After Elvis and its grand, lengthy spectacle directed by Baz Luhrmann, many might assume there isn’t much left to say about the King. Yet Sofia Coppola offers a distinctly different lens. Her take on the iconic figure arrives as a counterpoint—an intimate, shadows-and-glow study of a romance under pressure, a narrative that refuses to treat Elvis as a mere victim of his manager, and instead peels back the layers around a powerful, troubled relationship. Priscilla Presley’s testimony reveals a life lived in the glare of Graceland yet shadowed by control and manipulation. The memoirs describe a childhood stolen, a marriage marked by deception, and a pattern of abuse that continued long after the couple’s separation in 1973. The account stands in tension with lines from Luhrmann’s film, inviting readers to question who was truly the architect of pain and who bore the cost of publicity and fame.
New cinema from Coppola adapts Priscilla Presley’s 1985 memoir with a markedly different approach. The soundtrack does not feature Elvis performing the songs, a choice tied to rights held by Elvis Presley Enterprises, which curtails the musical performances that defined the era for many fans. The film is not a festival of color and spectacle; it unfolds in scenes bathed in shadow and low light, reflecting a world that feels bleak behind the gilded cage. Coppola uses this visual strategy to convey the hero’s inner turmoil, rather than relying on grandeur to generate drama. The director has spoken of a balance between the reality of the romance and the myth that surrounded it, a deliberate effort to avoid glorifying Elvis while avoiding caricature. Presley himself, not present on set, has spoken through memories and public statements about the difficulties of the lifestyle that surrounded their union.
In the immediate foreground of Coppola’s film is Cailee Spaeny, whose portrayal anchors the emotional core of the story; the collaboration between director and actor marks a quiet strength in the film’s storytelling. The overall impression is that the piece aims for fairness in character portrayal, even as it acknowledges the sadness and constraint that defined the era’s privileged circles. Coppola’s filmography is often noted for its probing portraits of young women navigating powerful social structures, with Virgin Suicides and Maria Antoinette frequently cited as touchstones. In this film, the emotional gravity sits with Priscilla, and the gaze is carefully calibrated to invite empathy without surrendering critical perspective.
The Return of Hamaguchi
Also featured in the competition today is There Is No Evil, Ryûsuke Hamaguchi’s latest work following Drive My Car. The film has earned international acclaim, including a Special Jury Prize and Cannes recognition, and continues Hamaguchi’s knack for crafting hypnotic, unpredictable cinema. At first glance, the story centers on a small town near Tokyo facing the threat of a glamorous business expansion aimed at wealthy tourists. What seems straightforward evolves into a meditation on capitalism’s impact on a fragile environment, revealing a narrative that shifts tone and tempo with surprising agility. The drama expands into a meditation on nature’s generosity and its sometimes brutal indifference, showing that even the most peaceful beings, human and animal alike, can be compelled to respond when limits are crossed. A quiet, almost elemental intensity underpins the film, inviting viewers to consider how power and profit intersect with everyday life and the natural world.