Melania Review: A Gilded Trash Remake That Misses the Mark
In a sparse cinema on the outskirts of Bristol, an exclusive audience of one settles in for a Friday lunchtime screening of Melania, the contentious documentary backed by Amazon MGM Studios. The film, which previewed at the White House with guests like Mike Tyson and Queen Rania of Jordan, now plays to an empty room, setting a tone of eerie isolation that permeates the entire experience. This mood of cosy conviviality quickly dissipates as the credits roll, replaced by a chilling, novocaine-like numbness that defines this dispiriting portrayal of the former first lady.
A Listless Automaton on Screen
Melania Trump moves through the documentary like a listless automaton, her face clenched like a fist and her voice cold as sheet metal. The film meticulously documents her preparations for her husband's second presidential inauguration, from fashion fittings to table settings, yet it reveals nothing of substance. She glides through events such as the "candlelit dinner" and "starlight ball," uttering lines like "Candlelight and black tie and my creative vision" with robotic detachment. When she coos, "As first lady, children will always remain my priority," it feels hollow, evoking imagery more akin to a fairy-tale villain than a public figure.
Missed Opportunities and Unrevealing Drama
There is undoubtedly a compelling documentary to be made about Melania Knauss, the ambitious model from Slovenia who married a New York real-estate mogul and found herself in a controversial political role. However, Melania fails to capture this potential, instead offering an elaborate piece of designer taxidermy—ice-cold and overpriced. The drama hinges on trivialities, such as Melania's concern over a loose white blouse that needs tightening, while deeper themes are ignored. She mentions missing her mother and loving Michael Jackson and her son Barron, but these moments feel superficial amidst the film's glacial pace.
Donald Trump appears as a background presence, shuffling in to brag about his election win and complain about his inauguration clashing with college football playoffs. "They probably did it on purpose," he remarks, adding a layer of paranoia that goes unexplored. The film's comparison to Jonathan Glazer's The Zone of Interest as a "gilded trash remake" is apt; it distracts with gold baubles and designer dresses while the real political machinations remain obscured.
A Spectacularly Unrevealing Conclusion
Despite the film's focus on trivial conflicts, Trump's second inauguration proceeds smoothly, with Melania boogying to the Village People's YMCA at the starlight ball. She gushes, "Being awake for 22-hours felt like nothing," but this euphoria fails to translate to the audience. The guests are portrayed as nightmares, and the overall experience feels like an endless hell. Melania is dispiriting, deadly, and spectacularly unrevealing, lacking any redeeming qualities that might salvage it from being a forgettable cinematic endeavour.
In summary, this documentary serves as a cautionary tale about missed opportunities in political filmmaking, offering style over substance and leaving viewers cold and unengaged.
