Melania is shambolic, putrid, pitiful garbage: A brazen, awkward, irredeemable infomercial that ignores truth and scrutiny in favour of performative humility. It’s not just wretched – it’s offensive to the collective intelligence of the human race.
Reviewing Brett Ratner’s shallow, vulgar pseudo-documentary Melania is arguably a lost cause. It’s horrendous, and anyone who hasn’t sold their soul to the cult of Trumpism knows it’s awful without watching it. The mere prospect of giving it publicity, even in a scathing review like this, is a problematic quagmire. However, media like this, that is so unashamedly propagandistic, needs to be called out for what it is, if not for personal gratification, then for the public record. And Melania is as shameless as they come. The only comfort is knowing it’s playing to universally empty screenings here in the UK.
Scholars and critics can’t help but think of German filmmaker Leni Riefenstahl when they contemplate Melania. One of the most controversial figures in film history, she was commissioned by Hitler to make propaganda films for Nazi Germany during the 1930s. Her most infamous film, Triumph of the Will, is also disgraceful; an endless 2-hour reel of marches and speeches that would be eye-rolling were it not in the service of an evil regime. However, there’s no denying its technical prowess – namely in how it utilised cinematography and editing to capture spectacle. To a 1930s German, frustrated by years of national and economic hardship, the film may have struck a chord.
Melania, which documents the activities of US First Lady Melania Trump in the 20 days leading up to her husband, Donald Trump’s, second presidential inauguration, boasts no such artistic skill or resonance. One is hard-pressed even to label it a documentary. In various sequences where Melania greets her staff, converses with an off-screen Ratner, or pontificates hollow drivel via clunky voiceovers, the scenes are so obviously staged that they may as well have left the cue cards in frame. Even mundane exchanges are heavy with awkwardness. During a church visit, Melania talks with the priests, her stilted smile and repetitive words being about as authentic and professional as a primary school play.
Let’s put politics aside for a moment – there is potential in the concept here. The story of an immigrant coming to America and rising in stature to become the First Lady is, out of context, a curious one. One could say it’s the American Dream in a nutshell. But Melania has no interest in actually dissecting this, or even getting to know its titular figure in any meaningful way. It’s more concerned with lionising her, without making any case for why she should be, beyond repeatedly saying she should.
Documentaries about individuals are created to add humanity to a public figure or their life story. Melania, if anything, makes the First Lady seem less human. Her voiceovers are so meandering that she often says variations of the same sentiment three or four times in a row. Her expression barely changes from scene to scene, save for the faux politeness during the clearly staged greetings. She constantly mentions how proud she is of her son, Barron, yet his perspective is never sought. There’s no attempt to showcase archival footage or stories from her childhood, except for one insight she offers about her mother being a fashion designer. Melania comes across less like a human and more like a broken automaton in high heels.
The scenes in which Donald appears are even more callous; all he does is brag about his “numbers” and whine about trivial matters, such as a football game clashing with his inauguration, never once asking his wife how her day went. Not even propaganda can hide his weakness of character.
Director Brett Ratner – who is accused of sexual misconduct by various people – makes no effort to understand the woman behind the public image. The film evokes a sense of cynical pointlessness because it doesn’t ask Melania any complex or substantial questions. How does life in America differ from her time in Slovenia as a child? How has her mother’s unfortunate passing influenced her worldview beyond just being sad? What are her feelings about being an immigrant in America, when her husband rose to power by demonising, detaining, and threatening other immigrants? What does she actually think about any of this?
It’s hard not to scoff at the gross hypocrisy, either. Melania explains that defending children is her top priority. Yet her husband’s alleged business and personal dealings with Epstein continue to haunt his presidency. She talks about respecting grief, yet makes Jimmy Carter’s funeral all about herself. Melania praises the importance of American law and history, yet shows no remorse for the January 6 insurrection or her husband’s volatile behaviour leading up to it. She claims to value humility, yet spends the picture lavishing in grotesque riches, while surrounding herself with sycophants like a dolled-up Bond villain.
The puke-inducing performativeness may have been easier to stomach if it weren’t so ineptly made. In between the stock footage of plane rides and convoys – centred around a narrative utterly lacking in conflict – the camera wanders between Melania and the people she interacts with, hanging around like an unwilling accomplice, too timid to make its own feelings known. Ratner endeavours to capture the grandeur of the Trump lifestyle, yet has the opposite effect of making the avaricious wealth appear disgusting and sinister. One moment, in which Melania descends a Trump Tower staircase in a new dress, could be swapped with Norma Desmond at the end of Sunset Boulevard, and the feelings of disturbing delusion would be roughly the same.
Like Triumph of the Will, the context of release is just as important to recognise. Trump’s presidency is so rife with scandal and incompetence that he has to weaponise distraction techniques to avoid accountability. This documentary is merely another distraction, flagrantly trying to manifest a blatant lie of peace and moral decency into reality. That its release coincides with the murder of US citizens at the hands of ICE in Minnesota, and from the continued stalled releases of the Epstein Files, all while scamming devout Trump followers out of more money, makes this film about as morally bankrupt as it gets. The fact that Melania retained almost exclusive control over the craft only makes its vile intentions more apparent.
Melania is shambolic, putrid, pitiful garbage: A brazen, awkward, irredeemable infomercial that ignores truth and scrutiny in favour of performative humility. It’s not just wretched – it’s offensive to the collective intelligence of the human race. That it glosses over her husband’s chaotic, volatile, and morally corrupt administration for a quick buck makes it one of the most abominable works of propaganda ever produced. Just like how Donald Trump will likely go down as the worst president in American history, Melania’s faux documentary is the worst film of recent memory.
Melania is now showing in cinemas nationwide.
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