The Assassination of Gianni Versace Episode 2
There’s a creeping sense of foreboding that is built effectively throughout this slower-paced episode, only to be deflated time and again. The effect builds stress for the viewer, and shows us that for Andrew Cunanan, violence was not indiscriminate but rather one of many ways to pass the time, like lying on the beach. In the premier, we were treated to an awful lot of Cunanan showing off his off-putting, yet somehow winning, chameleon-like qualities as he met people in different times, places, orientations, and socio-economic standings. But if the Andrew of Episode 1 is inscrutable, the one we get to know in Episode 2 is surprisingly candid. Even before he tells a cute guy in a club that he’s a serial killer, confessing his many fake personas, we see Ronny repeatedly pick up on his strangeness. “Manhunt” also expands on Max Greenfield’s Ronnie, a lonely HIV+ gay man who Andrew connects with easily. Ronnie’s story is heartbreaking because while we see it across Greenfield’s perturbed face every time he catches something amiss, he seems to want companionship so much that he’s willing to overlook his intuition. I hope we’ll be seeing more of Greenfield’s effective performance in the future, as his presence in Cunanan’s hotel room during the police raid suggested in the premier. Another heartbreaking moment comes courtesy of Andrew’s victim-who-wasn’t. The man clearly picks up guys often enough (and feels badly enough about it) that he answers “yes” when asked if he’s done it two or three times. The look on his face when he calls 911 to report what has happened is devastating. His self-doubt, shame, and likely correct guess about how that call would be received keep him from reporting, and Cunanan continues on his predatory way. To be clear, it’s not the man’s fault that Cunanan remained free. This small but portentous moment at the phone is an excellent reminder of the #MeToo dynamics specific to the experience of men who experience sexual violence, as the encounter with Cunanan surely is. Any experience where there’s no safe word (or even the means to say one, or otherwise object) and one person nearly dies cannot be considered consensual any longer, even if it started that way. Even if he paid for it.
The heartbreak of Gianni surviving HIV but being shot by a near-stranger doesn’t escape Donatella, but it’s a worthwhile reminder for a modern audience, particularly those to young to remember the days when the so-called Gay Plague was a death sentence. Here we also got one of our first real looks into Gianni’s life and creative process, and the way he thought of his life’s work. His wish for models who are not dainty but rather look like they eat, have sex, and live real lives is certainly pleasing to modern sensibilities, and is a reminder of the way he departed from his contemporaries. The shout-out to Carla Bruni (then a model, not yet a first lady), the rise of Galliano and McQueen are reminders that while Gianni is a legend, he still had to fight for it, the empire he created from nothing. In the premier, it comes across that Gianni is at least a happy participant in he and Antonio’s open sex life, although of course that comes from Antonio. This deeper look into their loving partnership shows that perhaps Gianni tired of that life before Antonio, and perhaps was never as interested to begin with. It’s sweet to see Antonio commit to a life together “in the evening,” not just in the morning, but the knowledge that they will lose each other (and a little real-world knowledge about how all of this turns out for Antonio) turns the moment into a wince. So far, almost every character who we’ve seen spend any real amount of time with Cunanan has figured out some aspect of his act, though I doubt most of them would suspect what he was truly capable of. The john who Cunanan almost suffocated, his college friend, the high school friend and her boyfriend, and poor Ronny have all noticed. In Murphy’s eyes, Cunanan is a compulsive liar and shapeshifter, though not the most diligent one. He can be convincing for a few minutes, but he quickly loses track of his lies, or otherwise doesn’t care to keep them straight. He even signs his full name and hotel address when he pawns a gold coin, and the pawn shop owner checks the board for where that flyer should be. All of this reinforces the larger point of Versace’s narrative: how did this guy get away with it?
