Sofia Coppola didn't want to make another movie about Elvis. Honestly, we’ve had enough of those lately. When she sat down to adapt Priscilla Presley's 1985 memoir Elvis and Me, she wasn't looking for the glitz of the International Hotel or the sweat-drenched jumpsuits. She wanted the girl in the bedroom. The quiet. The making of Priscilla was never about the King; it was about the dollhouse he built and the person he put inside it.
It’s a weirdly intimate film. Think about it. Most biopics try to be huge. They want the "cradle to grave" sweep. Coppola did the opposite. She went small. She focused on the carpet, the perfume, and the silence of Graceland. It’s a movie that breathes differently because it was built on a remarkably tight budget and a very specific, feminine perspective that Hollywood usually ignores.
Finding the Girl Inside the Icon
Cailee Spaeny had a massive job. She had to play Priscilla from age 14 to 27. That’s a lifetime of change in a two-hour runtime. To pull this off, the production didn't rely on heavy CGI or some weird de-aging tech. It was all about the acting and the tactical use of costume design.
Spaeny actually won the Volpi Cup for Best Actress at Venice for this, and you can see why. She captures that specific, wide-eyed stillness of a teenager in West Germany who suddenly gets plucked from obscurity by the most famous man on earth. Jacob Elordi, playing Elvis, had a different challenge. He had to be a presence, not just an impression. He’s huge—way taller than the real Elvis—but Coppola liked that. It made Priscilla look even smaller. Even more trapped.
The chemistry between them isn't "movie romance" in the traditional sense. It’s heavy. It’s lopsided. In many scenes, Elordi is just a voice or a shadow, looming over the girl he’s trying to mold into his "ideal woman."
The 30-Day Sprint
You’d think a movie this polished took months to shoot. Nope.
The making of Priscilla happened in just 30 days. That is insanely fast for a period piece. Coppola is known for being efficient, but this was a sprint. They shot in Toronto, standing in for Memphis and Germany. To save time and money, they had to be incredibly smart about how they used their sets. Graceland wasn't a sprawling mansion on a backlot; it was a series of carefully constructed rooms that felt claustrophobic on purpose.
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If you look closely at the cinematography by Philippe Le Sourd, you’ll notice the lighting changes as she grows up. Early on, it’s soft, almost like a dream. By the end, when she’s leaving, the light is harsher. It’s reality finally breaking through the pink curtains.
The Music Problem (That Turned Into a Feature)
Here is a fun fact: The movie has almost no Elvis music.
The Elvis Presley Estate—which is mostly controlled by Authentic Brands Group, not Priscilla herself—denied Coppola the rights to use his songs. Usually, that kills a biopic. Imagine a Queen movie without "Bohemian Rhapsody." It sounds like a disaster. But for Coppola, it was a blessing in disguise.
By not having the hits, the film avoids becoming a jukebox musical. Instead, we get a soundtrack curated by Phoenix (Thomas Mars, Coppola's husband). They used contemporary-feeling covers and 60s tracks that reflected Priscilla’s internal world, not Elvis’s public persona. It keeps the focus on her. We hear what she would have heard: the radio, the ambient noise of a lonely house, the quiet footsteps on thick rugs.
- The Opening Track: "Baby, I Love You" by The Ramones plays over the credits. It’s a 1980s cover of a 60s song. It immediately tells the audience: This isn't a history lesson. It’s a mood.
- The Absence of Sound: Sometimes, the most powerful moments are when there is no music at all. Just the hum of an air conditioner or the clink of a pill bottle.
Costumes as Character Arc
Stacey Battat, the costume designer, basically tracked Priscilla’s evolution through eyeliner and hemlines. In the beginning, she’s in these soft, girlish dresses. Elvis famously hated certain colors and styles. He told her what to wear. He told her how to dye her hair black. He told her to wear more eye makeup.
The "making of" these looks was a massive undertaking. They had to recreate the iconic wedding dress, but they also had to show the "at-home" Priscilla. The one in leggings and simple tops.
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There's a specific scene where Elvis brings her to a boutique and picks out her clothes while she just stands there like a mannequin. It’s heartbreaking. The clothes aren't just fashion; they are a uniform. They are her cage. When she finally leaves at the end, wearing something she chose for herself, it feels like the biggest victory in the world.
Why This Movie Sparked Backlash
Not everyone was happy about how this movie was made. The estate's refusal to grant music rights was just the tip of the iceberg. Some critics felt it was too hard on Elvis. They saw it as a "hit piece."
But Priscilla Presley herself was an executive producer. She was on set. She talked to Cailee Spaeny for hours. She wanted this story told because, for decades, she was just a supporting character in someone else’s myth. This film flips the script. It shows the grooming. It shows the control. It shows the reality of being a child-bride in a world that worshipped her husband as a god.
It’s a "subjective" film. It doesn’t claim to be the definitive history of the Presleys. It claims to be the definitive feeling of being Priscilla. That’s a nuance that many people missed when the trailers first dropped.
The Visual Language of Graceland
The production design had to do a lot of heavy lifting. Since they couldn't film at the actual Graceland, they had to build a version of it that felt "correct" emotionally.
The real Graceland is kind of small, actually. It’s not a palace. The film captures that. It feels crowded with furniture and memories. They used a lot of lace, velvet, and gold trim. Everything is just a little bit too much. It’s tacky and beautiful all at once. It’s the visual representation of a dream turning into a gilded cage.
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Practical Steps for Film Lovers and Researchers
If you want to understand the layers of this story better, don't just stop at the movie. There are ways to see the "seams" of how this was put together.
Read the source material. Get a copy of Elvis and Me. Comparing the book to the film shows exactly what Coppola chose to leave out (and what she emphasized). The book is much more candid about the darker moments of their relationship.
Watch the "making of" featurettes. Look for interviews with Philippe Le Sourd regarding the "Kodachrome" look of the film. He used specific lenses to make the digital footage look like 35mm film from the 60s. It’s a masterclass in modern cinematography.
Listen to the soundtrack separately. Notice how the music shifts from the 1950s "innocence" to the psychedelic 1970s. It’s a roadmap of her aging process.
Compare it to Baz Luhrmann’s Elvis. It’s a wild exercise. Watch the 2022 Elvis and then watch Priscilla. They are like two different planets. One is the loud, public myth; the other is the quiet, private reality. Seeing how two directors handle the same people and the same house tells you everything you need to know about the power of perspective in filmmaking.
The real takeaway from the making of Priscilla is that you don't need a hundred million dollars to tell a massive story. You just need a point of view. Coppola proved that by narrowing her lens, she could actually see a lot more.