‘The Last Showgirl’ Review: Pamela Anderson Mines Pathos as an Abruptly Unanchored Las Vegas Performer in Gia Coppola’s Wispy Mood Piece

As a long-time fan of Hollywood films, I must say that Gia Coppola’s latest offering, “The Last Showgirl,” is a poignant and evocative exploration of the twilight years of a Las Vegas showgirl’s career. The film is as delicate as the wings Shelly (Pamela Anderson) tears on her stage costume, with its dreamy, melancholic tone that drifts more than it advances.

In Gia Coppola’s film titled “The Last Showgirl“, we find a soft, sorrowful depiction of an aging Las Vegas dancer grappling with the reality that her career is coming to an end. The movie shares a fragile, delicate quality like the tattered wings that Shelly, portrayed by Pamela Anderson with raw emotion, continuously rips from her stage costume. Instead of moving forward with purpose, the narrative tends to meander, focusing more on atmosphere than storyline in several lengthy, wordless scenes showing Shelly wandering, dancing, or contemplating life’s emptiness in sun-scorched parking lots, on rooftops, and city streets. These moments are bathed in lens flare and the shimmering melodies of Andrew Wyatt’s score.

Following my captivating cinematic debut with “Palo Alto” in 2013 and a slight misstep seven years later with “Mainstream,” I find myself, as a fan, still deeply influenced by the dreamy, impressionistic style of my aunt Sofia. However, this latest film, penned by Kate Gersten who is part of our Coppola family through marriage, falls short of the profound emotional intimacy found in classics like “The Virgin Suicides,” “Lost in Translation,” or “Priscilla.” Despite its raw character study that gradually gains poignancy, it can’t quite match up to those masterpieces.

Initially spotted arriving at a dance tryout wearing a playful hat adorned with sparkling baubles, seemingly intended to divert focus from her age, Shelly is a 30-year veteran of the flashy revue named Le Razzle Dazzle, the sole remaining performer on the Vegas Strip reminiscent of an old-fashioned entertainment known as “tits and feathers show.” However, her stable job may soon be in jeopardy as the act is set to become extinct, making way for a seductive burlesque circus.

Despite being moved to the backstage area, surrounded by much younger dancers, Shelly continues to be deeply associated with the revue. A sudden announcement from the stage manager Eddie (played by Dave Bautista), with whom she has a past, that they will be closing in just two weeks sends her into a spin.

For Shelly, the captivating show Le Razzle Dazzle carries on a grand tradition of entertainment that dates back to the Paris Lido cabaret acts created in the postwar era. She considers herself as a representative of this storied legacy. To her younger peers such as Jodie (Kiernan Shipka) and Marianne (Brenda Song), who often look up to Shelly like a mother figure, it’s simply their job or a means to escape from home and achieve financial freedom.

In a more critical manner, Hannah, Shelly’s college-aged daughter (Billie Lourd), initially refuses her mother’s invitation to attend the revue. Upon attending during its final performances, she labels it unimpressive and dismisses it as common trash. Furthermore, she challenges Shelly’s assertions of historical significance by demeaning it as merely a strip show.

The intensity of Shelly’s emotional attachment to “Le Razzle Dazzle” is so profound that she bravely walks out from her dressing room and potentially jeopardizes her position once more, as she strives to reconcile with Hannah who harbors resentment towards Shelly for prioritizing flashy performances over being a consistent presence in her daughter’s life.

From a different angle, Shelly’s longtime friend Annette (Jamie Lee Curtis), once a showgirl and now a cocktail server on the casino floor, shares insights about women being pushed out of jobs that value youthful attractiveness. Fresh faces are taking her shifts, and she observes this wearyingly while enjoying margaritas. Despite her experienced perspective and occasional outbursts, Annette seeks Shelly’s assistance when she finds herself in a similar situation as Jodie. However, preoccupied by her own existential dilemma, Shelly is unable to lend a helping hand at this time.

In another scene from Curtis’ wig phase, Annette outshines Donna, the disheveled mother character in The Bear. She appears as if she’s emerged from a tanning bed mishap, with layers of aquamarine eyeshadow, frosted lip gloss, and an ’80s-style shag haircut. Her workplace meltdown, which blurs the boundary between fiction and reality, finds her climbing onto a makeshift podium in a garish red and gold bellhop outfit and performing a tragic, seductive dance to “Total Eclipse of the Heart,” while casino patrons walk by, seemingly unbothered.

In this movie directed by Coppola, both Annette’s character and Curtis’ portrayal serve as unexpected contrasts to typical, flashy representations of similar settings often seen in films such as Showgirls or Burlesque. Even a bold scene featuring a staff locker room, where Curtis unapologetically reveals the natural appearance of a 65-year-old body, transforms Annette’s raw performance into something akin to a self-conscious display.

The film maintains its stability by focusing on Shelly’s story, but it occasionally delves into metaphorical themes when it explores the similarities between Shelly’s glamorous past losing relevance and Anderson’s transformation from the iconic “Baywatch” beauty to the candid, makeup-free woman of her late 50s who resists conforming to unattainable beauty standards.

Although Marilyn’s breathy voice and excessive, jittery dialogue can be tiresome at times, Anderson’s captivating portrayal is undoubtedly impactful. It provides enlightening perspectives about the character as well as the actress herself, who has faced challenges in gaining recognition. This role seems poised to be a significant milestone for her in terms of being taken more seriously.

Shipka portrays a composed young woman who appears unfazed until her decisions’ implications hit her; her comedic rendition of the dance moves in the sensual circus act is amusing. Lourd navigates the delicate balance of a daughter hesitant to allow her mother, whom she refers to as Shelly instead of mom, into her life, yet yearning for closeness. The unexpected aspect is Bautista, who showcases a previously unseen emotional range as a considerate, compassionate man whose regard for Shelly remains influenced by romantic sentiments.

In Coppola’s film, Jason Schwartzman, Coppola’s relative, momentarily appears as a director who is forced into blunt honesty when Shelly becomes emotionally overwhelmed, questioning why her audition (to Pat Benatar’s “Shadows of the Night”) didn’t meet their expectations.

As a devoted fan, I must admit that “The Last Showgirl” may appear slim on substance, leaning more towards visual appeal and ambiance than delving deep into psychological complexities. Yet, it’s the heartfelt empathy portrayed in its characterization of Shelly and women like her that truly resonates. The story beautifully captures their struggle as their self-worth erodes under the harsh glare of devaluation.

2024-09-08 02:55

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