Midway through Priscilla (2023), I had a revelation that I’m unsure if anyone shares. Jacob Elordi may be the best depiction of Elvis Presley that I have seen in cinema. There have probably been more faithful, but I can’t deny that there was some charisma in every moment. Part of it was the way he towered over Priscilla, played by Cailee Spaeny. To see them walk through a Las Vegas casino is to witness this magic. From afar, they look like the coolest couple in the world. However, the height difference also allows you to notice how distant they are even within a close grip. It’s a masterstroke of Sofia Coppola’s interpretation and one that I think plays well into the film.
As much as I’m willing to hear criticism around accuracy or whether this is a hit piece on Elvis, I think the suggestion that Coppola is actively making him an outright, mustache-twirling villain feels unfair. He may be irrational and manipulative, but there is ultimately a love for Elvis that cannot be ignored. Some of my favorite scenes of the year feature Elordi standing around in his Graceland house with his friends cracking jokes or firing pistols in the backyard. This is a level of intimacy I don’t think any adaptation has really explored. Whereas people like Baz Luhrmann are enamored mostly with “the product,” I think Coppola wants to understand “the human.” Much like her previous films Lost in Translation (2003) or Somewhere (2010), she is cognizant of women’s relationships with celebrity. She is curious to understand that divide, and nowhere is that clearer than Priscilla. Even as we get some fun hangout scenes of Elvis bulldozing an old house, there’s a sense of familiarity that makes you think that, yes, Elvis is just a good old boy and will take care of his friends (and maybe his wife).
It may be why the moments that ultimately resonated with me are the few moments where suddenly we witness Elvis and Priscilla in a state of intimacy. Because of Coppola’s unbiased photography, these moments feel romantic and even sensual. As they lay in bed, they take pictures and crack jokes. Time passes them by and yet this moment is so fleeting that you come to cherish it. Being in the throes of passion is something that is so absent from long stretches of the film that they kick like a sugar rush.
Even as the mythos devolves, I couldn’t help but think that maybe Elvis and Priscilla were each in overdemanding relationships. The tragedy is that Elvis was chained to the unseen manager Tom Parker, who wheels him off to shoot B-Grade musicals. As we see him complain about bad scripts, there is a sense that his own dreams are falling apart. He wanted to be a Marlon Brando or James Dean type. Instead, he’s singing hacky covers. I know that Priscilla ultimately vilifies his behavior, but I maintain that Parker’s treatment of Elvis creates something just as toxic and entrapping to an artist who is stuck in a perpetual crisis of unfulfillment. Together, they are a couple who are noticing the pitfalls of an industry in real time. There is no way out. Elvis will always be Elvis. It’s the struggle with being an icon.
I start with Elvis less because Priscilla doesn’t factor into her own story, but because Coppola’s view of the relationship is more complicated than a simple “groomer” saga. Yes, a lot of the details are problematic and it does feel like Priscilla is being taken advantage of. However, I think the greater intent is to understand how suffocating the fantasy is once the veil has been pulled back. Elvis may appear happy and joking with his friends, but I’m convinced he’s being worn down, forced to put on a smile to appease his masters. He is a prop – and maybe the biggest one that Coppola has ever explored. Whereas she’s explored other actors in compromising positions, Elvis’ future sounds downright miserable.
Priscilla’s story is theoretically more conventional but the essential lynchpin to this deconstructionist drama. By the time she enters the narrative, Elvis has a lot going for him. He has an adoring fan base and several hit records. His reputation precedes him. When Priscilla gets invited to his house for an evening of raucous partying, it’s easy to see why she’s infatuated. He sits playing the piano, able to catch a falling glass midway through a melody. She is young, naïve, and unable to focus in school. In older cinema, this would be the character so infatuated with a band that they make it their whole personality. In this case, she defies her parents and becomes his wife. What starts as a whirlwind affair slowly falls apart because of Elvis’ need to be seen as an eligible bachelor.
Because of this, she is forced to stay indoors at Graceland. The fans looking in from the gates aren’t allowed to see her happily playing with the dog. She is given a new hairstyle, told what color clothes she can wear, and even offered a handgun for protection. Slowly Priscilla’s individuality fades away in order to fit Elvis’ vision of himself. Provided anything happens publicly, this will be what the tabloid prints. Priscilla doesn't need individuality. She needs to be like the groupies, fawning over a man whose glory days faded long before the third act. Instead, she is a prop. Unlike Elvis, she is a prop whose independence is nonexistent, shackled to a husband who’s reduced to dancing for coins.
Because of the artificiality, she is not allowed to grow as a person during her pivotal years. As the initial intimacy fades, we see Elvis less and less. His charm hasn’t changed, and yet it grows more toxic. They’re stuck in a stasis, reflecting a marriage that hasn’t been allowed to challenge itself. Even as Priscilla is going into labor, she is forced to apply fake eyelashes to create the perfect image of a housewife. For Elvis and his fans, this lie is The American Dream. It just so happens to be one where he can get away to destress, but she is stuck in an empty mansion, wandering the empty rooms and trying to feel like there’s any life to take from them.
Coppola’s use of these spaces is filmed brilliantly. I’m especially drawn to how she uses windows in the interior shots. During earlier scenes, the visible windows are closer to the center of the screen. At times they even distort the actors on screen with brightness. However, there’s something enthralling with how they slowly become further away. There are few moments where the lights are complementary, but more often than not they present a division forming between characters. By the final divorce, the dual panel windows are across from each other, unable to fill up the otherwise dark frame.
It helps to symbolize a sense of being trapped “behind glass,” as if they’re each animals in a zoo for others to gawk at. In theory, the mansion should be the most awe-inspiring place, but it’s so lacking pomp that the inanimate nature overwhelms. There’s no emotion in a fuzzy carpet after months of waiting at home while Elvis may potentially be having an affair with Ann Margaret. The dog was bought as a distraction and, as previously mentioned, can’t even be walked on the property. She is in her own cage, desperate for a connection from those not allowed to touch the animals. The windows may be transparent, but they’re also a barrier that can’t be removed.
Priscilla as a character may not have a lot to offer in a conventional sense, but her interiority is what Coppola does best. As someone who revels in silence, she is comfortable allowing the aches of time to play their cruel tricks. Even as things become interminable, she is able to keep the viewer captivated, creating an Elvis-adjacent film that feels more indebted to Chantal Akerman than Baz Luhrmann. We’re left to interpret every action and whether the very movement is going to matter at all. Priscilla is trapped and isn’t allowed to tour the world. Who can she even turn to? It’s why the ending, even in its simplicity, is so beautiful and perfect.
Many members of Presley’s family have had differing opinions of Coppola’s take. Lisa Marie Presley argues that it’s unreflective of her relationship to her father. Meanwhile, Priscilla argued that it felt more honest and that she didn’t want anybody else making this story. It makes sense because there is still compassion and a string of love that runs throughout Priscilla, but it slowly moves away from being about the love of the human and more to the idea of what Elvis was supposed to be. As his reputation decays, it’s hard to admire fantasy. Priscilla looks on, wondering why she’s left behind, becoming the worst type of wife: the victim of a victim.
I don’t wish to suggest that what Elvis did in the film was right and there are definitely some complications that aren’t being fully discussed. However, I think that Coppola is more describing a marriage that became loveless because of a lack of communication. There is a fantasy that cannot be achieved because their focus isn’t on the same things. Elvis pops pills to keep moving. Priscilla pops pills to feel alive. Sometimes she wonders why she even tries. Even then, Coppola gives us enough moments where the mythos is attractive, where you want to throw yourself onto Elvis and have him protect you. That’s when the height difference seems less menacing. Elsewhere, it just is a reminder of how much higher his cultural stature is. Who knows, maybe he’d even be able to jump over the walls of Graceland while Priscilla is grounded in heels.
Among the many women that Coppola has explored, I think that Priscilla is one of the best that she’s crafted. While it’s easy to imagine this type of story getting trapped in a fabled predictability, it covers a unique perspective that many have faced but rarely in such a way. It may be an empty film, but in that time she allows us to think about what it means to love someone who is potentially abusive. She also asks where that behavior could come from and how, because of Parker, it’s systemic. Coppola is so nonjudgmental that I feel strange about buying into the love when it is there, finding some of the best chemistry of 2023 so far. Part of me knows it’s fake and won’t last, and yet I want it to. I want Elvis to be the man who makes me happy. Instead, like his career, he’s a letdown. Nobody knew that better than Priscilla. It’s a difficult movie but a necessary one that continues Coppola’s stance as one of the essential filmmakers of the 21st century. It may not tell the story Elvis many want, but it gives us permission to wonder what lies behind the bright lights of Vegas. Is there anything there at all? By the end, I don’t know that Coppola knows, but that may just be the good times clouding judgment.
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