The Last Showgirl

When you think of Las Vegas, an odd assortment of images comes to mind, generally harkening back to another time: classy casinos draped in neon cutting into the night sky, Elvis Presley resplendent and sweaty in a rhinestone jumpsuit, Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra smoking and joking on stage. At the heart of all that spectacle, strutting through the haze of old-school glamour, is the showgirl, the stunning, dancing fixture of Vegas that seems to have been around for as long as time itself.

It may be surprising, but the showgirl has actually all but vanished. 'Jubilee!', the last grand revue, closed in 2016 after 35 years at Bally's. Cultural shifts, changing tastes and finances all played a role- audiences now favour superstars like Adele and Garth Brooks over sequined spectacle. When casinos stopped subsidizing productions in the 1980's, producers ditched the risk, paving the way for residencies, Broadway imports and the odd allure of Cirque du Soleil. While showgirls haven't disappeared entirely, the era of grand, glitzy revues has faded, leaving only traces of its former glory.

With the showgirl now a relic of Vegas's past, Gia Coppola's 'The Last Showgirl' steps in to explore what's left of that glittering legacy. Inspired by the closure of 'Jubilee!', the film follows Shelly, a veteran performer in Le Razzle Dazzle, a classic French-style revue. After three decades on stage, her world is upended when the show's closure is announced. Unsure of what comes next, Shelly must navigate an uncertain future while confronting what it truly means to leave the spotlight behind.

It is a touching drama, resonating on multiple levels. Kate Gersten's screenplay deftly examines the waning days of the showgirl era, serving as both a love letter to classic Vegas and a poignant meditation on aging in showbusiness. Much like Coralie Fargeat's 'The Substance'- though far less grotesque- it explores the physical and emotional toll of an industry built on youth and beauty.

At its core, it is a character study, anchored by Shelly's journey from center stage to a foot-note in the wings. Coppola lingers on the quiet moments- empty dressing rooms, fading lights, the weight of sequins that once felt like armour- painting a deeply human portrait. Through Shelly, the film contemplates the inevitable question for any performer whose identity is tied to the stage: when the curtain falls, who are you without the spotlight?

Beyond Shelly's personal reckoning, the film also explores the toll of her choices on those around her, particularly her strained relationship with her daughter. The screenplay excels in these interactions, with sharp, lived-in dialogue that adds depth to both Shelly and the richly drawn supporting cast.

In this way, the film shares DNA with Darren Aronofsky's 'The Wrestler', Bob Fosse's 'All That Jazz', and again, in a less grisly sense, 'The Substance'. It also has striking real-world parallels to the life of star Pamela Anderson, who, like Shelly, once embodied an era's idea of beauty and spectacle, then to see her status dwindle. Anderson's recent return to Broadway in 'Chicago' was a reclamation of her own narrative- proof that reinvention is possible, but never easy.

These intimate character moments are further elevated by the striking cinematography from director of photography Autumn Durald Arkapaw, as well as Natalie Ziering's lush production design. The neon glow of old Vegas flickers like a fading memory, captured in warm, nostalgic hues that contrast with the stark, impersonal corporate sheen of the city's modernity.

Moreover, Jacqueline Getty and Rainy Jacobs's costumes- especially Shelly's extravagant stage attire- serve as both a reminder of past glory and a symbol of the identity she struggles to hold onto. Complementing it all is Andrew Wyatt's evocative score, full of dreamy, melancholic undertones, mirroring Shelly's own emotional highs and lows. Together, these elements don't just recreate the lost world of the Vegas showgirl- they immerse one in it, making the film not just a story of one woman, but an elegy for an entire era.

Yet, without a strong lead, the film could have easily faltered. Pamela Anderson delivers a career-best performance as Shelly, capturing her fragility beneath layers of feathers and rhinestones. As Shelly- a woman who spent decades in the spotlight, now struggling to find her place in the shadows- Anderson is quietly devastating. While her own public persona adds an intriguing meta-layer to the role, it's her vulnerability, grace and effortless authenticity that make Shelly feel so achingly real.

Furthermore, Jamie Lee Curtis does typically fine work as Shelly's friend Anette, a feisty cocktail waitress whose best years are behind her. Brenda Song and Kiernan Shipka bring nuance and depth to their roles as younger showgirls at different crossroads, while Billie Lourd is equally impressive as Shelly's estranged daughter Hannah. Additionally, Dave Bautista brilliantly underplays the role of Shelly's producer Eddie, and Jason Schwartzman makes a delightfully insidious cameo as a seedy casting director.

Much like the fading neon of old Vegas, 'The Last Showgirl' glows with a bittersweet beauty, paying tribute to an era that refuses to be forgotten. With a spectacular Pamela Anderson at its heart, Gia Coppola's film is both elegiac and deeply human, capturing the quiet heartbreak of life beneath the greasepaint. Showgirls may no longer rule the Strip, but if Shelly- and Anderson's luminous performance- prove anything, it's that true stars never really fade. They just find a new way to shine.

The beauty of this film lies in its simplicity but that doesn't mean it lacks complexity.

At a time when movies try so hard these days to be bigger and glossier, both in budget and running time, it's a breath of fresh air to find a film under 90 minutes that tells a relatable human story without needing to resource to hyper stylised visuals or an overcomplicated plot.

This movie is about real people going through real hardships. We are invited to be bystanders as we follow the life of the titular character (Pamela Anderson's Shelly) as she faces the end of a chapter in more ways than one, and she's in fact the last of a kind.

The director Gia Coppola gets close enough to her subjects using handheld cameras but never indulges in the drama talking place. This movie is a drama, no doubt, but it isn't melodramatic. It is profoundly sad but it doesn't linger. It's heart breaking because we all know a Shelly, or we've been one ourselves... We recognise these characters, and the actors do a great job bringing honesty to each and every part.

But lets be clear, this movie works because of Pamela Anderson. Not only she does a great job here; the nuances in her choices as an actress, the physicality, the voice. But it is the old classic Hollywood style of acting that is so rare to see these days that really caught me by surprise and that I'm afraid will pass some viewers by. She reminds me of Marilyn Monroe, Lana Turner, Ingrid Bergman. She is vulnerable jet commanding of the screen. She is the closest to a Katherine Hepburn if she had worked in an indie film. She really is that good, without needing a big tear jerking scene, of which there are many 'close-to' moments. The dinner scene with with Dave Bautista's character is a great example of the complex and layered acting we're talking about here. So is the first scene in which Shelly meets her daughter.

I hope this movie finds its audience and that Mrs Anderson gets her well deserved flowers.

Jamie Lee Curtis nailed it in one of her interviews. This is a movie about the degradation of women at the end of their lives. The use of the glamour of Las Vegas showgirls to show the slow decline with an eventual fall off a cliff edge - poverty, homelessness - when they are no longer young and sexy. Eddie gives us a view of how older women *are* sexy, but only when they are not being objectified.

The audience laughed quite often in poignant moments, and I suspect it was to cover their discomfort with the journey of the two older women.

The photography was often very close, and it created an intimacy, also showing the flaws of aging bodies that were at odds with the on-stage showgirls.

Some reviewers said the characters were superficial, but I think perhaps that's a lack of personal experience with the issues these women were facing. I enjoyed this movie. It's not tragic, but it is gently heartbreaking at times.

In "The Last Showgirl", Pamela Anderson stars as Shelly, a middle-aged showgirl who has made a decades-long career in a now rapidly declining act on the Las Vegas strip. When she learns that her famed show is unexpectedly set to close up shop, she faces an existential crisis.

There is no arguing that this film's surface appeal for virtually all of the filmgoing public is to see its star like we've never quite seen her before--and in some ways it's true, in others, not. The Pamela Anderson forever edified in pop culture has never quite been taken seriously as a performer, or perhaps has simply never gotten the right opportunity--but regardless, I will say that her performance here is very good. She captures a nervy pathos as Shelly that is well executed by any measure. The film's dialogue at times feels slightly stilted which does detract from the performances to a degree, but this is true of most of the cast, and not really their fault.

Visually, "The Last Showgirl" is a marvel. It appears to have been shot on aged film stock, which gives it a filtered but grainy appearance that is otherworldly and almost lost in time. While it appears to be set in the early 2000s, the 1980s-tinged set pieces and the dimly-lit casino interiors are supremely atmospheric. Anyone who has been to Las Vegas and seen this side of it can attest to how perfectly (and poetically) the city's less glamorous nooks and crannies are captured here.

The film is ostensibly a character study, as Shelly attempts to plan a future in the face of an impending career death--a career which she has long defined herself by. The premise is interesting in that the character is, in a sense, shamelessly shallow, despite having a real heart and an upbeat cheerleader-esque personality. She wants the best for not only herself, but those around her, and yet her anchor in life is proved ephemeral and only fails her. She is also un-glamorized in the sense that her personality flaws are unveiled as the film progresses.

By her side is Annette (Jamie Lee Curtis), an older and long-ago-ousted ex-showgirl who takes fleeting gigs cocktail waitressing, and who drowns her sorrows in a variety of alcoholic beverages. Where Anderson's character has more reserve, Curtis's brash and bawdy personality brings some spark, and the two have genuine chemistry here. The younger cast (Kiernan Shipka and Brenda Song, playing much younger showgirls who view Anderson as something of a surrogate mother, and Billie Lourd as Anderson's semi-estranged daughter) also give respectable performances.

Despite that it seems to strive toward character study, I ultimately feel like "The Last Showgirl" functions better as a downbeat mood piece than anything else. The characters--even Shelly--remain somewhat unreachable, which I suppose may be intentional. This is a world of surfaces, after all, and the film seems to fundamentally understand this. The moody shots of Anderson ambling around the Vegas strip, and Curtis's transcendent casino dance to "Total Eclipse of the Heart" are pure, unadulterated cinematic pleasures. And even if these moments don't drive home the heartbreak in the story, they are worth the price of admission alone. 7/10.

Like said Mickey Rourke in 'The Wrestler' Pamela Anderson makes a solid comeback where she wears her age well and isn't afraid to show lines, warts and body change but still manages to give herself a devil may care attitude to a profession she has spent years enjoying and honing just to keep the ' fans' happy. It's a touching brave performance and ranks alongside Demi Moore in 'The Substance' as a substantial age of reinvention for those over 50.

Jamie Lee Curtis (looking very much like Auntie Jo!!) provides able support as the cocktail waitress whose dreams faded long ago-her dance on the table to 'Total Eclipse of The Heart' is rather moving. She should have been getting more awards for this than the tiresome 'Everything, Everywhere, All At Once'.

I'm always interested in the twilight years of those who have made a living using their musical talents/movie star image and bodies for entertainment and fame whether it pornography or not-The Rialto Report is a thorough exploration in this.

Gia Coppola shows the brash colour of Las Vegas mixed with drab bungalows with plastic garden furniture and empty bottles highlighting these empty unfulfilled lives.

There is also a decent score by Andrew Wyatt.