The new film from Sofia Coppola, “Priscilla,” begins in 1959. Sitting at the counter of a diner at a U.S. Army base in Germany, Priscilla Beaulieu (Cailee Spaeny) is asked whether she likes Elvis Presley. She answers with a question: “Of course, who doesn’t?” Priscilla is petite, polite, and fourteen—a little older than Juliet was when she first bumped into Romeo. The exciting, if alarming, news is that Elvis, the most unattainable of stars, has swung into her orbit. He’s currently stationed nearby, serving in the military, and Priscilla is invited to meet him at a party. Romeo is right there in the room. “You’re just a baby,” Elvis tells her. “Thanks,” she replies.
Elvis is played by Jacob Elordi, who, by my estimate, is about three times taller than his co-star. As a result, the rapport between Elvis and Priscilla appears to be powered less by loving hearts than by simple hydraulics; he has to lean over and down as if hinged, like an industrial crane, for a word in her ear. (Later in the movie, she acquires a towering beehive, but that doesn’t really solve the problem. “Talk to the hair” is not something you say to Elvis Presley.) Nonetheless, the two of them fuse, sharing pangs of homesickness, and it’s not long before Elvis is introduced to Priscilla’s mother, Ann (Dagmara Dominczyk), and stepfather, Paul (Ari Cohen). “I happen to be very fond of your daughter,” Elvis reassures them. When he takes her out for the evening, Paul—a captain, and therefore Elvis’s superior in rank—commands him to “bring her home by 2200.” This is the Army, son.
Esta historia es de la edición November 13, 2023 de The New Yorker.
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Esta historia es de la edición November 13, 2023 de The New Yorker.
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