Brett Ratner’s Melania Trump documentary offers fashion, forced smiles and absolutely nothing else
By Dana Barbuto/Boston Movie News
After slogging through the trainwreck that is “Melania,” my friend and I couldn’t stop joking about how the only documentary on Mrs. Trump worth watching would be a livestream of Michelle Obama reacting to this mess in real time. Her commentary would turn this disaster into something you’d actually want to see.
We caught the film Sunday afternoon at AMC Braintree. Didn’t pay a cent. I’d forgotten the passes, and my friend insisted we go back rather than contribute a dime to Bezos or any of the other Bozos behind this project. After carefully choosing which pickup truck to park next to, we rolled into the 58-seat auditorium and found ourselves surrounded by a full house of middle-aged couples who laughed on cue at the MAGA catnip—especially the cheap shots at Biden or Trump showing off his power. We grabbed two seats in the back to cringe, sigh and roll our eyes as needed—the only way to survive this ordeal. At least the people-watching was solid.
The documentary trails Melania over 20 days leading up to the 2025 inauguration. That’s pretty much three weeks of dress fittings and party planning, all narrated by Melania herself in a self-satisfying voice-over that starts, “Everyone wants to know, so here it is.” Spoiler: nobody learns a thing, unless you count discovering that white and gold are her go-to colors.
Brett Ratner is behind the camera—the same guy from “Rush Hour” and “X-Men: The Last Stand,” plus the six sexual misconduct allegations. “Melania” is his big comeback after #MeToo exile, and it doubles as a glossy sidekick to her memoir (which the film can’t stop flashing at you). Amazon MGM Studios, owned by Jeff Bezos, reportedly outbid Disney and dropped $40 million on this thing, with $28 million going straight to Melania and another $35 million on marketing. The most expensive documentary ever, “Melania,” is nothing but a deep-throated suck-up to the White House for political favors. Trump himself is listed as an executive producer. The background is sprinkled with drifting glimpses of Elon Musk, Mark Zuckerberg, Tim Cook, and even a quick shot of Kristi Noem’s unfiltered face. Surprisingly, the film pulled in $7 million this past opening weekend, outperforming expectations—the kind of result you get when the audience arrives pre-sold.
Honestly, a peek into the first lady’s private gilded cage might actually be fascinating. Like, what happens after she and her husband awkwardly say goodnight and head to separate bedrooms? But Ratner isn’t allowed anywhere near stuff like that. Instead, we get staged nothingness: Melania cooing “Hi, Mr. President” on the phone in some sort of weird flirty voice, or staring at L.A. wildfires on Fox News, alone, as if she’s willing herself to cry. The guardrails are ironclad, so Ratner stitches together what amounts to a highlight reel of FLOTUS getting in and out of black SUVs. He’s so obsessed with filming the back of her head, you start wondering if those perfect waves are hair extensions or just a really great wig. The film’s other obsession? Melania’s footwear.
Ratner’s camera drools over her python-skin Christian Louboutin pumps and glossy black Manolos. She’s a former model, and her mother was a designer in Slovenia, so the fashion fixation tracks. But you learn absolutely nothing besides the fact that the pointed tip of her shoe must touch the floor, she loves hats, structured silhouettes, and $2,000 heels. (Her shoe budget could probably fix a few school lunch programs.) A real tour of her closet would’ve been interesting, which probably explains why we don’t get one. Maybe they’re saving that for the upcoming three-part docuseries, which, yes, is coming to Prime Video later this year.
Occasionally, Ratner makes a half-hearted grab for relatability. In one clumsy attempt, he asks Melania who her favorite singer is. She says Michael Jackson. “Billie Jean” plays, and that’s not the weirdest song here. She’s asked to sing along and fumbles the lyrics. The film then cuts directly to Melania solemnly discussing the well-being of the world’s children with Queen Rania of Jordan. Given the child-sex abuse allegations that have long surrounded the King of Pop, it’s a sequencing choice so tone-deaf it undercuts whatever point the film thinks it’s making.
With her fake eyelashes, blindingly white teeth, and a fresh coat of lip gloss in every scene, Melania never looks or feels like a real person. Her husband treats her like a prop. She spouts platitudes about how we should all be nice to each other because we’re “bound by the same humanity.” Yeah—tell that to the families of Alex Pretti and Renee Good. By the time the credits roll, “Melania” has revealed nothing about its subject. Not even her shoe size. (Google says size 10).
‘Melania’
Rating: PG for some thematic elements
Director: Brett Ratner
Running time: 104 minutes
Where to watch: In theaters
Grade: F
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