love story

Daryl Hannah is no fan of FX’s “Love Story: John F. Kennedy Jr. & Carolyn Bessette.” She made that abundantly clear in an op-ed for the New York Times that also criticized the series for what she claims is a misogynistic portrayal of her younger self.

“It’s appalling to me that I even have to defend myself against a television show,” Hannah, 65, wrote in the op-ed published Friday. “These are not creative embellishments of personality. They are assertions about conduct — and they are false.”

A representative for FX did not immediately respond to a request for comment Friday.

“Splash” and “Kill Bill” star Hannah, whose romance with Kennedy in the 1990s made for tabloid fodder before his marriage to Bessette, wrote that the Ryan Murphy-produced project depicted her as “irritating, self-absorbed, whiny and inappropriate.” She wrote that the show also depicted her as a cocaine-loving, selfish obstacle in the way of the series’ late lovers. Kennedy and Bessette Kennedy died in a plane crash in 1999.

These creative choices, she claimed, were “no accident.”

Hannah decried her story being used as a “narrative device” to drive tension in the series and as a result, the series fell into “textbook misogyny” by pitting two women — in this case, actor Dree Hemingway’s Daryl Hannah and Sarah Pidgeon’s Carolyn Bessette — against each other.

The actor, also a filmmaker and advocate for environmental and senior health causes, also distanced herself from the series’ “untrue” depictions of her life, behavior, actions and relationship with Kennedy.

“I have never desecrated any family heirloom or intruded upon anyone’s private memorial,” she wrote. “I have never planted any story in the press. I never compared Jacqueline Onassis’ death to a dog’s.”

“Love Story,” created by Connor Hines, premiered in February with Paul Anthony Kelly starring as Kennedy. Hannah wrote that since the show’s debut, she received many “hostile and even threatening” messages from viewers who believe the series’ depictions.

Before Hannah’s op-ed, Murphy received criticism from Jack Schlossberg, the grandson of John F. Kennedy and nephew of John F. Kennedy Jr. In an interview with “CBS News Sunday Morning,” the 33-year-old political commentator said Murphy “knows nothing” about his family and that the prolific TV creator is making a “ton of money on a grotesque display of someone else’s life.”

While she has often chosen not to address “outrageous lies, crappy stories and unflattering characterizations,” Hannah wrote her “silence should not be mistaken for agreement with lies.” She said she felt compelled to speak out against the series’ depiction of her because continuing her “good work,” including her philanthropic efforts, “requires an intact reputation.”

Hannah said she has respected the Kennedy family’s privacy and, like Schlossberg, condemned “self-serving sensationalists trading in gossip, innuendo and speculation.”

“In a digital era, entertainment often becomes collective memory,” she wrote. “Real names are not fictional tools. They belong to real lives.”

As a child in Newark, N.J., Narciso Rodriguez was often transported back to Cuba by the stories from his family and their friends. He walked the halls of El Encanto, a Havana department store and fashion mecca on the island — one that drew in celebrity clientele and featured haute-couture designs and fragrances from the far-flung fashion capitals of Paris and Milan.

“I don’t know that they could have afforded any of those things when they were in Cuba,” he tells De Los. “But they certainly filled my imagination with beautiful stories and laid the foundation for my work.”

It was the women in his life — the “amazing, powerful, loud, colorful dynamos,” as he describes them — who inspired him to pursue a career in fashion.

“Their stories, their lives, their power, their curves, it all influenced me,” he says. “They’re the reason I wanted to create things.”

Over the last three decades, the renowned designer has earned a reputation for sleek, flattering lines and effortless shapes, most famously seen on the career-launching dress he designed for his friend Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy to wear on her wedding day. The bias-cut silk slip has remained a source of inspiration for generations of brides since, and has been making waves again thanks to the FX series “Love Story: John F. Kennedy Jr. and Carolyn Bessette.”

Omari K. Chancellor as Gordon Henderson, from left, Sarah Pidgeon as Carolyn Bessette, Tonatiuh as Narciso Rodriguez in FX’s “Love Story: John F. Kennedy Jr. & Carolyn Bessette”

(Eric Liebowitz / FX)

“Love Story” will follow the couple’s wedding in the latest episode, out March 5. (Rodriguez is portrayed by Tonatiuh on the show.)

After designing Bessette-Kennedy’s dress, Rodriguez launched his own label and a fragrance line, and has continued to create designs that are woven into the fabric of American history — Michelle Obama wore his dress on election night in 2008.

De Los spoke with Rodriguez about his career, upbringing and memories of designing Bessette-Kennedy’s dress.

You’ve spoken about how inspired you were by the women in your life growing up. Are there any “fashion icons” from your family or neighborhood that you could point to from your childhood?

You know, I’m so lucky because I was raised in a very Cuban household in a very culturally rich community in Newark. I mean, it was Italian, Spanish, Cuban, Puerto Rican, Black. It was everything. But I always think back to when I was very, very young, there was a kind of matriarch here in the neighborhood. Her name was Concha and she was kind of this lightning rod. My dad’s sister was married to her son, so when my parents came to the U.S., she gave them a place to stay. She would teach all of the young women how to cook and gave everyone a place to stay until they got on their feet. She was larger than life, she was like “Auntie Mame.” She had these great ‘60s beehive wigs in amazing wig boxes, she made these beautiful Chanel suits for herself, and had all these gold bangles, great lipstick and stilettos. When she came into the room, she just radiated power, joy and style. I always think of her as being my first signpost on the road.

They were all beautiful, you know? My aunts and my mom were the most beautiful, glamorous women. None of them were wearing designer clothes, but they took great pride and great care in how they looked, and that really made an impression on me.

How did that impression translate into a concrete passion? How did you go about actually pursuing a career in fashion?

I loved architecture. I loved building things, so I was always drawing, sketching and sculpting. Then I would see my mom take a piece of fabric and the way she could take something flat and shapeless and turn it into a garment was fascinating. By the time I was 13, I was doing fashion illustration, and I got a job in a tailor shop. Later, I enrolled myself in Saturday courses at Parsons [School of Design], and I kind of had to hide it from my parents at first. I felt like I couldn’t be a fashion designer, you know, because of the whole “macho” idea, but I just kept going. I was lucky that I was someone who always knew what they wanted to do, and that Parsons recognized I had talent for it at a young age.

I was exposed to really great people there, too. Donna Karan was a critic, Calvin Klein was a critic, Oscar de la Renta too. I got to do projects with all of them, and then I was hired after school by Donna Karan while she was still at Anne Klein. It was an amazing experience, and then I got poached by Calvin Klein, which was a very different experience.

How so?

It was incredible, but just very different. Whereas Anne Klein was this melting pot of creativity, Calvin was much more image-driven and precision-driven. He brought in great talents to collaborate with, so on any given day, you’d be working with the most amazing photographers, stylists and art directors. It was a really great finishing school as a young person.

You arrived at Calvin Klein during a period of reinvention for the brand. This was in the era of Kate Moss, and the famous “Marky Mark” print ads. We see a version of it in “Love Story,” but what was it like to actually be there?

When I got there, I think around 1989, it hadn’t really started to change yet. And I thought, “Wow, I made a really big mistake. This is not my aesthetic, not my thing.” But it changed very quickly, and it was very exciting. [Calvin] worked very hard. He was very focused, and he appreciated that I could keep up. Like everybody, there was a rough initiation period, but afterward, he gave me the opportunity to work on some tailored pieces that sold really well at retail, so I was rewarded with more opportunities.

But it was the ‘90s, and it was New York, and it was brilliant. It felt like the whole city was reinventing itself, and Calvin was a leader in that. All the best photographers, the most brilliant artists were there. Jacky Marshall, Zack Carr, Carolyn — the talent was endless. I was really fortunate to experience it and build friendships that were lifelong.

I’m curious if you remember your first impressions of Carolyn. How did you two connect?

We were quite friendly immediately, and then we became the best of friends. We lived in the same building, so the rest was history. You know, she’s an incredible person, and she had great style. She was bigger than life.

Carolyn has been regarded as a fashion icon, and especially now, everyone is trying to re–create her look. There was something more subtle and interesting going on than just “minimalist” fashion, so how would you describe what made her style so special?

Carolyn was so authentic in so many ways, and I think that she was very pragmatic about her choices. She had a great eye. She knew what worked for her, and she knew how to present herself. She never wanted to be uncomfortable. She was very connected to herself. I think so many people have this relationship to fashion and what they think they should look like based on the ideas they see in a magazine or being sold to you by the industry, and Carolyn never fell into that trap.

I have this conversation often with young designers, with people, with journalists. Today, everything that we see is inauthentic. Celebrities are paid to wear designer clothes. They’re styled by a stylist, and nothing is innate. That is the opposite of Carolyn. She was 100% real.

Narciso Rodriguez in 1997.

(Paolo Roversi)

We have to talk about her wedding dress. If you’re a bride, it’s impossible to look for inspiration without coming across her dress. What was it like to have a friend ask you to create something for such a special, important moment?

You know, until my children were born, Carolyn was the love of my life. We were very close, and she asked me, as you said, to make the dress that she would marry the love of her life in. It was very personal for me. It wasn’t a press event, it was a conversation between two people who were very close. I knew what looked good on her, she knew what looked good on her. I knew that she would never want to be bogged down with trains and lace. It wouldn’t be her.

What was the actual design process like?

It was an effortless collaboration. She came to fittings in Paris, we pulled the neckline down a bit lower, and the dress was born. I added the gloves, the veil and the shoe. It was just magical, and exactly the way it should be. It really made her the focus. You know, she was the one who pointed that out to me about my work. She always said, “You create a frame for a woman’s beauty and personality to shine through.” I’ve always thought that was a really beautiful thing that she gave me, because it’s true. I never want my work to be what you see first. I think the success of that dress is that you see her and her happiness and the purity of it all.

Everything about the wedding, including the dress, had to be kept a secret. Was it a challenge to make sure that no one knew what you were working on?

I was working in Paris, and I got approval from the owner of [Cerruti]. He was discreet about it. I worked with one pattern maker. I had a fit model who was lovely. Nobody knew who it was for. They always asked. But because I was working in Paris, they didn’t really connect me to her. I was also quite cautious when the dress was in work, I remember I had become quite friendly with Azzedine Alaïa. I asked, “Can I take this dress over to you and have you check it out to see what I’m doing?” I went over and he looked at the prototype, and said, “Why don’t you move this seam over the bum by a centimeter. I think it’ll be more flattering.” And I did, because he was the master, and he tortured me to know who it was for, but I never told him. Later, when it was all over the press, he would call and pretend he was a fancy lady looking for a wedding dress for her daughter. [Laughs] He tricked me a few times into believing some of his gags, but he was an amazing person.

It was just a magical time in all of our lives. And then I flew to America with the dress and went to the wedding, and it was that simple. You know, I’ve heard all these amazing stories about how the dress didn’t fit, and I had to sew her into it, and that she was hours late because of it, and none of this is true. But I love that people have made up all these stories.

Maybe the dress on her seems so effortless that people want to invent a way to complicate it.

[Laughs] I really have heard so many crazy stories, but when you look at the pictures, it certainly doesn’t look like it didn’t fit. That’s for sure.

As you mentioned, the dress was all over the press later. How did that moment impact your career?

Well, I went from Paris to my best friend’s wedding, and then I flew home to New York to do a pit stop at my apartment. When I arrived, there was a huge crowd outside the building with news trucks. I kind of walked through the crowd and into the building, and I said to the doorman, “What’s all that about?” And he looked at me, and he said, “They’re here to see you.”

Oh, wow.

It was a very big, kind of scary, unexpected change in my life. I remember going up to my apartment and trying to navigate that when Anna Wintour’s office called and said, “Anna would like for you to come to the Princess [Diana] benefit in Washington.” And I said I couldn’t go, I needed to be back in Paris, I didn’t even have a white shirt. And they said, “It’s Princess Di and Anna Wintour. You’re going. We’ll send you a shirt.” So I went, and I met Princess Diana, and it was really strange to be at such a big event and have so many eyes on me, because I didn’t expect that, and everyone was curious. I remember they were shady journalists trying to sit next to me and get information about where [John and Carolyn] went on their honeymoon. Life changed dramatically, but it brought great attention to the work that I was doing in Paris, and I was able to then go off and start my own business and do my own thing.

I’m sure you had an understanding through Carolyn about what it felt like to be hounded or followed by photographers and press, but did that firsthand experience in New York give you another layer of understanding for what she was going through?

It’s so funny because society today will do anything for that. But it was a very different time, and she was a very private person. I was a very private person. It’s very invasive, and I was kind of stuck in the middle, because while I needed to promote my work and my shows, and sort of be in the press, it wasn’t something that I was very comfortable with. I mean, I love doing the work more than I like the things attached to it. It can be debilitating, and it was difficult for me, but I adjusted, because I could hide behind my work, but as a private citizen, it was more difficult for her.

Narciso Rodriguez.

(Sølve Sundsbø)

You’ve been a part of fashion history on numerous occasions. Michelle Obama frequently wore your designs, but most famously, on election night in 2008, and then during her final appearance as first lady. How does it feel to have been a part of those moments?

It’s hard to put into words. You know, you spend so much time in it, and you have these amazing moments, like designing a dress that became legendary for brides, or getting to dress the first lady, and it wasn’t until COVID that I took a step back. I think about my mother and father coming here to give their son a chance to live out his dreams. And to have been able to sit with my friends on election night and watch her appear in my dress on such a historic moment — the first African American elected president of the United States — words fail. [Michelle Obama] is such an incredible human being who I admire so much, and to have been a part of that night, I feel so lucky.

I don’t talk about my work with my children, but the other day, when they were on the bus headed to school, they told one of their friends, “My dad went to the Obama White House.” They were proud of me. My parents’ dreams came true, and now I get to share that with my children. It’s very special.

It’s really powerful to hear you frame it that way — that these moments mean so much because of your experience being the child of immigrants. How does it feel to be in the midst of a revival right now?

It makes me want to create more. It means a lot to me that people remember these pieces, and that they’re still part of the conversation. But it also means a really great deal to me because I think it’s an important story to tell today. I think it’s important that young people hear that this kind of thing can happen to the children of immigrants, especially as I’m watching all of the horrible things happening to immigrants now.

I could never do what my parents did. When I think about it now, my parents were so much more successful than I could ever be, because they left behind their home for a cold climate, in a place where they couldn’t speak the language, and they really struggled for a long time before I was born. And now, the idea that we’re trying to take that opportunity away from people? It just blows my mind.

My parents faced so many hardships, their life wasn’t easy, but I can’t imagine if they had been put through what immigrants are put through today. I am the “American Dream,” right? I got the chance I got to do the work that I love and succeed because of them. I want that for everyone. I want that to be the world we live in.

Imelda Marcos’ fetish for fiendishly expensive shoes was a running gag in the 1980s. But did you know that she was also something of a disco queen?

The image of a jet-setting Marcos in her Beltrami pumps boogieing with arms dealers at fashionable New York nightspots is one of the inspirations of David Byrne’s musical about the notorious former first lady of the Philippines, who sang on the campaign trail for her husband, Ferdinand E. Marcos, and ruled with an iron fist alongside him after he declared martial law and plunged his nation into a brutal dictatorship.

“Here Lies Love,” which is having its Los Angeles premiere at the Mark Taper Forum, traces the political power couple’s rise and fall through a series of dance cuts that capture the irrational hold charismatic leaders can have on a public — at least while the music is blasting.

Byrne, the ingenious Talking Heads co-founder, conceived the show and wrote the music and lyrics. Fatboy Slim, a Grammy Award-winning DJ, musician and record producer, contributed to the music. The score, a mix of lush disco and synth pop with hints of island breezes and karaoke camp, brings a club-like energy to the stage.

Aura Mayari and the company of “Here Lies Love” at the Mark Taper Forum.

(Jeff Lorch)

I first saw “Here Lies Love” at New York’s Public Theater in 2013, when the production, directed by Alex Timbers, was staged as an immersive dance party. Audience members moved along a shifting dance floor as the love story between Imelda, a beauty queen from the provinces, and Ferdinand, an ambitious senator accustomed to getting what he wants, sourly played out amid the backdrop of a traumatic national story.

This sung-through musical pulled off something of a coup of its own. As Ferdinand, now president and philandering husband, and Imelda, his embittered wife dripping in compensatory luxury, shore up their “conjugal dictatorship,” theatergoers discovered that, while partying to the seductive beat, a political dystopia was solidifying around them.

Imagine if, in “Evita,” audience members were invited to sing back up on the balcony as Eva Perón belts out “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina,” accompanying her in her last manipulative hurrah. “Here Lies Love” seemed to want its audience to leave with an aftertaste of cognitive dissonance.

Audiences don’t usually like being duped. But voters need to be continually reminded that when they go to bed with a strongman, they’ll likely wake up without healthcare or voting rights.

“Here Lies Love” at the Taper doesn’t follow the Public Theater’s staging or the similarly immersive Broadway production by Timbers that followed in 2023. It’s a more straightforward presentation that keeps audience members in their seats, except for a moment when uprising is in the air and a few theatergoers are conscripted to join the ecstatic rebellion.

Jeff Lorenz Garrido, from left, Joshua Dela Cruz, and Garrick Goce Macatangay in “Here Lies Love” at the Mark Taper Forum.

(Jeff Lorch)

Snehal Desai’s direction is politically clear-eyed and scrupulous. Corruption, authoritarianism and censorship, as we’re learning firsthand, scandal after constitutional scandal, are no laughing matter. The question is whether “Here Lies Love” can bear the scrutiny of a more traditional musical.

There’s not a traditional libretto, so the story is transmitted mostly through song lyrics. But stump speeches, rallying cries and the theatrical guidance of Imeldific (Aura Mayari, alum of Season 15 of “RuPaul’s Drag Race”) help flesh out the chronicle.

This emcee figure, a Taper innovation, replaces the DJ role of previous productions and establishes the show’s metatheatrical frame. The opening number, “American Troglodyte,” underscores the American imperial role in the story and provides Imdeldific with a satiric banner that doesn’t let a smiling superpower off the hook.

William Carlos Angulo’s choreography is unfailingly kinetic, but participating in a party is more energizing than watching one at a remove. Yet the political case of Ferdinand and Imelda Marcos, a tale of celebrity and tyranny marching in lockstep, speaks so directly to our own time that I found myself gripped by the object lesson of this public saga, even if it’s not always easy to connect all the fragments, never mind distinguish between hard fact and fictional license.

I was particularly fascinated by the portrayal of Imelda (Reanne Acasio), whose political character seems to be shaped by personal disappointments and run-of-the-mill humiliations. Imelda is wounded not only by the philandering of Ferdinand (Chris Renfro) but by an even more painful injury inflicted by her first love, Ninoy Aquino (Joshua Dela Cruz), a politician determined to become the voice of his people.

Ninoy recognizes an essential incompatibility between them. Imelda lives for love while he has political work to do. He bids her adieu in the song “Opposite Attraction,” though fate will bring them together after Imelda and her husband gain power and Ninoy, as the leading opposition figure, becomes their prisoner and eventual victim of the chaos unleashed by their regime.

Joan Almedilla and the company of “Here Lies Love” at the Mark Taper Forum.

(Jeff Lorch)

Unfolding under the theatrical auspices of Imeldific, “Here Lies Love” retells the history of the Marcos years as a musical pageant. Imelda’s transformation, from shy, lowly country girl to “Iron Butterfly,” covering up her shame with jewelry from Tiffany and revealing a will every bit as hard as the diamonds she flaunts, is presented with music so catchy and compulsive that it has the force of historical inevitability

The grooves supplied by Byrne and Slim take not just the characters but the audience on a ride through a brutal anti-democratic period. Does the disco spectacle aesthetic treat this history too lightly?

The production seems wary of this criticism. A program note from dramaturg Ely Sonny Orquiza, attuned to the sensitivities of the large Filipino diaspora in Los Angeles, notes that the production, “featuring an all-Filipino cast and majority-AAPI creative team, is not intended as a definitive or comprehensive history, but as an entry point for dialogue and inquiry.”

The scale of damage perpetrated by the regime is still being collectively processed. One victim, Estrella Cumpas (Carol Angeli), makes the mistake of confronting Imelda, a childhood friend, and is taken into custody. She will have to stand in for thousands of others.

The design scheme certainly doesn’t want to spoil anyone’s good time. Arnel Sancianco’s sets, Marcella Barbeau’s lighting and the more glittering of Jaymee Ngernwichit’s costumes seem to place us in a retro Euro-style disco world, where fun is typically a function of the strength of the cocktails consumed.

But there’s a countermovement in the show, the People Power Revolution that gains momentum after the assassination of Nimoy. The funeral speech of his mother (Joan Almedilla) is turned into the galvanizing protest song, “Just Ask the Flowers,” in which something as basic as maternal love wakes the country to the madness around them. Desai, whose directorial work at the Taper thus far has brought together rave and rebellion, smoothly merges the Dionysian frenzy of the music with the nonviolent revolution that ended Ferdinand Marcos’ protracted dictatorship in 1986.

Dela Cruz’s stirring Ninoy standing tall against the patriarchal savagery of Renfro’s Ferdinand and the petty vindictiveness of Acasio’s well-drawn Imelda is a powerful call to action. Byrne and Slim’s score insists that not even death can stop the beat of this democratic spirit.

The production points out at the end that another Marcos, Ferdinand “Bongbong” Marcos Jr., Ferdinand and Imelda’s son, is now president. Perhaps the show’s final number can shed light: “God draws straight, but with crooked lines.”