versace had little to do with the murdered fashion designer.

It was basically a nine-hour glamorisation of his murderer, serial killer Andrew Cunanan .

The sad, not good-looking, attention-seeking, blood-lusting misfit was played by Darren Criss, the handsome, talented, empathetic star of the hit TV show Glee.

The Versace series effectively endowed star status on a man who brutally took five lives. It elevated a non-entity from being the killer of a celebrity to a celebrity killer.

If Cunanan, an extreme narcissist whose only aim in life was achieving fame, had watched this series he’d have been living out his ultimate wet dream.

Which is why I had this uneasy feeling throughout.

That in some bedsit, another inadequate saddo who couldn’t find a job or form a relationship and blamed his plight on a big, bad world that didn’t understand him, was seeing his own story unfold.

And when it came to the scene, after Versace’s murder, where Cunanan dances around a room howling with delight and swigging champagne as his face appears on every US TV news channel, that bedsit saddo’s mind was made up – it was his destiny to copy Cunanan by forcing the world to give him the recognition he was currently denied.

Then, on Monday, a van was driven onto a Toronto pavement claiming 10 lives , and the man accused of the murders, Alek Minassian, had his smiling face plastered all over our TV screens, as friends described him as a loner who struggled to hold down a relationship.

He’d been inspired, not by Cunanan, but by another misfit who’d achieved fame through a murder spree. Minassian belongs to an online group called Incel, which stands for Involuntary Celibate, a mysogynistic rabble who believe they’re being unfairly denied love and validation by women because they’re unattractive or socially awkward.

And who pledge violence as revenge.

In what is alleged to have been Minassian’s last Facebook post he paid tribute to the group’s hero, woman-hater Elliot Rodger, who had killed six people in a gun rampage near the University of California on his “day of retribution” in 2014.

Who knows, maybe the fame being showered on Minassian is now inspiring a similarly inadequate loser to follow in his path. And on it goes.

As we approach the anniversary of the Manchester terror attack, when 22 innocents were murdered, I only want to hear words about those lovely young people still deeply mourned by their shattered families.

I don’t want to see the face of their killer. I wish we’d never heard his name.

Indeed I wish the world’s major TV and publishing organisations would agree, for an experimental period, to a blanket ban on naming all terrorists, serial killers and mass-murderers.

Referring to them as Just Another Pathetic Non-Entity.

With the internet, it’s impossible for the names not to come out. But a global mass media ban would mean their faces weren’t plastered all over TV screens, their back stories weren’t told in papers, and all focus instead would be on the victims whose lives were stolen in their bid for recognition.

Because if it stopped even one deluded narcissist from killing due to there being no mass fame on offer, the experiment would have been worth it.

And might be made permanent.

‘It’s time for a blanket ban on naming pathetic, deluded sick killers’

Television Review – The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story

The second season of television super-producer Ryan Murphy’s social-politics-minded true crime anthology series is neither as spectacularly star-studded or thematically wide-ranging as the first season, the Emmy-winning The People vs. O.J. Simpson. But The Assassination of Gianni Versace, written entirely by Tom Rob Smith (Maggie Cohn has a co-writer credit on the penultimate episode) with a premiere episode directed by Murphy, is a more focused and reflectively dichotomous work. Becoming ever-more intensely about the fascinatingly troubled young man who killed the famed Italian fashion designer in Miami in 1997 (and at least four other men as well), this American Crime Story is an absorbing, shocking, and nuanced meditation on the social and psychological costs of closeted homosexuality and the nature of capitalist success, on the image we wear like a mask and project to the world and the true, less presentable self that we can never really disguise.

The Assassination of Gianni Versace opens with its titular murder and tracks back to explore the path that led killer Andrew Cunanan (played by Darren Criss, in the season’s star-turn standout performance) to take the life of Versace (Édgar Ramírez), It also considers key moments in that life (often employed as sharply mirroring contrasts to Cunanan’s degenerating life and choices), as well as the grief-stricken tug-of-war over his memory and legacy after his death between his sister and design partner Donatella (Penélope Cruz) and his lover and life partner Antonio D’Amico (Ricky Martin; yes, that Ricky Martin, and he’s good, too). For a viewer unfamiliar with the details of Versace’s life and of the background of his killer, the narrative is full of surprises and revelations, illustrating details and remarkable visual metaphors. It will also work quite hard in its lesser moments to make you care about and believe in fashion design as a vibrant and meaningful art form. Unless you’re already of such a mind, you will leave unconvinced.

But after an establishing episode or two (the manhunt for Versace’s killer is teased in the opening episode and then deferred until the closing hour), the show really becomes The Disturbing Adventures of Andrew Cunanan. The central serial killer is a charming and fairly open homosexual, a sociopathic, self-aggrandizing pathological liar, and given more defined psychological contours as his narrative arc fills in innovatively backwards. He is forever making ambitious plans that he does not work hard enough to achieve, lavishly spending money he has not earned, seeking to impress others with fancifully exaggerated tales about his connections to wealth and fame, and bouncing between secretly-gay wealthy sugar daddies and potential younger paramours. A cossetted golden child of his Fillipino father (Jon Jon Briones), who flees the United States ahead of federal charges of embezzlement and leaves his abused wife (Joanna P. Adler) and the spoiled Andrew to fend for themselves, Andrew runs in gay community circles in his native San Diego and San Francisco, eventually drifts towards drug abuse and prostitution, and is exposed and rejected by several friends and lovers in quick succession, triggering the murder spree that ends with Versace.

Cunanan’s fractured, manipulative, sociopathic psyche is repeatedly contrasted with the varied group of gay men whom he meets, befriends, and, in many cases, kills, through whom The Assassination of Gianni Versace provides a notably multifaceted view of the experience of being gay in America in the still-unaccepting 1990s. Versace himself came out publically in an interview with The Advocate in 1995, despite the concerns of his sister; after his death, the deep grief of his partner D’Amico (Martin himself came out a few years ago, at age 39) is exacerbated by being denied any acknowledgement of their relationship or compensation for the loss by the Versace family and business, a common experience for same-sex partners without legal union rights.

Cunanan’s other lovers, acquaintances, and victims reflect other facets of the homosexual experience: Lee Miglin (Mike Farrell) is a Chicago real estate developer with a public marriage to infomercial perfume hawker Marilyn Miglin (a formidable Judith Light) and private secrets; Norman Blachford (Michael Nouri) is another wealthy older man who takes on Cunanan as a live-in lover/style consultant/assistant, but sees more readily through his web of lies; David Madson (Cody Fern) is a small-town Midwesterner who comes out to his traditionally conservative father in a scene that doesn’t entirely follow any predictable script; and the perspective of Jeff Trail (Finn Wittrock), a closeted Navy officer, provides a sharply political commentary on homophobia in the U.S. military and the contemporaneous bureaucratic injustice of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” (which was only actually suspended in 2011).

But Andrew Cunanan himself, as characterized in Criss’s tremendous performance, is the key carrier of The Assassination of Gianni Versace‘s thematic meanings concerning the fraught performativity of identity in American capitalism. Andrew is not closeted like most of those other gay men, but he is nonetheless hiding his true self and projecting a falsified, grandiose image for the world. His father taught him to perform success at all times, even if it actually eludes him. Once he begins killing, Cunanan of course hides his murderous, monstrous nature from the world to remain at large. But he is always wearing a mask even before that, playing the role of a charming, worldly, confidently interesting young man with illustrious connections and swaths of wealth and privilege when the real Andrew Cunanan, at his core, is financially precarious, increasingly desperate, and inherently insecure, forever seeking love from others but cripplingly incapable of feeling it in return. Like all confidence men, there is a confidence-shaped hole at his centre.

Ever in contrast to the daring, visionary designer Gianni Versace, who poured his sensibility into his clothing, Andrew Cunanan dons outfits with handsome swagger but never can inhabit them, never seems at home in his own skin. The Assassination of Gianni Versace‘s brilliant leap is to delve more deeply and even encourage a perverse identification with the serial killer Cunanan rather than its titular figure, and to suggest that his obsession with surface appearance and his related disconnect from the truths of his own existence constitutes a typically American quagmire of identity formation, reflecting the dilemmas of our own time as well as of those of 20 years ago.

Television Review – The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story