The documentary titled "Melania" has been described as an extravagant, yet ultimately disappointing take on its subject, leaving much to be desired. My personal viewing experience is set for a Friday lunchtime at a cinema located in a retail park on the outskirts of Bristol. This theater seems to have been meticulously prepared for a special event, echoing the anticipation from a recent screening at the White House where notable figures like Mike Tyson, Queen Rania of Jordan, and even Donald Trump were in attendance. However, today, it’s just me and the film.
As the opening credits roll, the atmosphere feels warm and welcoming, but that comfort quickly dissipates as the film progresses into a tedious exploration of Melania Trump’s meticulous preparations for her husband’s second presidential inauguration. The pacing is painfully slow, with Melania, who serves as both the star and executive producer, guiding us through a series of mundane tasks: from choosing outfits to setting tables, and planning a glamorous candlelit dinner followed by a ball under the stars. Her expressions are stiff, and her voice lacks warmth. "Candlelight, black tie, and my creative vision," she lists, reminiscent of a witch concocting a spell. With a saccharine tone, she claims, "As First Lady, children will always remain my priority," almost inviting us to envision her nurturing them in a whimsical gingerbread house.
There is undoubtedly a compelling narrative waiting to be told about Melania Knauss, the ambitious Slovenian model who became the wife of a New York real estate tycoon and found herself in a role likened to that of Eva Braun. Yet, the documentary "Melania" fails to capture this complexity. Instead, it stands out as an exceptionally rare film featuring no redeeming qualities whatsoever. It's difficult to classify it strictly as a documentary; it feels more like an elaborate display meant to impress and distract, akin to a lavish piece of designer taxidermy that is both chilling and excessively priced, created to appease a powerful figure.
As the film unfolds, Melania moves through various scenes like a detached robot, continuously speaking yet offering little of substance. We see her transition from Mar-a-Lago to Trump Tower and finally to the White House. The narrative's tension appears to revolve around her anxiety over the fit of her white blouse, which she feels is too loose, causing distress among those responsible for her attire. She expresses nostalgia for her mother, mentions her affection for Michael Jackson and her son Barron, and perhaps even hints at a fondness for her husband. However, Trump himself remains largely in the background, making sporadic appearances to tout his electoral victory and grumble about how his inauguration coincides with college football playoffs: "They probably did it on purpose," he remarks.
The viewing experience becomes disheartening, lacking depth and insight. The film can be seen as a superficial remake of Jonathan Glazer's thought-provoking work, "The Zone of Interest," where a seemingly carefree Cinderella distracts us with shiny objects while her husband and his associates engage in dismantling constitutional foundations and misappropriating federal resources. One of Melania's aides compliments her choice of colors, saying, "White and gold—that’s so you," as she fusses over the ball's color scheme, to which she agrees.
Without giving too much away, the film concludes with a note of relief as Trump’s second inauguration proceeds smoothly, despite the unfortunate overlap with the college football game and the minor issue with Melania's blouse. Though the preparations are taxing, the joy of the occasion carries her through to the starlight ball, where she momentarily dances to the Village People’s "YMCA." "Staying awake for 22 hours felt effortless," she exclaims, which is nice for her, but the excitement fails to resonate, and the guests seem unbearable. Ultimately, two hours spent watching Melania feels like an interminable ordeal.
