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| 'MELANIA' Documentary (2026) | AI Visual Artwork The Empress in gold and the King of Silla. |
Power in Heels... Watching America’s First Lady from Seoul
Over the opening weekend of January 30, 2026, the United States released what was heavily promoted as a blockbuster. It wasn’t a Marvel film, yet its marketing scale suggested comparable ambition. On the eve of its release, an official premiere took place at the Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C. The guest list looked more like a political summit than a film event: Donald Trump, now the 47th President, appeared alongside Pam Bondi, Pete Hegseth, Kristi Noem, Robert F. Kennedy Jr., Kash Patel, and others who rarely gather outside moments of peak power.
The film was neither a war epic nor a patriotic spectacle. It was a documentary devoted entirely to the First Lady. Its title was simple, reverent, and unmistakable: *Melania*.
It opened in nearly 1,800 theaters across the country. Critics and reporters, many of whom hadn’t been invited to the advance screening, rushed to theaters the next day. The empty seats they often found became a recurring motif in early reviews. While some screenings drew modest crowds—particularly in certain regions—ordinary moviegoers were sparse overall; the audience felt dominated by professional curiosity rather than genuine excitement.
*Melania* covers roughly twenty days: from Donald Trump’s confirmation as president-elect after a grueling campaign, through inauguration day, and into the morning after. In theory, this tight window offers rare access to power at its most theatrical, a snapshot of Trump’s America in the act of renewal.
"Amazon MGM Studios—backed by Jeff Bezos, who has cozied up to Trump considerably since the election—reportedly paid $40 million for distribution rights and invested another $35 million in marketing, outspending what Disney typically allocates for prestige titles in the same window. The message was clear: this was never intended as a modest documentary. It was a statement."
Upon release, late-night hosts treated it less as cinema than as ready-made satire. Jimmy Kimmel quipped that not since *The Terminator* had a film about a European cyborg generated such anticipation. Jimmy Fallon joked that weekend moviegoers had two choices: the *Melania* documentary or Rachel McAdams’s new comedy *Send Help*—adding that *Send Help* had reportedly once been a working title for this very project. The punchlines were quick, but the implication was sharp.
The film also opened theatrically in South Korea. In Seoul, it screened once nightly at 10:50 p.m. in the smallest auditorium. The theater was nearly empty. One middle-aged man sat a few rows away. No MAGA hat in sight.
From Seoul, the film registers less as provocation than as quiet observation. American media criticism of *Melania* is abundant and requires no amplification here. For Korean viewers, though, it serves as an unintended window into U.S. political culture, its media economy, and the elaborate rituals that surround power. It also delivers a secondary lesson: how aesthetics function at the apex of visibility.
The film opens with an aerial sweep of Mar-a-Lago, Trump’s Florida estate, the pale turquoise Atlantic in the background. The camera then tilts upward from a pair of high heels. The reveal is slow and deliberate: Melania Trump enters the frame, poised and elevated, framed as the presiding figure of the property.
What does one expect from such a documentary? A tender portrait of the first couple? A chronicle of ambition, betrayal, and interlocking networks of politics and capital? A voyeuristic glimpse into elite domestic life? Few come hoping for meditations on democratic values or world peace. Instead, *Melania* presents America as viewed from on high—distant, meticulously curated, and immaculately styled.
After receiving her husband’s victory call, Melania begins preparations to resume her role as First Lady. Fashion takes priority. As a former model, she converses fluently with designers about inaugural wardrobes: multiple outfits for multiple events, heels chosen for both symbolism and silhouette. Preparations extend to the White House itself—new wallpaper, new furniture, the entire residence reconfigured within five hours of the outgoing administration’s departure. Power, the film quietly insists, moves with exacting precision.
The documentary maintains that her role goes beyond appearances. Her past initiatives resurface: advocacy for children’s welfare, calls with Brigitte Macron and Queen Rania of Jordan, a moment of prayer for Israeli hostages held by Hamas. These scenes subtly reaffirm a familiar reality: the position itself confers authority.
Quieter moments are woven in. Melania visits a New York cathedral alone to mourn her father, who passed a year earlier. She conducts staff interviews. She sings along to Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean” in the back of a motorcade. Whether these humanize her or deepen the myth is left deliberately open.
Brett Ratner directs—his first major project since years of Hollywood exile following serious allegations. The irony of his return via a White House-sanctioned portrait is hard to miss.
The soundtrack adds another layer of ambiguity: “Gimme Shelter,” “Billie Jean,” “Everybody Wants to Rule the World,” “It’s a Man’s Man’s Man’s World,” and Ravel’s *Boléro* play in sequence. Together, the choices feel less like homage than sly, unintended commentary.
Familiar faces appear throughout: Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos (whose company bankrolled the endeavor), former presidents Clinton, Bush, Obama, Biden, and Vice President Kamala Harris. Yet the figure who draws the most attention is Barron Trump—towering, composed, greeted with unusual warmth, commanding the frame without saying much.
Donald Trump remains the familiar public figure. Melania, by design, stays partially veiled. The film reveals discipline, loyalty, and calculated restraint, but never fully dispels the enigma. Bezos’s substantial investment may be the documentary’s most telling subtext. *Melania* ultimately offers insight not only into a First Lady, but into the symbolic machinery of Trump’s America—where spectacle is currency, and even crowns demand diamonds.
As a postscript: during his October 2025 visit to South Korea, President Trump received the nation’s highest civilian honor, the Grand Order of Mugunghwa, along with a gilded replica of the Silla dynasty’s Cheonmachong golden crown. Viewed from Seoul, *Melania* makes that gesture feel less like diplomacy than a perfectly symmetrical epilogue. Power, after all, has always cherished its ornaments. (By Jae-hwan Park, Seoul. 2026)
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