Watch the Trailer – fr

Watch the Trailer – fr

Illustration from article titled Maybe Ryan Murphy Has Finally Met His Match With Halston

Screenshot: Youtube

I formed all the opinions I currently have on Ryan Murphy’s work in college with just one episode of Nip / Tuck in which some plastic surgeons have built Aisha Tyler a clitoris from one toe, and this opinion is this: Ryan Murphy is not good. Every few years I challenge that opinion with an episode of the OJ Simpson show here, the sorority horror thing over there. But even Quarrel just helped me remember that I could just see again Everything that happened to Baby Jane should I want to see something good, rather than something less good. However, after watching the trailer for the upcoming Halston I am very, very ready to make a mistake!

Opening with a serious and organ-packed cover of Depeche Mode’s “Enjoy the Silence,” the trailer features Ewan McGregor camping him out as a megalomaniac, feisty coke version of the 1970s titan tasked with outfitting everyone. Studio 54 but Liza Minnelli specifically. The first glimpse alone seems like the series will do justice to the stupid tragedy of the decade. Not starring is the underrated Culkin, Rory, who I can’t wait to see young Joel Schumacher play. The lovely Mary Beth Peil (Gram de Dawson’s Creek) like Martha Graham and the always welcome Kelly Bishop. And I’m completely ready to be wrong Trial and error Krysta Rodriguez as Liza Minnelli, but I was hoping for a little more… Liza.

While I continue to insist that this is a Ryan Murphy’s joint, Halston was actually created by The case producer Sharr White and directed by Game of Thrones, Versace, and Card castle Guy Daniel Minahan, with Murphy credited for writing four episodes. The good thing about giving Halston the biopic treatment is there’s no way to go too much over-the-top with the source material, and McGregor brings in controlled energy to balance a role that could descend into parody. But my hopes have been high in the past, to be left abrupt and deflated on the floor of a performance tent. Here’s to that eternally springing hope with the ease of a one-shoulder draped dress flowing from a coca-sweat-covered chest at 4 a.m.


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