At the centre of Gia Coppola‘s The Last Showgirl is Shelley (Pamela Anderson), a 57-year old (though she’ll initially tell you otherwise) Vegas all-girl revue performer whose 30+ years in the Razzle Dazzle show are coming to an abrupt end. But just as Shelley’s tenure is closing, and the uncertainty of life sets in, Anderson’s career as an actress of note seems to be just getting started.
Far from the undemanding beaches of Baywatch or the critical mauling of action vehicle Barb Wire, Anderson sinks her teeth into Coppola’s creation, showcasing immense vulnerability, whilst maintaining a sense of camp likeability that has so often linked itself to her career. This is Anderson like we haven’t seen her before, and though her signature high-pitched vocals may suggest a certain forced caricature-like mentality, it ultimately only adds to her character’s child-like wonder and why her pain resonates with us when she’s told her stage services are no longer needed.
Eddie (a beautifully tender Dave Bautista), the Razzle Dazzle stage manager, is the bearer of the bad news. Informing Shelley and the younger crew, namely Jodie (Kiernan Shipka, a standout) and Marianne (Brenda Song), that the raunchy circus-themed act that is currently stealing their weekend slots is becoming a permanent strip fixture, Shelley, already living paycheck-to-paycheck, is unsure how to navigate her future. She’s in limbo between accepting her fate as washed-up (at least in the politics of the Vegas strip) and wanting to hold onto the sparkle she knew the city once honed for women such as her.
The conflicting feelings she has regarding her career and what it’s meant for any kind of professional growth is best represented through the estranged relationship with her daughter, Hannah (Billie Lourd). Kate Gersten‘s script is unafraid to showcase Shelley as a woman who chose her career over her family, but it’s not as black and white as that, and it’s in the shades of dialogue between Anderson and Lourd that this push-pull dynamic reveals itself, with Anderson heartbreakingly good as she justifies herself, despite such falling on deaf ears.
As to be expected from a Coppola, The Last Showgirl is less interested the glittering lights of its surrounding and more on the intimate details of its cast and their expressions. Every smile of Shelley’s, whether its genuine or for show, is on display, with her blend of optimism and sadness shaping each frame Anderson occupies. The film, unsurprisingly, belongs to Anderson, but Bautista and a fiery, overly tanned Jamie Lee Curtis as Shelley’s bestie, a dancer-turned-waitress, Annette, earn their stripes just as mightily; For a character piece, The Last Showgirl is quite the enjoyable ensemble feature.
As intimate and quiet the film is, there may be those that also see The Last Showgirl as a hollow experience. It very much submits to a temperament regarding those that have lost their place in whichever establishment they called home, and there’s an almost aimlessness to Shelley’s journey that may not necessarily feel emotionally satisfying. Personally, this fear of the unknown resonated, and Coppola shaping both the Razzle Dazzle and Shelley’s placement within that as a moment in time that’s slowly fading away feels poetic. She wants to capture this moment of greatness for Shelley as a character and for Anderson as an actress, who has so long been undone by an industry that immediately boxed her.
THREE AND A HALF STARS (OUT OF FIVE)
The Last Showgirl is screening as part of this year’s Toronto International Film Festival, running between September 5th and 15th, 2024. For more information about the festival, head to the official site here.
