Just as America is getting set to elevate Donald Trump to the presidency, Hollywood has delivered a biographical movie called “Jackie.” It’s about the desperate days following the assassination of President John F. Kennedy and the death of Camelot.

Is this just a coincidence?

I don’t mean to suggest there’s some kind of plot. How poignant, though, that history is handing up, in Trump, an outsized new leader just as America is saying a last goodbye to the style and vision of John F. Kennedy’s presidency.

It’s been widely remarked that Donald Trump toppled the heirs of Ronald Reagan, or at least the neoconservatives claiming to be campaigning in his name. But Trump’s victory also put paid to the last claimants to the Kennedy era.

It was, after all, on an elegant young senator from Illinois, Barack Obama, that JFK’s daughter Caroline bestowed the last Kennedy endorsement. It was a handshake with JFK that inspired a young student named William Jefferson Clinton to begin the era his wife has just ended.

They’ve been routed now, scattered to, if not the winds, at least the opposition. And a new family — with Kennedy-scale wealth and then some and its own version of style and glamour — is moving to center stage.

What a moment for a movie like “Jackie,” which TimeOut New York called a “psychodrama of hypnotic intimacy” and the Hollywood Reporter has called “a shattering reflection on loss and legacy.”

The movie is built around the assassination as seen through the eyes of Mrs. Kennedy, played by Natalie Portman. It portrays Jackie’s recollections being drawn out by an interviewer for Life magazine, Theodore White.

The film opens with dark, atonal music. The narrative unfolds with flashbacks to November 22, 1963, including a re-enactment of the assassination so graphic as to border on what might be called the pornography of historical violence.

One close-up shows Mrs. Kennedy turning to her husband, already choking from the first bullet, when his head is struck by a second bullet. An overhead camera shows her holding what is left of his head as the presidential car careers toward Parkland Hospital.

The film portrays Mrs. Kennedy wiping her husband’s brains and blood from her eyes and mouth. It shows her on Air Force One witnessing Vice President Lyndon Johnson being sworn in as successor to her martyred husband.

Then we see Jackie at the White House, removing her bloody stockings and undergarments and stepping into the shower, her husband’s blood washing out of her hair and down her back. It is a radically daring film.

It is redeemed by Mrs. Kennedy’s decision share her grief with the nation and to walk behind her husband’s casket for the funeral procession. She vows that if the visiting heads of state shrink from doing so, she’ll walk alone.

It is only at the end that, through White’s interview, Jackie puts the focus on the myth of Camelot that had so enchanted the young president. And suggests that there will never be in Washington another Camelot.

Or will there?

It’s hard to imagine the nascent Trump administration molting into the cornucopia of culture that the Kennedy White House became. But it’s not hard to detect certain echoes of the Kennedy years today.

Partly it’s policy. This has been marked by Lawrence Kudlow in his book on how the principles behind JFK’s cuts in the top marginal tax rates were adapted by President Ronald Reagan for his own revolution.

Mr. Kudlow traces a direct line between those policies and the tax reforms being hatched on Capital Hill this very week. It’s no small thing that a JFK fan is being floated as chairman of Trump’s Council of Economic Advisers.

Could Trump emerge at the center of a new Camelot? No doubt the very question will shock many who loved JFK as an icon of a vanished liberalism. But there are others — author Ira Stoll of “JFK, Conservative” — who saw a different JFK.

The movie “Jackie” ends with an evocation of what was lost and what might have been, a kaleidoscope of optimism and glamour of a sort we could yet see at, say, Mar-a-Lago. Just up the beach from the private palace known during the Kennedy years as the Winter White House.