The film promised an unprecedented look into the life of Melania Trump, a “private, unfiltered” journey to the First Lady’s role. But behind the scenes, a different story was unfolding – one of chaos, long hours, and a growing sense of unease among the crew.
Initial projections for “Melania: Twenty Days to History” were far from stellar. Predictions ranged from a modest $1 million to a slightly more optimistic $5 million opening weekend, a stark contrast to the $40 million Amazon paid to secure the film and a planned docuseries. Pre-sale ticket numbers in London were particularly weak, with only 60 sold across eight screenings.
The project’s director, Brett Ratner, already a controversial figure due to past misconduct allegations, added another layer of complexity. Crew members only learned of his involvement shortly before filming began, with some expressing regret they hadn’t declined the job once his name was attached.
Working conditions were described as “highly disorganised and very chaotic.” The First Lady was constantly accompanied by the Secret Service, adding to the pressure. Basic comforts were reportedly lacking; some crew members claimed they weren’t even allowed breaks for meals.
One particularly jarring detail emerged: the director, while expecting the crew to work through hunger, was observed casually eating and licking his fingers in a manner described as “grubby.” This blatant disregard for the team’s well-being fueled resentment.
A significant number of crew members – roughly two-thirds of those working in New York – requested their names be removed from the film’s credits. One individual, reflecting on the first year of the Trump presidency, admitted to wishing they’d removed their name altogether, expressing a growing sense of alarm.
Despite the internal turmoil, Melania Trump herself was described as friendly and engaged. However, the director consistently ranked as the most problematic aspect of the production. His behavior left a lasting negative impression on those involved.
Amazon’s massive investment – the highest price ever paid for a documentary – raised eyebrows, with some suggesting the deal was less about the film’s artistic merit and more about securing access and influence. Amazon vehemently denied these claims, stating they licensed the film simply because they believed audiences would enjoy it.
A lavish White House screening, attended by figures like Tim Cook and Queen Rania of Jordan, attempted to generate buzz. Meanwhile, Donald Trump aggressively promoted the film on social media, declaring it a “MUST WATCH” and claiming tickets were “selling out, FAST!”
Adding to the intrigue, Amazon refused to provide advance screeners to film critics, a move that fueled speculation about the film’s quality. Cinemas faced public criticism for even agreeing to show it, yet maintained their commitment to screening BBFC-approved films regardless of personal opinions.
As the release approached, a quiet sentiment began to circulate among some crew members: a hope that the film would ultimately flop. For them, a box office failure would represent a small victory against a project marred by disorganization, questionable ethics, and a director they deeply distrusted.
