Despite a great many pre-release jokes about empty auditoriums, the new documentary Melania actually performed decently at the box office, as these things go. The purported all-access ride-along with Melania Trump in preparation for President Donald Trump’s second inauguration was probably not worth the reported $75 million that Amazon MGM spent on it, outbidding offers from other companies like Disney and Paramount. The film will not turn a profit, and $28 million of that purchase price goes directly to the first lady, but it wasn’t the full belly flop many were expecting, at least from a financial point of view. But as a work of art—or even an effective piece of persuasive propaganda? Well, that’s another story.

This peculiar project devotes a great deal of its running time bearing witness to Melania Trump trying on clothing, approving invitations, and clomping around in high-heeled boots as she is escorted to and from the 66th floor of Trump Tower to the soundtrack of decades-old radio hits like The Rolling Stones’ “Gimme Shelter” and Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean.” At the AMC multiplex I went to in Freehold, New Jersey, the demographic skewed older and, perhaps not surprisingly when you think about it, female. So if the hope was that Melania would offer style tips for a certain kind of aspirational viewer, I suppose it was a success.

Despite a great many pre-release jokes about empty auditoriums, the new documentary Melania actually performed decently at the box office, as these things go. The purported all-access ride-along with Melania Trump in preparation for President Donald Trump’s second inauguration was probably not worth the reported $75 million that Amazon MGM spent on it, outbidding offers from other companies like Disney and Paramount. The film will not turn a profit, and $28 million of that purchase price goes directly to the first lady, but it wasn’t the full belly flop many were expecting, at least from a financial point of view. But as a work of art—or even an effective piece of persuasive propaganda? Well, that’s another story.

This peculiar project devotes a great deal of its running time bearing witness to Melania Trump trying on clothing, approving invitations, and clomping around in high-heeled boots as she is escorted to and from the 66th floor of Trump Tower to the soundtrack of decades-old radio hits like The Rolling Stones’ “Gimme Shelter” and Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean.” At the AMC multiplex I went to in Freehold, New Jersey, the demographic skewed older and, perhaps not surprisingly when you think about it, female. So if the hope was that Melania would offer style tips for a certain kind of aspirational viewer, I suppose it was a success.

For director Brett Ratner, Melania is a comeback bid. It’s his first film to hit theaters in over 11 years. Though hardly a cinephile’s favorite, many of his projects—like Rush Hour, Rush Hour 2, and Rush Hour 3—were hits. In 2017, six women, including actresses Olivia Munn and Natasha Henstridge, accused the director of sexual harassment and abuse, halting his output and that of his very successful company, RatPac Entertainment (an iteration of which joined forces with Dune Entertainment, founded by Steven Mnuchin, who would later serve as Donald Trump’s first secretary of the Treasury). Despite the extra baggage, Ratner was selected by Trump and her advisor Marc Beckman; the project did not originate with him.

And what is this film, anyway? Many have made jokey comparisons between Ratner’s unabashed propaganda piece and Hitler’s favorite filmmaker, Leni Riefenstahl—behold Exhibit A, Exhibit B, and Exhibit C. And though the part in Melania in which Ratner’s camera surveys Trump’s whole sick crew at the second inauguration does share commonalities with Triumph of the Will (at least for putting faces to names from headlines), it may not be the best comparison. What struck me, at least while watching with an audience of applauding faithful, was how this movie is nothing more than fan service for the zealous insider, even if everyone else will be bored to tears once the novelty of Mrs. Trump’s monotone voiceover delivery wears off.

I was reminded, in a very strange way, of Peter Jackson’s recent project about The Beatles. The Beatles: Get Back (which I love, by the way) is a 468-minute “you are there” experience. On the face of it, much of Jackson’s film is repetitive archival footage of a bunch of guys in a recording studio tooling around with their instruments. Of course, this leads to some of the most marvelous pop and rock music ever recorded, with magical sparks of inspiration where you least expect it. But I could understand if someone who isn’t a Beatles fan came away shrugging.

Try as it might, Melania has absolutely no forward momentum, no real plot. We watch as this stern-looking woman is escorted in quiet isolation through secret garages and private planes. She consults her fashion advisors, shuts down St. Patrick’s Cathedral to light a candle, meets with potential new hires, and boasts about social initiatives with Queen Rania of Jordan and the first lady of France, Brigitte Macron. (Do a shot every time you hear the phrase “Be best” and you may soon pass out.)

On occasion, it is indirectly interesting. There’s the brash use of music cues (the snarky “Thieving Magpie Overture” played over a shot of President Joe Biden and Vice President Kamala Harris), and the look of complete disinterest from the Trumps’ teenage son, Barron, who mumbles only one word before dodging the cameras. There’s also a glimpse at the behind-the-scenes protocol of positioning very important people before they walk out to the official presidential swearing-in ceremony, a moment that will seem familiar to anyone who has appeared in a high school play. But mostly this movie is a whole lot of nothing. Ratner’s crew captures no interiority from the first lady, no humanity, nothing that doesn’t feel hit with a fat red stamp reading “approved.”

The movie seems to think that just being in this woman’s presence will be enough—and perhaps for some it is. Despite her automaton-like demeanor and refusal to give an unrehearsed or even human-like gesture (very much the opposite of her husband’s style, for what it’s worth) Ratner’s film is only effective in securing Melania Trump’s placement as a product. The big finish—in which the movie juxtaposes her official portrait with those of Eleanor Roosevelt, Mamie Eisenhower, and Jacqueline Kennedy—may cause many to slap their foreheads, but one shouldn’t pretend that her human coffee table book persona isn’t landing with some people.

Jackie Kennedy gets a direct shout-out in Melania, when the Trumps return to the White House after a busy night making appearances at several inaugural balls. (Cue Melania Trump making a few nervous dance moves to The Village People’s “Y.M.C.A.” and Ratner weirdly needle-dropping Giorgio Moroder’s “Chase,” a song from the soundtrack to Midnight Express, a drama about prison abuse.) The returning president is mumbling to Ratner about how special the place is, and points to a painting on the wall. “Look at this. Claude Monet. Presented by Jackie, in honor of John Kennedy,” he says, before concluding, “See you guys tomorrow,” and heading off to bed.

Trump has previously compared his Slovenian-born wife, a former model who is 24 years his junior, to Jackie Kennedy. Indeed, no first lady holds command of the collective imagination like she does. She has been played by an Oscar-winning actress; inspired some of Andy Warhol’s most celebrated artworks; and is the subject of numerous plays, and an opera. Her clothing style inspired rock songs.

The desire to produce Melania may have sprung, even indirectly, from Jackie Kennedy’s televised hour-long tour of the White House in 1962. (Though made with CBS News correspondent Charles Collingwood, the program actually aired on all three networks.) While the emphasis then was to show recent changes made to the people’s house, it was effective in further cementing the elegant, well-heeled woman as a style icon and picture of poise. (The Kennedy television special, which was syndicated across the globe—even to China and the Soviet Union—was directed by Franklin J. Schaffner, who would later make Planet of the Apes.)

The film was a sensation, begetting a tie-in book and likely inspiring several similar films from other celebrated women like Princess Grace, Sophia Loren, and Elizabeth Taylor.

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Once Melania leaves theaters and comes to Amazon Prime, it’s possible a wisenheimer or two will edit pieces of both films together. If the person has an art background, they may even find themselves exhibited at a major museum not far from those Warhol paintings. That level of appreciation might be the only thing that could gratify both sides of the aisle.