The truth about Christopher

Madonna's brother, an icon in his own right.

They called him the Pope. Fitting, really, because if the pointy-hat guy in the Vatican is God’s representative on earth, then truly Christopher Ciccone, who has died aged 63, was the spiritual avatar of almost every gay man who worshipped his sister Madonna.

It’s easy to dismiss relatives of superstars as hangers-on and also-rans but Chris more than earned his place in Madonna-lore and beyond. I wouldn’t dream of making assumptions about the relationship between the two siblings, but from the outside, as an impressionable observer throughout my childhood, there was the feeling of a modern fairy-tale way more complex than Madonna’s much-documented rags to riches story. Madonna arrived in New York in 1978 clutching only a handful of dollars, Chris following not long after and, together, they lived out their dream. The plucky, hungry wannabe (complimentary) and her artistic gay baby brother – the stuff of fantasies. Christopher Ciccone was a lot more than a bangle on his sister’s wrist, however; he was a twin engine.

I imagine Christopher had this expression often throughout the years.

It’s often glossed over in the retelling, but Madonna and Chris must’ve felt a great deal of responsibility for each other. Making it big was not optional, it was compulsory; they perhaps felt they had to prove to their father they weren’t wasting their lives in a city of debauchery. Did having her brother by her side give Madonna extra confidence and determination? He was certainly a large presence in her early career. My first sighting of him would've been ‘Lucky Star’ where, along with Erica Belle, he plays backup dancer to his sister in the song’s lo-fi, minimalist video. Appropriately, Chris and Erica melt into the background – you can’t take your eyes off Madonna – but would her performance be so mesmerising without both of them there, framing her against that ice-white background? Probably not. I didn't know who he was at that point; this was long before the internet bombarded us with information. Smash Hits, my teenage bible, would eventually inform me that the boy in the video was Madonna’s brother. Madonna mythology at that time presented her as a kind of fugitive from her restrictive family, a lone wolf, an outsider – it was astonishing to discover she hadn’t quite severed ties.

Christopher was much more than a backup dancer, and his talent for design was greatly admired by his famous sister, and influenced her work and her personal taste. As well as being a creative lead on two of her most famous tours, Blond Ambition and The Girlie Show, he designed her New York apartment. Clearly, a keen eye for detail and perfectionism ran in the family.

In Madonna’s 1991 documentary Truth or Dare, Chris featured more prominently in the spotlight. Watching their relationship play out as Madonna toured the world was fascinating to me. I grew up without brothers or sisters – they would come later, once I left home – and even though I didn't know it yet, I was gay like Christopher. There was a sense of intimacy, faith, and loyalty between them that I may not have experienced, but immediately understood. It was quite brave of Madonna, in a way, to embrace having someone alongside her who knew everything about her, all the family secrets, a man who saw beneath the glamorous veneer. Doubtless it was a comfort at times, but it was also a risk when she was very careful carving out a new persona for herself, morphing from big sister into a megastar. Braver still of Christopher to blur those lines and work for, and with, his sister, setting aside family pressures to deliver iconic artistry that would influence hundreds of stars who would follow. As unpolished as the behind the scenes footage appeared, we’ll never know the true dynamic between Madonna and Christopher, but it was obvious she trusted him implicitly, and respected his vision. In her tribute on Instagram, she speaks of his ‘impeccable taste’ and seeking his approval for creative decisions. People you can trust act as searchlights, rooting out flaws and bad actors. Madonna, a self-confessed control freak, needed an extra pair of eyes who had her back but would tell it to her straight – it makes perfect sense that those eyes would belong to another Ciccone.

Quattro Ciccone: Madonna and Christopher backstage at Blond Ambition talking to their father and stepmother.

I’m sure many gay kids watched Truth or Dare and dreamed they could be as free and joyful as the dancers, partying with Madonna, playing games, and gossiping. But for me, and just as many others too I bet, the connection between Christopher and Madonna was the ultimate goal. Their conversation when Madonna is under threat of arrest for the infamous ‘Like A Virgin’ fondling scene, Christopher describing gently, yet almost breathlessly, what his sister would not be allowed to do on stage, has an energy different from the rest of the film. You get the sense this is not their first scrape, and he knows exactly what she’ll say before she’s said it. Their reactions are so natural, that of all the intimate moments in the film, and as playful as it is, it almost feels intrusive. You can imagine them speaking in the same way in the corner of parties in the pre-fame days, or whispering at the dinner table as children. As Madonna reiterates to her manager Freddy that she has no intention of changing her show, Christopher is right behind her, brushing and smoothing out her iconic ponytail, and as she heads to the stage, there’s the slightest touch on the small of her back to send her on her way, to remind her he’s there. Anybody could be Madonna’s best friend, really, and she wasn’t short of brothers, but there was room for only one Christopher.

Some people enjoy the idea of off-camera friction, imagining costars loathing each other somehow enhances their experience of the finished product. Behind-the-scenes spats dull the magic a little for me; I suppose I don’t like to imagine those who make my favourite art had a bad time making it. When Madonna and Christopher fell out in the noughties, my heart ached a little for those siblings conspiring backstage in 1990. It’s not unusual for the relationship between a gay man and his best gal pal to fall apart once a man becomes involved – I’ve been quite lucky to hang onto so many over the years – but it must’ve cut even deeper to lose a sister. Madonna’s second marriage shouldn’t shoulder all the blame, there were fissures emerging long before it – he was visibly unimpressed even in Truth Or Dare when Madonna was filmed at her mother’s graveside, for example – but it seemed to be the final straw.

When, in 2008, Chris released an autobiography called Life With My Sister Madonna, I was so disappointed. Not that he’d done it – he had every right to tell his story – but that there was surely no way back for either of them, a terrible shame given all they’d meant to each other. Madonna may not be the most private person in the world, her eagerness to provoke the bewildered stare of the public made her such a game-changer, but she’s always been determined to control the narrative. Now she could not, I was certain the betrayal would keep Madonna and Chris apart for ever. Call it a futile, parasocial bond if you like, but I really wanted them to work it out, if only so one day they could sit down and celebrate their crazy and masterful creative heyday.

They spoke about each other with caution over the following years, but it seems I got my wish. ‘I do believe in forgiveness,’ said Madonna on the Jonathan Ross show in 2015, after confirming the two were back on speaking term after years of silence. ‘I think he feels bad that he did it, so hopefully it’ll all be all right in the end.’

The end came way too early. Chris once said, ‘I was born my mother’s son, but I will die my sister’s brother.’ Christopher died of cancer on 4 October, aged 63, and Madonna was where she belonged, back in his heart.

Her tribute to him is humble and beautiful, a dizzying montage of two intertwined lives, living it to the full. Give it a read if you have time.

Thank you, Christopher.

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