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The Atlantic: Melania Is a Horror Movie
MELANIA IS A HORROR MOVIEThe first lady is trapped, and she doesn’t seem to know it.
JANUARY 31, 2026
When I saw it in theaters today in Washington, D.C., I was hoping to find a few avid Melania-heads in attendance, perhaps dressed as Cursed Red Trees or wearing her I Really Don’t Care, Do U? jacket in homage to her trip to the U.S.-Mexico border. But when I sat down with my commemorative black-and-white Melania popcorn bucket—on which a business-suited Melania stares impassively from a white chair—the audience was … almost entirely journalists, with maybe three exceptions.
This film, directed by Brett Ratner (yes, the one accused of sexual misconduct by multiple women), follows Melania’s preparations for Inauguration Day: her outfit, the decorations, some vague gestures toward her various initiatives as first lady. It involves many moments that are intended to be compelling, or mournful, or romantic, which you can tell because the soundtrack so aggressively telegraphs what to feel at every possible moment. First out of the gate: “Gimme Shelter”! Then comes “Billie Jean”—not once, but twice (Melania’s favorite, she reveals). Then we get a snippet of “The Thieving Magpie,” which plays as the Trumps escort the Bidens to their departing helicopter; I can’t hear “The Thieving Magpie” without recalling A Clockwork Orange. Is any of this on purpose?
...
The film alternates between Aggressive Songs to Tell You What Emotion to Have and halting, bland narration from the first lady describing her feelings and initiatives. Some of the most bleakly funny moments are when Melania recollects her personal triumphs in the White House: She redid the Rose Garden (now paved over). She fixed up the bowling alley. An end-credits note mentions her efforts in support of a bill to prevent the creation of nonconsensual AI nudes—and we all grok how well efforts are going on that front.
Think of all the good things in life: meaningful conversations, shared laughter, petting a dog, reading a book, casual interactions with someone who is neither an employee nor a family member—the kind of things people are willing to pour into the streets to protect. They are all absent from Melania. In their place: Fittings! More fittings! Pomp! Private jets! Expensively attired billionaires being served—I am not making this up—golden eggs. Donald Trump and Melania Trump, waltzing to “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.”
This film, directed by Brett Ratner (yes, the one accused of sexual misconduct by multiple women), follows Melania’s preparations for Inauguration Day: her outfit, the decorations, some vague gestures toward her various initiatives as first lady. It involves many moments that are intended to be compelling, or mournful, or romantic, which you can tell because the soundtrack so aggressively telegraphs what to feel at every possible moment. First out of the gate: “Gimme Shelter”! Then comes “Billie Jean”—not once, but twice (Melania’s favorite, she reveals). Then we get a snippet of “The Thieving Magpie,” which plays as the Trumps escort the Bidens to their departing helicopter; I can’t hear “The Thieving Magpie” without recalling A Clockwork Orange. Is any of this on purpose?
...
The film alternates between Aggressive Songs to Tell You What Emotion to Have and halting, bland narration from the first lady describing her feelings and initiatives. Some of the most bleakly funny moments are when Melania recollects her personal triumphs in the White House: She redid the Rose Garden (now paved over). She fixed up the bowling alley. An end-credits note mentions her efforts in support of a bill to prevent the creation of nonconsensual AI nudes—and we all grok how well efforts are going on that front.
Think of all the good things in life: meaningful conversations, shared laughter, petting a dog, reading a book, casual interactions with someone who is neither an employee nor a family member—the kind of things people are willing to pour into the streets to protect. They are all absent from Melania. In their place: Fittings! More fittings! Pomp! Private jets! Expensively attired billionaires being served—I am not making this up—golden eggs. Donald Trump and Melania Trump, waltzing to “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.”
https://www.theatlantic.com/newsletters/2026/01/melania-trump-documentary-horror-movie/685843/
Archive link: https://archive.ph/sGpXa
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