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From the Guardian: Melania review - Trump film is a gilded trash remake of The Zone of Interest
https://www.theguardian.com/film/2026/jan/30/melania-review-trump-film-is-a-gilded-trash-remake-of-the-zone-of-interest-snip-
This mood of cosy conviviality extends all the way through the opening credits; at which point the chill descends and the novocaine kicks in, as the film’s star and executive producer proceeds to guide us – with agonising glacial slowness – through the preparations for her husband’s second presidential inauguration. She glides from the fashion fitting to the table setting, and from the “candlelit dinner” to the “starlight ball”, with a face like a fist and a voice of sheet metal. “Candlelight and black tie and my creative vision,” she says, as though listing the ingredients in a cauldron. “As first lady, children will always remain my priority,” she coos, and you can almost picture her coaxing them into her little gingerbread house.
No doubt there is a great documentary to be made about Melania Knauss, the ambitious model from out of Slovenia who married a New York real-estate mogul and then found herself cast in the role of a latter-day Eva Braun, but the horrific Melania emphatically isn’t it. It’s one of those rare, unicorn films that doesn’t have a single redeeming quality. I’m not even sure it qualifies as a documentary, exactly, so much as an elaborate piece of designer taxidermy, horribly overpriced and ice-cold to the touch and proffered like a medieval tribute to placate the greedy king on his throne.
-snip-
It’s dispiriting, it’s deadly and it’s spectacularly unrevealing. Ratner’s film plays like a gilded trash remake of Jonathan Glazer’s The Zone of Interest in which a button-eyed Cinderella points at gold baubles and designer dresses, cunningly distracting us while her husband and his cronies prepare to dismantle the Constitution and asset-strip the federal government. “White and gold – that’s so you,” purrs one of her lickspittles as she busies herself with the colour-scheme for the ball and the incoming first lady allows that yes indeed, this is true.
It’s no spoiler to reveal that phew, thank heavens, Trump’s second inauguration goes swimmingly well in the end. This despite the unfortunate clash with the college football game. This despite the infuriating looseness of the first lady’s white blouse. The preparations are exhausting but the euphoria of the moment sees her through, all the way to the starlight ball where she briefly boogies along to the Village People’s YMCA. “Being awake for 22-hours felt like nothing,” she gushes, which is nice to hear and good for her. But the fun’s not infectious and the guests are a nightmare, and two hours of Melania feels like pure, endless hell.
This mood of cosy conviviality extends all the way through the opening credits; at which point the chill descends and the novocaine kicks in, as the film’s star and executive producer proceeds to guide us – with agonising glacial slowness – through the preparations for her husband’s second presidential inauguration. She glides from the fashion fitting to the table setting, and from the “candlelit dinner” to the “starlight ball”, with a face like a fist and a voice of sheet metal. “Candlelight and black tie and my creative vision,” she says, as though listing the ingredients in a cauldron. “As first lady, children will always remain my priority,” she coos, and you can almost picture her coaxing them into her little gingerbread house.
No doubt there is a great documentary to be made about Melania Knauss, the ambitious model from out of Slovenia who married a New York real-estate mogul and then found herself cast in the role of a latter-day Eva Braun, but the horrific Melania emphatically isn’t it. It’s one of those rare, unicorn films that doesn’t have a single redeeming quality. I’m not even sure it qualifies as a documentary, exactly, so much as an elaborate piece of designer taxidermy, horribly overpriced and ice-cold to the touch and proffered like a medieval tribute to placate the greedy king on his throne.
-snip-
It’s dispiriting, it’s deadly and it’s spectacularly unrevealing. Ratner’s film plays like a gilded trash remake of Jonathan Glazer’s The Zone of Interest in which a button-eyed Cinderella points at gold baubles and designer dresses, cunningly distracting us while her husband and his cronies prepare to dismantle the Constitution and asset-strip the federal government. “White and gold – that’s so you,” purrs one of her lickspittles as she busies herself with the colour-scheme for the ball and the incoming first lady allows that yes indeed, this is true.
It’s no spoiler to reveal that phew, thank heavens, Trump’s second inauguration goes swimmingly well in the end. This despite the unfortunate clash with the college football game. This despite the infuriating looseness of the first lady’s white blouse. The preparations are exhausting but the euphoria of the moment sees her through, all the way to the starlight ball where she briefly boogies along to the Village People’s YMCA. “Being awake for 22-hours felt like nothing,” she gushes, which is nice to hear and good for her. But the fun’s not infectious and the guests are a nightmare, and two hours of Melania feels like pure, endless hell.
Wikipedia page on The Zone of Interest: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Zone_of_Interest_(film)
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