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joons · 2 months

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This may be a prickly subject, and I'm sorry if so. But I'm trying to learn more about Elvis, and every time I bring him up to people I know, they try to tell me he was this terrible person, and point me toward Priscilla's book, the movie made on it, and the discourse. Idk if you've talked about it on here (I tried searching your blog but couldn't find anything on it). If you're willing, I'd love to hear your take on it so I can see a more nuanced view.

The film Priscilla was greenlit roughly a month after Priscilla herself was informed that she was close to becoming financially insolvent in 2022. With a business partner, Brigitte Kruse, who allegedly helped broker the film deal, she established a limited liability company called Priscilla Presley Partners that was supposed to use her image and likeness to create several lines of merchandise to coincide with the film's release. That business partner is now suing Priscilla because she did not have the rights to her image or likeness, or any ability to use the Presley name, because she had already sold all of those rights and was no longer considered in good standing with Graceland or Elvis Presley Enterprises. The entire business deal, then, according to the lawsuit, was built on her misrepresentation of how much her image was worth.

The deal between the two of them fell apart after Riley Keough, Lisa Marie's daughter and Priscilla's granddaughter, settled with Priscilla to give her a lump sum of $1 million from Lisa Marie's estate and yearly amounts of $100,000. Priscilla sued very shortly after Lisa Marie's death because she thought Lisa Marie's signature on a will had been forged because Priscilla was not included in it. All of the assets were supposed to go directly to Lisa Marie's son, Benjamin Keough, who died in 2020, and her three daughters, two of whom are still teenagers. Now, part of those assets have been claimed by Priscilla and her other son, Navarone, who has no connection to the Presley family and has stated he is glad Lisa died.

Four months before Lisa's death, Lisa wrote to Sofia Coppola and made it clear she had strong concerns about the Priscilla film and was suspicious of the intentions behind it:

"As his daughter, I don’t read this and see any of my father in this character. I don’t read this and see my mother’s perspective of my father. ... I will be forced to be in a position where I will have to openly say how I feel about the film and go against you, my mother and this film publicly."

Lisa was enormously grateful for efforts put into 2022's Elvis to find her father's soul and to restore his dignity in a world that often turns him and his family into a joke:

"You can feel and witness Baz’s pure love, care, and respect for my father throughout this beautiful film, and it is finally something that myself and my children and their children can be proud of forever."

It is such a strong and powerful statement, to see how much Lisa valued family, not just her father but her own children and their legacy, and how willing she was to speak up no matter what was going on in her personal life to say what was right. On this and many other things, Lisa and Priscilla's values have rarely been in alignment. A friend and EPE business associate, Joel Weinshanker, said of her, "Lisa couldn't be bought, she couldn't be pushed. If she felt that something wasn't in Elvis' best interest, it was never about money. And she really is the only Presley that you could say that about."

Priscilla, though, has adjusted her stories about her time with Elvis almost every time she discusses it. For a quick example, she said in her book, which was released in 1985, that Elvis insisted she do her hair and makeup a certain way, that he had control over her look and would get upset if she didn't dress how he wanted. But in an interview with Ladies' Home Journal in 1973, she said that she made a deliberate choice to attend makeup school so that she could learn how to style herself, and that it was her idea to wear big, black hair and big, black eyeliner. She said she was embarrassed for going overboard. She said, "I wish that Elvis had said something, but he must have liked it because he never commented." This lines up with recollections from Patti Parry, a platonic friend of Elvis' and a hairstylist, who said Priscilla always wanted Patti to do her hair in a "big boombah," but that Priscilla would then get upset when Elvis didn't notice or didn't like it.

These changes are impossible not to notice if you follow her for any length of time. At the film premiere, she said it felt just like watching her life and said she was consulted on everything, since she was an executive producer. After the film came out, she said she couldn't understand why Coppola had changed so much about the story and misrepresented events. In the '70s, she said she and Elvis lived almost totally separate lives, that she came and went as she pleased, and that she loved this freedom. Later, she said she felt completely stifled and trapped and never left the house, even though she had friends she went out with all the time. In 2019, she tweeted a forceful denial about a National Enquirer story: "This is the Enquirer folks... please don't believe everything you read. ... Never planned on being buried next to Elvis. What will they come up with next?" But part of her settlement demands in her lawsuit against Riley in 2023 asked "to be buried next to Elvis." This year, she said in two separate interviews that Lisa was with her when Elvis died and that Priscilla had to break the news to her, despite the fact that Lisa was at Graceland when it happened. She has said she gave Elvis the idea to wear belts on his jumpsuits, to have a lightning bolt as his logo, to sing "An American Trilogy," though none of that is true. She retells the story about forcing Elvis to burn all of his spiritual books to prove he loved her as an almost funny anecdote about debrainwashing him, while Elvis later said it was the worst thing he ever agreed to, a desperate attempt to make her happy by giving up the things he valued the most. (For the record, this is my opinion about their relationship on both sides: thinking they could change themselves and each other to make it work. It never did.)

Every secondhand Elvis account has to be treated lightly and only valued for its consistency with known facts and other witnesses. I try to give enormous benefit of the doubt to anyone in the Elvis world because they often only have partial knowledge of what Elvis may have been thinking at any given time, and there are numerous examples of people who were taken advantage of by unscrupulous journalists who changed the story they wanted to tell. But Priscilla's stories sometimes are not even consistent with her own statements, which makes them very poor options indeed to base anything on. However careful we are about noting potential biases and inaccuracies in other memoirs, we have to be triply, quadruply careful with anything in which Priscilla involves herself because she has a vested interest in generating discourse today in order to make money. Unfortunately, Priscilla has a habit of stifling other accounts or making sensationalized statements each time there is a possibility that she will lose some of the cachet that comes with being an Elvis Source—after Elvis' death, when she believed she was going to inherit his airplane and disinvited everyone that Vernon said could fly in it to his funeral; when she sued the parents of one of Elvis' ex-girlfriends after he died because he had allowed them to live rent-free in a house he bought for them; when she claimed that Elvis wanted to reunite with her before his death, despite the fact that he was engaged to someone else and told many people he couldn't see a reunion ever happening with her; before Vernon's death, when she convinced him to make her an executor of the Presley estate until Lisa came of age; after Lisa came of age, when she convinced Lisa to let her stay on as partner; when Lisa accused Priscilla of misspending Lisa's money, during which time anonymous sources cropped up to say Lisa was in debt and drug-addled; when Priscilla was removed from her position as an EPE spokesperson but kept collecting $900,000 a year from the company; when Lisa died, and Priscilla sued once she learned she wasn't in the will; when Priscilla was no longer associated with EPE and decided to do another adaptation of a book that she has since recanted parts of and has contradicted before and after its release.

When Priscilla thinks there is a threat to her image and position, she does new interviews and projects to muddy the waters and stir public interest, whether it is true or false, positive or negative, laudatory or defamatory. She gets corrected by Elvis' surviving family members, girlfriends, friends, and fans, but these stories do not get the same reach no matter how much they are backed by contemporaneous documents and witnesses, or how many resources there are to educate the public on how Elvis' and Priscilla's attitudes about marriage and relationships changed—along with the rest of society—between 1960 and 1970.

I think almost any single-source project is not going to advance our understanding of Elvis in any way because no one individual can speak for him, and we are kind of obligated to include all the context we can in order to appreciate his character, his successes and failures, flaws and virtues—and to treat both himself and those around him as fully three-dimensional people who have their own blind spots. Priscilla is far too aware of her own image, and far too willing to change it to suit the audience, to be particularly valuable here.

She is next scheduled to appear at the Lexington (Kentucky) Comic & Toy Con.

#please know that for each of these stories i have tried to see things from her perspective #and then something happens again #and again and again #so i have simply stopped trying and accepted that i don't like her or find her credible as far as these things go #i don't imagine i should be privy to all their family drama so of course some of this may change over time #but there are far far far better sources for learning about elvis!#an easy gateway would be ashley's adventures and elvis fans matter on youtube!#ashley does a lot of fun documentation of graceland and efm is the family channel of billy and jo smith #they are elvis' cousin and his wife who were with elvis a lot and they have good human stories #same caveat goes for them: they might not know everything #but i just like the format better than books

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tennessoui · 11 months

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hi kit! I was rereading your playmaker au (I absolutely love it btw!!!) and I have soo many questions! Like? How does qui-gon react to obi-wan showing up to the ball/gala/thing(?) with anakin? is he angry? upset (probably not lol)? does he talk to obi-wan/anakin or does he just ignore them outright? does anakin provoke him (of course he does but howwww???)

also, obviously your writing is amazing and I love literally everything you do!!!! <33333333

here is what happens at the policeman's ball! told from mace windu's pov (in this au he was like obi-wan's supervisor)! i think qui-gon is definitely furious, but after this night he also pivots to try and get obi-wan's loyalty back -- but before that, there's the anger

(2k)

Mace Windu has a headache and a terrible feeling about this whole thing. He never likes anything that has to do with the City politicians, especially the Mayor, and the annual Policeman’s Ball is probably the thing he likes the least.

It’s opulent and gaudy and uncomfortable to have so many eyes on him, on their work, as if they care about him and the department any other day of the year. But he knows as well as any of the detectives that this Ball is the bed they must get into with the politicians, the city’s most wealthy. Here is the night money slides across palms, deals are struck and good men leave their morals at the door.

Just for one night. Just for the sake of their offices, their men. Those who schmooze the best, woo the most politicians, the most wealthy elite, are the ones who get the better budgets, the newer equipment. And Mace is Coruscant born and bred: he, like everyone else, knows that morals are the first things to go when lives are on the line.

Maybe it wasn’t always like this, but Mace cannot remember another way. Not in this city where even the politicians don’t have the actual power nor the funds or means to oust the men who do--the men and women who cut through the crowds with sharp smiles and rough palms, heads high and proud, draped in diamonds and pretty things, suits clean-cut and perfectly tailored.

Members of mobs, inside the city and out. Leaders of far-reaching crime syndicates, the kind Mace has committed his life’s work to fighting, to rooting out of Coruscant.

Everyone knows who they’re climbing into bed with when they shake Asajj Ventress’ hand to seal a deal, when they laugh too hard at Rush Clovis’ comment, when they fall over themselves to give Anakin Skywalker their attention.

No one admits it.

Mace has lost men—good men—in the pursuit of justice against the mobs of Coruscant, sure that with enough evidence, he can put at least one away for life. It’s a dream he and his captain, Qui-Gon Jinn share.

Tilting his head, Mace finds his superior in the crowd, the man’s tall and unmistakable hair making him stand out as much as his stony silence and refusal to play along this year.

He wonders if Jinn feels the same exhaustion as Mace does. The dream has never felt farther away. The price has never seemed so steep.

Jinn lost his son, not even six months ago. The boy had been bright and clever, and Mace had looked at him and felt hope for the future of the city, all bundled up in Obi-Wan Kenobi’s soft smile.

He never should have been sent undercover. Mace shouldn’t have allowed it when Jinn passed down the orders. Kenobi was too young, too willing to prove himself, too naive for the mission.

And Vader took him, made him into just another bright young light snuffed out before its time.

Mace downs the rest of his drink and cuts through the crowd to reach Jinn’s side when he notices the mayor approaching. Jinn had insisted on coming—truly, he couldn’t not attend as their captain—but he will not be at his sharpest, at his most willing to play along tonight.

Jinn has always had the strongest morality of any guy Mace knows in the force, but he’d been willing to say what he had to say in the past to look out for his men, play nice with the politicians for the better budgets, the new supplies.

Losing his son changed something in him though. Made him colder. Made him cling even tighter to his morals.

With a dead wife and an estranged son, his convictions were all he had left—save for his job.

“Mayor Palpatine,” Mace says easily, holding his hand out to shake the mayor’s hand. “You’ve outdone yourself this year.”

The mayor smiles at him with a sick sort of grin, but his attention is almost completely focussed on Jinn. “You know how much I enjoy the Policeman’s Ball. All of Coruscant’s best and brightest in one place for one night…a marvelous opportunity to strengthen our friendships, build trust, and honor those who protect us.”

Jinn’s returning smile looks stretched far too thin across his face. Mace closes his eyes in silent prayer that Jinn will hold his tongue.

“All of the riches of Coruscant in one place,” Jinn says, “and those who are bound by duty to protect them.”

“And what a noble calling that is,” the mayor smiles and there is something wrong about it, something terrible. “Only few are truly cut out for such a path, Captain Jinn, and we thank you for your stalwart service.”

He pauses and his face shifts into one of regret. Mace feels on edge.

“In fact,” Mayor Palpatine says, “I was just chatting with your son, and he—”

“He’s here?” Jinn straightens his shoulders, posture becoming ramrod straight as his eyes leave the mayor to roam around the rented room. “How?”

“Oh?” Palpatine raises both his eyebrows in mock surprise. “You didn’t know?”

“My son is no longer with the Force,” Jinn bites out, voice filled with more venom than Mace has ever heard before. “He should not have been allowed to come tonight.”

“Ah,” Palpatine says. “I see there’s been some confusion. Your son is attending as Mr. Skywalker’s companion for the evening, not as a member of the police force. Though—there they are actually. I do hope I did not ruin a surprise visit!”

Mace, with a feeling of dread welling up in his gut, turns his head to look at the two men Palpatine is now gesturing forward.

Anakin Skywalker prowls towards them like some great beast returning from a hunt with prey already dead between his jaws, or like an emperor returning to his city fresh from a conquering.

He looks neat and pristine, eyes crinkling with the force of his smirk as he guides Obi-Wan Kenobi to meet them with a hand pressed to the boy’s lower back.

Still some paces away, Skywalker leans down to whisper something into Obi-Wan’s ear, and the boy snaps back with a scowl, voice soft so as to hide his words.

The boy’s hair is short and rather awkwardly cut, but it’s the same strawberry-blonde Mace remembers seeing the boy’s mother wear. His eyes are hers as well, clear, light blue, though they have none of the softness Mace recalls him having before they sent him undercover.

He looks well-fed at least, and he holds himself close to Skywalker’s body, as if he truly feels safe in the claws of a dragon.

Since the last time he saw the boy leaving the precinct, on his way into Skywalker’s arms, he has wondered how Obi-Wan liked his new life. If he felt like it was worth it, to lose his job and his father and his future for the mobster who would never be capable of loving him back, not truly.

Looking at Obi-Wan now, dressed in expensive, soft-looking clothes, and carefully held in Skywalker’s arm, Mace can’t deny that the boy looks fine.

Healthy. Happy, if not for the current scowl marring his features.

“Gentleman,” Skywalker says when they reach them, holding out a hand for Jinn to shake.

Jinn does not move.

Skywalker’s eyes flash like flint sparking, and he adjusts his grip on Obi-Wan, pulling him fiirmly into his side and slightly in front of him, even as he drops his hand.

The tension in the air chokes any sort of conversation starter Mace can think of before it leaves his lips.

His eyes, without his conscious permission, remain stuck on the face of his biggest regret, unable to overlook the way Obi-Wan turns into the line of Skywalker’s body, as if taking comfort from his touch—as if Mace and Jinn are the lions and Skywalker Obi-Wan’s champion.

“I hadn’t realized you—” Palpatine starts to say, but he is cut off.

“Obi-Wan,” Jinn says suddenly, tone harsh, every inch the captain of the police. The tension in the air increases exponentially. Mace hadn’t realized that was possible. “You cut your hair.”

Something dark flashes across Skywalker’s face, and Mace watches as he moves his hand up to brush over the collar of Obi-Wan’s shirt, the exposed back of his neck.

“It’s in regulation,” Obi-Wan replies, looking for the first time this evening at his father. “Are you proud?”

The question is heavy, weighted: it always has been with Jinn and his son. Obi-Wan always did care less about if his father liked something he did and more about if he was proud.

“That your hair is in regulation?” Jinn’s lips are tight, jaw clenching and unclenching. “Obi-Wan, you have not spoken to me in six months. And you come tonight, to this event, on the arm of that monster, allowing him to move you about and speak for you, wearing clothes he bought you with money soaked in blood, and you ask if I am proud that you wear your hair to police standards? You have made a mockery of my life’s work, and you have lost yourself completely.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes look wet, and his hand is tangled in the pocket of Skywalker’s pants, seeking out connection. Mace closes his eyes and barely resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. He has been witness to more fights between Jinn and his son than he cares to remember.

Jinn always finds the worst words to say.

And Obi-Wan learned how to fight from his father’s example.

They’re ruthless and they’re cruel, and they fight each other like they’ll accept no survivors.

“You are no son of mine, Ben,” Jinn says, even though Mace knows how much the loss of Obi-Wan has affected the older man, knows he misses him, knows he loves him still.

Obi-Wan blinks rapidly, hurt naked on his face, before he wipes it clean off and raises his hand to tuck a short piece of hair behind his ear. The motion is slow, pointed, and Mace’s eyes catch immediately on the angry red lines circling his wrist.

Handcuff marks.

Mace takes a fortifying sip of his drink when he hears Jinn’s sharp inhale at the sight.

“Daddy,” Obi-Wan says, “can we go home? It’s close to the twins’ bedtimes, I don’t want to miss it.”

It’s Skywalker who responds, because it’s Skywalker Obi-Wan was looking at when he spoke. It’s Skywalker who wraps his arm securely around Obi-Wan’s waist and presses a kiss to his temple, dark eyes never straying from Jinn. “Yes, of course, sweetheart,” he tells Jinn, smirking like the cat who captured the canary right under the birdkeeper’s nose. “Gentlemen,” he says to Mace and the mayor. “Apologies for leaving early, but family calls.”

They are only half-turned around when Jinn recovers his tongue. “They are not your family, Obi-Wan,” he says. To Mace, he sounds as if he is begging. He wonders what Obi-Wan hears in his voice.

The boy turns his head to the side, posture perfect and nose pointed slightly up in cold disregard. “I would hardly call you an expert in family, Captain Jinn. You do not even have a son.”

Jinn moves sharply forward at this, reaching to touch his son’s arm. But before he can touch him, Skywalker intercepts him and grabs his wrist so tightly that Mace can see his hand flexing with the effort. Jinn’s bones must be grinding together. “Do not,” Skywalker says lowly and darkly, every syllable dripping with implicit violence. “Do not try to touch what is not yours, Captain.”

“Ani,” Obi-Wan murmurs, turning in his hold so as to rest his hand lightly on Skywalker’s chest. Mace tenses, wondering if Obi-Wan will be treated with the same violence, the same dark look for having the nerve to try and tame the beast.

He is not.

The moment their eyes lock, Skywalker lets go of Qui-Gon’s wrist in favor of tucking a piece of hair behind Obi-Wan’s ear once again. There is nothing performative about the action now—just a man who cannot help but touch his—his lover.

The thought sickens Mace, and he knows it must be worse for Qui-Gon, who is still standing where he was left, hand halfway reaching out to his son and far, far too late to ever catch him.

#asks #playmaker au #obikin #vaderwan #obi-wan got so mad he called anakin daddy in front of his father #anakin is fascinated all over again and also hopes obi-wan knows that he is going to have to call him that again #and again and again

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