Directed by: Gia Coppola
Written by: Kate Gersten
Run Time: 1 hour 29 minutes

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Pamela Anderson is enjoying quite the career renaissance. Ever since her run on Broadway as Roxie Hart in Chicago, her reinvention has been beyond doubt. Her time on stage was detailed in her enlightening Netflix documentary Pamela, a Love Story (2023) and now she finds herself in the leading role of feature film, The Last Showgirl.

Directed by Gia Coppola, the film follows 57-year-old Las Vegas showgirl, Shelly (Anderson). She’s performed on the strip as part of the Parisian-style revue, Le Razzle Dazzle for thirty years, but her future is suddenly thrown into uncertainty when the show is abruptly announced to be closing. Shelly is forced to reevaluate her situation while also trying to reconnect with her estranged daughter, Hannah (Billie Lourd).

Coppola certainly captures the duality of the Las Vegas strip. On one hand she invites audiences to appreciate all the glitz and glamour of the show’s truly fabulous costumes – actual archival pieces by Peter Menefee and Bob Mackie. While on the other hand she presents the very real and unglamorous struggles that many of the dancers have to face after they’ve hung up these same fantastic outfits. In doing this she presents a striking juxtaposition, showing the fact behind the fantasy of Fabulous Viva Las Vegas.

Autumn Durald Arkapaw’s cinematography strives for the same realism. Shot on 16mm, her work has a gorgeous, grainy aesthetic to it, one that exposes the nitty-gritty of both the film’s location and its protagonist’s life. Her close-up shots further enhance the naturalistic feel that she confidently establishes, so it’s a real shame that parts of the film, bizarrely, are out of focus. Presumably an intentional choice, this lack of clarity adds nothing but frustration and presents somewhat of a barrier to audiences becoming fully immersed in this world. There’s perhaps one too many shots of characters broodingly standing in front of Las Vegas landmarks too, as with each additional example The Last Showgirl feels more like a vapid music video than an intriguing feature film.

Thankfully, Coppola’s supporting cast are on hand to liven things up. Jamie Lee Curtis is especially entertaining as outspoken casino waitress, Annette – giving a more accomplished performance here than she did for her recent Oscar win. While Brenda Strong and Kiernan Shipka impress as Shelly’s fellow showgirls. They have a really authentic chemistry and offer a different perspective on their line of work compared to Shelly’s, and when all the girls are together the film really is at its most fun. The final addition to the main cast is Dave Bautista who stars as Eddie, the show’s producer. He contributes a more subdued performance, offering a welcome balance to the ensemble of big personalities.

Kate Gersten’s script doesn’t always know what to do with them though, and as a whole The Last Showgirl feels a little underwritten. It’s quite a straightforward look at endings, especially unexpected ones. Yet, ironically, it doesn’t offer much in the way of conclusions. However, there’s still value in just sitting in the unknown. It conveys that uneasy in-between phase when one thing is ending but before the next has started. It’s a phase which often consists of a wide range of emotions: sadness and anxiety for sure, but also that little bit of hope. Hope that in the end, everything will be ok.

And for The Last Showgirl, Pamela Anderson is that hope, because her casting and performance are what makes this film a success. Without her, it just wouldn’t work. The parallels between Anderson’s early career in modelling and TV with Shelly’s time working as a dancer in Las Vegas are undeniable, and it’s their shared experience that allows the film to flourish.

Both women have had to justify their art while receiving unfair criticism. Several dressing room discussions see Shelly staunchly defending the show amidst the critiques of the younger dancers. While her attitudes about Le Razzle Dazzle certainly differ from those of her own daughter’s. Elsewhere she also has to manoeuvre the ageism of casting directors as she looks for new work. All of the injustices that Shelly has to endure feel true to Anderson’s own experiences, making this a deeply personal role and all the easier for the audience to root for Shelly at every single turn.

With such a strong connection to the role, Anderson delivers an impassioned performance, one of physical prowess – those headpieces aren’t light – and full of vulnerability. Her innocence is especially endearing, and in taking on such a role she’s proved to her critics, and maybe most importantly, herself, that she’s only just getting started. Vehemently declaring that the show must go on.

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Star Rating: ★ ★ ★

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