‘Priscilla’ Review
There is something to be said about the two most recent high-profile Elvis Presley biopics that neither is framed from the perspective of Presley himself. Baz Luhrmann’s film took a look at the manipulation and control that Colonel Tom Parker had against Elvis, resulting in a muddled film that was stylish and excessive in all the ways Luhrmann excels, but emotionally stilted. It was far more interesting in its choice of perspective than it was interesting to watch. Not to be outdone though, Sofia Coppola’s latest film, Priscilla, also puts Elvis through a different lens by focusing on his ex-wife, Priscilla Presley (played by Cailee Spaeny). While both films find themselves committed to the lifespan of Elvis, Coppola presents a far more dreary and engaging formality that suffocates its characters while still presenting a hopeful romance slowly burning to the end of its wick.
What’s immediately striking about Coppola’s film - based on Priscilla Presley’s memoir “Elvis and Me”, co-written by Sandra Harmon - is she finds a way to present Priscilla’s story without mincing words, yet maintaining an almost dreamlike tone. It’s in the way Spaeny presents Priscilla from her teenage years onward: she’s hopelessly in love with the one man whom the whole world is mesmerized by. However, we rarely see Elvis (Jacob Elordi) outside of his Graceland estate. Coppola’s screenplay briefly interrogates the initial connection between the two lovers before chaining its protagonist to a single location, often seen wandering its vast corridors, away from the public’s eye. A brief scene early on has her just within the gates of the estate before being ushered back into the confines of the house so as not to make a scene. The film makes it glaringly obvious that Graceland for Elvis is a symbol and a refuge; however, for Priscilla, it acts more as a hope and a cage.
And yet, the film still feels romantic at times thanks to Spaeny’s performance and just the way that Coppola’s film seems to distance itself from any meaningful interrogation with the age difference of Priscilla and Elvis when she is a teenager, and the way negative emotions like jealousy fuel the fires of love. That’s not to say the film is without its darkness and that darkness eventually shrouds every moment of Priscilla, but it’s also not a film that seems preoccupied with turning Elvis and Priscilla’s relationship into a symbol of unhappiness. It’s painting in somewhat broad strokes while using their relationship as a jumping-off point to explore power dynamics in a relationship and how it’s very easy to feel trapped in your heartache.
Luhrmann’s film felt like a parasite leeching off its host as The Colonel finds his cash cow and never lets go. Coppola shows the trickle-down effect of someone leeched off of and its ramifications on the partner by his side. Priscilla is portrayed as being controlled, and rarely given attention unless she gives it first. There’s nothing mutual about the relationship because, as Elvis makes clear, he needs a wife, not a partner. That’s the uphill battle Priscilla faces and it results in a claustrophobic, toxic relationship where validation feels distant and the entire relationship itself seems one-sided.
That feeling is amplified by Philippe Le Sourd’s gorgeous photography, capturing a softly lit but encroaching darkness. Interior shots comprise the majority of the film, and despite making the inside of Graceland feel mythic, it’s also careful to keep the walls and ceilings in the frame. It’s a fine line that the entire film is walking as it wants to capture a romance, but it also wants to be an honest and delicately told account of what it means to be married to someone as prolific as Elvis. Phoenix’s score is haunting and ethereal, further sketching a portrait of young love while Coppola’s screenplay puts Priscilla and Elvis within close quarters at all times. Spaeny and Elordi are tremendous as their characters’ relationship is tested throughout and they are forced to meet all the extremes of a partnership.
Priscilla is formally interesting because it doesn’t feel the need to show all of the big moments in Elvis’s career. It’s not about him. It’s kind of about him because of who it is about, but Coppola avoids many pitfalls that other biopics easily succumb to by focusing on Priscilla. However, there’s also a struggle to avoid redundancy, and Priscilla is a movie that figures out itself early on and doesn’t seem to switch into another gear. By its denouement, it seems to be racing to its conclusion. There’s no glitz and glamour to the film’s narrative, but its dedication to tone and feeling is reflected in a very subdued arc.
The reality is that Coppola’s film is more fascinating than engaging. It’s told more delicately and from a perspective where it captures a rawness to Elvis and Priscilla’s relationship more so than the apparent excitement of it. Through Spaeny’s performance of a lover often left alone and forced to trust in her husband’s love, Priscilla has an intoxicating allure to its framing device. It serves as a canvas for captivating performances and a chance for the film's production elements to soar while still feeling wholly unique as it avoids the flashiness of Elvis for the modest glamor of its titular character. While it ultimately feels a bit hollow in what emotions it elicits, Priscilla has an unshakeable immersive quality that still conveys a sentimentality and lovesickness without ever transferring that to the audience.
