Eleanor Coppola’s making-of film treats Sofia’s Marie Antoinette as a family home movie

A new documentary by Eleanor Coppola, shot on digital video, offers an intimate, affectionate record of the production of Sofia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette, showing the practical strains of mounting a lavish period drama while largely avoiding the more explosive backstage drama of some filmmaking memoirs.

Eleanor Coppola’s short documentary on the making of Sofia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette unfolds more like a family home movie than a conventional behind-the-scenes exposé. Filmed on digital video by the director’s mother, the piece captures the slow rhythms and occasional stresses of staging a demanding period production while remaining gentle in its tone — a marked contrast with the tumultuous portrait of a director’s struggle seen in Hearts of Darkness.

Two decades after Sofia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette was released, the feature remains notable for its unembellished, unironised portrayal of the queen’s early years before the 1789 revolution. The film, which starred Kirsten Dunst, was applauded for its meticulous costume work and location shooting at Versailles, and drew on Antonia Fraser’s biography as source material. At the same time, its anachronistic use of 1970s and 1980s pop music on the soundtrack and its high-fashion visual approach provoked controversy, with French critics reportedly booing screenings and accusing the film of reducing national history to a music-video aesthetic with few French actors.

The restored affection for the film among its admirers is evident in Eleanor Coppola’s documentary, which appears aimed squarely at that constituency. Rather than excavating conflict or controversy, the footage dwells on daily practicalities — rehearsals, costume fittings, long shooting days — and on small, human moments among cast and crew. That approach offers viewers a sense of the labor behind the film’s polished surfaces without turning the story into a scandal-driven behind-the-scenes account.

For audiences familiar with more combative accounts of filmmaking, Eleanor Coppola’s film may seem restrained. It is tactful in what it shows and omits, preferring an intimate chronicle of family and professional collaboration to an unflinching depiction of on-set turmoil. In doing so, the documentary provides a quiet complement to Sofia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette: a modest, affectionate record that underscores the craft and domesticity that helped produce a divisive, much-discussed film.