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Now streaming: MELANIA (2026)
At heart, she’s a standoffish, nattily clad, exorbitantly-paid luxury event-planner: think Jackie Kennedy plus four inches and a Lugosian twang.
Inauguration Day. The second coming. (Headwear design: Sergio Aragonés)
Melania (2026) Brett Ratner / Cinematographers: Dante Spinotti & Jeff Cronenweth (2.35 : 1) / Producers: Melania Trump & Brett Ratner / Composer: Tony Neiman /Editor: Alex Márquez / With: Joe Biden, Kamala Harris, Hervé Pierre, First Lady Brigitte Macron, Barron Trump, Sean M. Curran, First Lady Melania Trump, and John Barron / USA / Amazon MGM Studios / Rated PG / 104 mins.
Something’s not right here. Shouldn't the title of this great documentary — some might say the greatest documentary ever made — be DONALD JOHN TRUMP’S MELANIA? (Knauss? Knever!) Were it not for Him, your devilishly dour First Lady would still be hand-rolling Filter 57s in the small cigarette factory in the southeastern region of Slovenia where He found her. How dare the film's title deny us her married name, the name on everyone’s lips, the name of the greatest husband, father, president and man who ever lived! There's gratitude for ya.
Video:
Trailer: MELANIA
With this film, the third Mrs. Trump wishes to recreate for the huddled masses her journey from private lady to First Lady. We are given an all-access pass to see exactly how she spent the 20 days leading up to the inauguration. Struggling to hack her way through the voice-over narration, America’s solipsistic sweetheart contemplates important affairs of state: things like how wide a lapel is, or whether she should go with or without a turtleneck. At heart, she’s a standoffish, nattily clad, exorbitantly paid luxury event-planner: think Jackie Kennedy plus four inches and a Lugosian twang.
The First Clothes Horse brags about taking a wrecking ball to the Rose Garden, and agrees with the idea that that an Easter egg roll would be a great way to reintroduce her fatuous #BeBest initiative to America. (Who knew it was ever quashed in the first place?) She boasts about redesigning the White House bowling alley. What? No cigarette burns on the bar or spray cans of shoe disinfectant to add authenticity? I'll happily bet that the project was the closest she had ever come to a bowling alley in her life. I rolled many a night at Chicago’s Timber Lanes, and not once was a hot number such as she parked at the far end of the bar, nursing a long neck bottle of Old Style and working through pack of Marlboro reds. She's First Lady Barbie, a woman with far too much time on her hands — as evidenced by footage of her playing dress up while offscreen and in real time, her husband teeters on the precipice of unleashing global mass destruction. (His presence looms over every frame, but it isn’t until the 26-minute mark that your Mango Messiah first comes into view, eager to match his wife scowl for scowl.)
Colder than a meat locker filled with Kubricks, Melania Trump comes off as a human upright Amana fridge clad in fuck-me pumps. But truth be told, she smiles more during these 104 minutes than she has at all the social events where she’s been forced to play First Lady combined. (Small wonder: she's always checking her lines on any highly reflective surface she encounters.) Who better than a narcissistic hot goddammit to affect sunglasses at night? Or transform the funeral service for President Carter into a moment about her?
And who is the director fortunate enough to pick up a fat paycheck for kowtowing to the First Lady’s every whim, and what were his qualifications? Here’s a hint: what common thread links Matt Gaetz, Pete Hegseth, Rudy Giuliani, Robert F. Kennedy Jr., Elon Musk, Corey Lewandowski, and Linda McMahon, to name but a few? All these president's men (and woman) have been a part of Donald Trump’s public and private domain, and all have faced allegations of various forms of sexual harassment and/or assault. Given that context, it seems hardly surprising that this is the first film Ratner has found work on in the nearly ten years since accusations of sexual misconduct made him a poster boy for the #MeToo movement.
His is a sucker’s game made even easier through the aid of two, count ‘em, two of the finest cinematographers money can buy: Dante Spinotti (Manhunter, The Comfort of Strangers, L.A. Confidential) and Jeff Cronenweth (Fight Club, One Hour Photo, Gone Girl). Spinotti’s unerringly glossy, yet hollow collaborations with Michael Mann made him the perfect choice to chronicle the polar sovereign.
But just as you're ready to despair of finding any feeling onscreen, as if out of nowhere, a whisper of pathos wafts through. It's 2 am, after Donald has been officially sworn in as your 47th president, and the Trumps arrive back at the White House. His brief excursion to the bedroom is underscored by Irving Berlin’s melancholic "What'll I Do." What’ll he do? What’ll we do?
According to SlashFilm, Melania raked in $16.7 million against a $75 million price tag. Trump was last seen in front of AMC Georgetown handing out free pairs of tickets — and Florsheims.
Here's something you might be interested in.
Now streaming: MELANIA (2026)
At heart, she’s a standoffish, nattily clad, exorbitantly-paid luxury event-planner: think Jackie Kennedy plus four inches and a Lugosian twang.
Now streaming: MELANIA (2026)
At heart, she’s a standoffish, nattily clad, exorbitantly-paid luxury event-planner: think Jackie Kennedy plus four inches and a Lugosian twang.
Inauguration Day. The second coming. (Headwear design: Sergio Aragonés)
Melania (2026) Brett Ratner / Cinematographers: Dante Spinotti & Jeff Cronenweth (2.35 : 1) / Producers: Melania Trump & Brett Ratner / Composer: Tony Neiman /Editor: Alex Márquez / With: Joe Biden, Kamala Harris, Hervé Pierre, First Lady Brigitte Macron, Barron Trump, Sean M. Curran, First Lady Melania Trump, and John Barron / USA / Amazon MGM Studios / Rated PG / 104 mins.
Something’s not right here. Shouldn't the title of this great documentary — some might say the greatest documentary ever made — be DONALD JOHN TRUMP’S MELANIA? (Knauss? Knever!) Were it not for Him, your devilishly dour First Lady would still be hand-rolling Filter 57s in the small cigarette factory in the southeastern region of Slovenia where He found her. How dare the film's title deny us her married name, the name on everyone’s lips, the name of the greatest husband, father, president and man who ever lived! There's gratitude for ya.
Video:
Trailer: MELANIA
With this film, the third Mrs. Trump wishes to recreate for the huddled masses her journey from private lady to First Lady. We are given an all-access pass to see exactly how she spent the 20 days leading up to the inauguration. Struggling to hack her way through the voice-over narration, America’s solipsistic sweetheart contemplates important affairs of state: things like how wide a lapel is, or whether she should go with or without a turtleneck. At heart, she’s a standoffish, nattily clad, exorbitantly paid luxury event-planner: think Jackie Kennedy plus four inches and a Lugosian twang.
The First Clothes Horse brags about taking a wrecking ball to the Rose Garden, and agrees with the idea that that an Easter egg roll would be a great way to reintroduce her fatuous #BeBest initiative to America. (Who knew it was ever quashed in the first place?) She boasts about redesigning the White House bowling alley. What? No cigarette burns on the bar or spray cans of shoe disinfectant to add authenticity? I'll happily bet that the project was the closest she had ever come to a bowling alley in her life. I rolled many a night at Chicago’s Timber Lanes, and not once was a hot number such as she parked at the far end of the bar, nursing a long neck bottle of Old Style and working through pack of Marlboro reds. She's First Lady Barbie, a woman with far too much time on her hands — as evidenced by footage of her playing dress up while offscreen and in real time, her husband teeters on the precipice of unleashing global mass destruction. (His presence looms over every frame, but it isn’t until the 26-minute mark that your Mango Messiah first comes into view, eager to match his wife scowl for scowl.)
Colder than a meat locker filled with Kubricks, Melania Trump comes off as a human upright Amana fridge clad in fuck-me pumps. But truth be told, she smiles more during these 104 minutes than she has at all the social events where she’s been forced to play First Lady combined. (Small wonder: she's always checking her lines on any highly reflective surface she encounters.) Who better than a narcissistic hot goddammit to affect sunglasses at night? Or transform the funeral service for President Carter into a moment about her?
And who is the director fortunate enough to pick up a fat paycheck for kowtowing to the First Lady’s every whim, and what were his qualifications? Here’s a hint: what common thread links Matt Gaetz, Pete Hegseth, Rudy Giuliani, Robert F. Kennedy Jr., Elon Musk, Corey Lewandowski, and Linda McMahon, to name but a few? All these president's men (and woman) have been a part of Donald Trump’s public and private domain, and all have faced allegations of various forms of sexual harassment and/or assault. Given that context, it seems hardly surprising that this is the first film Ratner has found work on in the nearly ten years since accusations of sexual misconduct made him a poster boy for the #MeToo movement.
His is a sucker’s game made even easier through the aid of two, count ‘em, two of the finest cinematographers money can buy: Dante Spinotti (Manhunter, The Comfort of Strangers, L.A. Confidential) and Jeff Cronenweth (Fight Club, One Hour Photo, Gone Girl). Spinotti’s unerringly glossy, yet hollow collaborations with Michael Mann made him the perfect choice to chronicle the polar sovereign.
But just as you're ready to despair of finding any feeling onscreen, as if out of nowhere, a whisper of pathos wafts through. It's 2 am, after Donald has been officially sworn in as your 47th president, and the Trumps arrive back at the White House. His brief excursion to the bedroom is underscored by Irving Berlin’s melancholic "What'll I Do." What’ll he do? What’ll we do?
According to SlashFilm, Melania raked in $16.7 million against a $75 million price tag. Trump was last seen in front of AMC Georgetown handing out free pairs of tickets — and Florsheims.