Sofia Coppola remains one of our great living filmmakers because she understands that if one seeks to learn from history, they must also seek to demythologize it. It’s why her biographical films, from the raucously modern Marie Antoinette to the more straightforwardly candid The Bling Ring, provide new insight into female stories previously thought to be one-sided. Even her fictional stories, from The Virgin Suicides to The Beguiled, are so vivid and complex that they feel real. Critics have previously criticized Coppola for being morally ambiguous about these women, some of whom have committed heinous acts, but that’s a feature of her filmmaking, not a bug. Any time a female gaze is given to a woman’s story, you’re bound to glean a more complicated but honest insight about who they were, or even still are.
That previous ambiguity has never felt more precise than in Priscilla, her latest film and one of her most visually and tonally accomplished. The story, an account of the tumultuous marriage between rock legend Elvis Presley and his wife Priscilla Presley but staunchly from the latter’s point of view, immediately does away with the glitz and glamor of previous portrayals. Through muted color tones and star Cailee Spaeny’s small stature, Coppola presents Priscilla for what she was: a lonely child. When she’s invited to a party at the Presley residence in the film’s first lines of dialogue, it immediately feels wrong. When she attends the party, there’s a glaring sense that she shouldn’t be there.
And yet, there’s more to her. Priscilla is unassuming but not unaware, pretty but not ditzy, a burgeoning young woman with an inescapable air of innocence. It’s a balance expertly portrayed by Spaeny who, collaborating with Coppola, immediately presents a character with agency but only within the context of the world she is about to enter. And that’s when we meet the King himself, portrayed by Jacob Elordi, who is able to mostly escape the hyperactive crowds as a humble army sergeant stationed in Germany, like Priscilla’s father. Without his hunk’a burning love on full display, you almost believe Elvis was merely a homesick little boy with dreams of being a serious actor. Elordi’s balance of awkward vulnerability with slight Memphis gruff immediately entrances you into his inner world, one that Priscilla falls into slowly but surely. Their hormones may be a strong influence, but there are semblances of a genuine connection, one fueled by loneliness and homesickness – another one of the film’s careful tightrope walks.
Once Elvis whisks Priscilla away to Memphis, all bets are off. Though the rocker’s lifestyle immediately appears far more exciting than her lonely life in Germany, it quickly becomes apparent that Priscilla is nothing more to Elvis than another piece of Graceland decor, a piece of his public image and self-esteem that he can manipulate at will. Production designer Tamara Deverell and set decorator Patricia Cuccia present Elvis’ home as monochromatic and spotless, as though you had booked a tour through the still-standing mansion today. Perfectly framed so that she merely exists in the space but never inhabits it, Priscilla is left to merely finish her schoolwork or play with her dog, Honey, one of Elvis’ many gifts. Eventually, it all begins to feel like the world’s cushiest jail cell.
Priscilla longs to spend more time with Elvis – every gentle “I miss you” from Spaeny is more heartbreaking than the last – but even that comes with consequences. Elvis slowly begins to transform Priscilla in his image, insisting on what clothes she wears and how her hair is styled. In submitting to Elvis’ consistent late night debauchery, Elvis slowly gets her addicted to an unruly balance between sleeping pills by night and amphetamines by day. In return, he refuses to consummate their love despite several attempts, evades her worries about Hollywood flings (all of which prove to be true), and even assaults her on occasion. In a bold but decisive characterization inspired by the film’s tell-all source material, Priscilla’s autobiography Elvis and Me, Elvis is depicted as a bipolar disordered, no-holds-barred abuser, a husk of a man exacting pain onto others.
Much of Elvis’ cruel behavior has been an open industry secret, yet Priscilla’s story has yet to have a significant showcase on film. In a world where the sheen of powerful, magnetic men has worn off, Coppola’s film feels all the more vital as a counterpoint to other interpretations. At the risk of beating a dead horse, Baz Luhrmann’s wildly glamorous Elvis covers two-thirds of Coppola’s timeline in less than five minutes. Her entry into the story is presented with thick Hollywood gloss and, though she occasionally reappears throughout the film, her perspective is very much in the sidecar. This isn’t necessarily a dunk on Luhrmann’s approach as he is telling a very different story than Coppola, but therein lies the point. Luhrmann’s extravagant whirlwind through Elvis’ history further sanctifies him without humanizing him. Wouldn’t we rather distill our understanding of icons rather than keep them in progressively cracking amber? Some would not – between Luhrmann’s vision and Coppola’s, only one got slammed by Presley’s estate. Yes, Coppola goes vastly in the opposite direction, but her take is not only a more finely tuned portrait of a deeply hurt man but also one in service of a woman’s coming-of-age.
Admittedly, toward the end, there’s an air that it’s the other way around. The film’s third act rushes through Priscilla’s later years while still married to Elvis, during which she spent time away from Graceland and found some much-needed independence. The film doesn’t even bother exploring Priscilla’s life outside of her marriage, which may feel like a missed opportunity, not to mention a confining one. This woman was more than her marriage, after all. However, Presley’s story is not over yet. Like the photos Priscilla takes of Elvis during one late-night moment of playful intimacy, Priscilla is a snapshot of her life, a case study of a woman and her agency in a marriage from start to literal finish. In that sense, Coppola’s lack of an extended epilogue is fitting. It is a firm closing of the door that forces audiences to reckon with the harsh realities of a couple whom many still consider American royalty. The King is dead, long live the Queen.
Priscilla had its North American premiere as the Centerpiece selection at the 2023 New York Film Festival. The film is set to debut in theaters nationwide on November 3, 2023, courtesy of A24.
Director: Sofia Coppola
Writer: Sofia Coppola
Rated: R
Runtime: 113m
Sofia Coppola's take on the Presley empire is a vital counterpoint to more glamorous interpretations, led by two excellent performances from Cailee Spaeny and Jacob Elordi.
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GVN Rating 8
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Larry Fried is a filmmaker, writer, and podcaster based in New Jersey. He is the host and creator of the podcast “My Favorite Movie is…,” a podcast dedicated to helping filmmakers make somebody’s next favorite movie. He is also the Visual Content Manager for Special Olympics New Jersey, an organization dedicated to competition and training opportunities for athletes with intellectual disabilities across the Garden State.