Long ago, in a different world, I edited a magazine called InStyle Weddings, which showcased the nuptial celebrations of the rich and famous. Melania Knauss Trump graced the cover of our spring 2005 issue, in her wedding gown, next to the headline “Behind the Scenes at the Trump Wedding.”
My boss at the time had attended Donald and Melania’s January 2005 knot-tying at Mar-a-Lago, as an invited guest, alongside other Manhattan media machers, plus politicians, movie stars, famous athletes and… Jeffrey Epstein. The Trump Organization furnished the quotes for our article, and also approved all the photos. That the occasion was a precisely orchestrated publicity event as much as a wedding bothered no one, certainly not us or our readers, many thousands of whom snapped up the issue off the newsstand.
Flash forward 20 years and Mrs. Trump needs no magazine publisher to collaborate with. Operating on a much grander scale, she stars in Melania: 20 Days to History, a documentary about the lead-up to last year’s presidential inauguration.
Reviews have been excoriating. In the New York Times, columnist Maureen Dowd labeled the film an “infomercial.” The Atlantic called it “a disgrace.” Variety’s reviewer bashed it for being “orchestrated and airbrushed and stage-managed.” Sounding a grotesque note, the Guardian proclaimed it “a gilded trash remake of The Zone of Interest,” referencing the movie about the family of the commander of Auschwitz who resided next to the death camp.
Seemingly no critics concede that Melania: 20 Days to History is actually quite fascinating. It resembles an extended Instagram reel, gorgeously photographed and appealingly scored. With the help of movie director Brett Ratner (banished from Hollywood after six actresses accused him of predatory sexual behavior), Mrs. Trump is doing the social-media thing, except in movie theaters. She’s curating life, showing her preferred self to the world. Every frame is a choice, and thus every frame is revelatory, full of clues – intentional or otherwise – to who she is. Future historians may well consider it an intriguing artifact of our time.
Of course, the documentary is propagandistic. And yes, Amazon backed it to the tune of $75 million for calculated commercial reasons, not artistic or journalistic ones. Still, by producing this movie, the First Lady is not merely cashing in. She’s declaring that for this, her second go-round as presidential spouse, she will exert tighter control of the narrative, lay down some markers for her place in history, and, maybe, even enjoy herself a little. (Not that she’s the happy-go-lucky type – quite the opposite.) Robust early ticket sales – the film grossed $7 million in its opening weekend – suggest that, just like InStyle magazine readers of old, a fair number of Americans will pay to see the First Lady as she wishes to be seen. With these results, a proposed follow-up, a docu-series on Prime, is a virtual certainty.
So, what do we learn from Melania, the movie? Of paramount importance to Mrs. Trump is her appearance. She wears a full face of makeup in every shot, her hair always silkily blown out. Her Slovenian heritage is never mentioned by name, but it’s crystal clear: brought up in a foreign culture, the First Lady is immune to the American urge, shared even (or especially) by billionaires, to appear “relatable.” She’s allergic to the notion of showing herself off duty, playing sports or simply kicking back in yoga pants, hair in a high pony. Her clothes are her armor.
Her crusade is to project dignity and strength – while maintaining distance from all who gaze upon her.
Trump term #1 clearly reinforced this instinct. For the inauguration in 2017, Mrs. Trump wore a soft 1960s-style powder-blue dress (very Jackie Kennedy) and no hat, while in 2025 she was in a severe navy coat and wide-brimmed boater, which hid the top half of her face. Mrs. Trump’s fittings for this outfit, and the close attention she’s shown paying to tiny details, is one interesting scene in a movie that is thin on content, long on atmospherics. In Melania: 20 Days to History there’s no end of getting in and out of black SUVs, flying on private jets, and ascending skyscrapers via the freight elevator for security’s sake. Mrs. Trump spends much of her time doing this (wearing sunglasses indoors and out) and clearly believes it’s the height of glamour. Lucky for her, director Ratner is good with the romance of motorcades and the drama of flight. And there are so many close-ups of the First Lady’s feet, shod always in gorgeous high heels, this could be a Quentin Tarantino project.
The First Lady’s favorite person in the world clearly is her son, Barron. She speaks of him with great pride, and defers to his wishes. (Not so her husband, but that’s another, more complex matter.) Her parents, Viktor and Amalija, were given their own room in the White House during the first term, and now she mourns that her father will live there alone, Amalija having died in January 2024. Her daughter feels this loss keenly, and mentions Amalija’s taste, self-discipline, and devotion to family at several points in the documentary. (Is her mother Melania’s model in all things? One suspects yes.) On the evening of the first anniversary of her mother’s death, Mrs. Trump goes to St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York City to light a candle. It’s a strange scene, although beautifully shot – the soaring interior of the cathedral has never looked better. But Mrs. Trump is pictured standing alone, impassive, in front of the altar, neither genuflecting nor making the sign of the cross. The imperative to maintain dignity and composure, and betray no emotion, rules even in that setting.
The First Lady does not appear overly fond of her stepchildren, especially Ivanka Trump. And can you blame her? Ivanka sharp-elbowed her way into primacy among the Trump women in the first term as a special advisor to her father. For round two, she has decamped to Miami with husband Jared Kushner, and her step-mother takes revenge of a sort: There are only two fleeting glimpses of Ivanka in this movie. President Trump, however, appears regularly. He’s the fond, amused spouse, held slightly at an arm’s length. He praises his wife, teases her, seems eager for her approval, and, always, seems genuinely appreciative of the cool grace and studied elegance she brings to the role of First Lady. And well he might, given the tawdry way he has behaved on innumerable occasions. Of course, even Queen Elizabeth wondered at the nature of the relationship between the Trumps. To what degree is it transactional? Melania will never tell.
Knowing touches abound in the soundtrack. When the Trumps are flying from Florida to Washington for the inauguration, Tears for Fears sing “Everyone Wants to Rule the World.” Ratner obviously struggled to capture moments of spontaneity. In one of the few, Mrs. Trump is dancing briefly to the Village People’s “YMCA” – in a far more appealing way than her husband has ever managed.
Despise Melania: 20 Days to History along with all the rest of Trumpian effluvia if you like. Yet in truth the film is not contemptible, only strange – the portrait of a person who opts to remain opaque even as she’s ostensibly giving you a glimpse of her world.
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