There are certain movies that soar as a result of the elements that bring them together: The whole becoming greater than the sum of its parts. The Last Showgirl, the indie drama that may propel Pamela Anderson towards an Oscar nomination for Lead Actress, stands out in this regard, as the collaboration between Anderson, director Gia Coppola, and writer Kate Gersten leads to a film that reflects back on the world in unexpected ways.
Set in Las Vegas (if you couldn’t guess from the title), the film tracks several weeks in the life of Shelly (Anderson), who’s spent decades dancing in one of the Strip’s classic topless revues. Unfortunately, due to declining ticket sales and audience interest, Le Razzle Dazzle is about to close, and while several of the show’s other dancers are young enough to start new careers elsewhere, Shelly finds herself at a crossroads.
A powerful aspect of The Last Showgirl is the way that it continues to contribute to this new era of Anderson’s story, one that began with 2023’s Netflix documentary Pamela: A Love Story, which put her in control of her narrative. There’s a clear distinction between her and Shelly, but the character feels very much like an expression of the anxiety that almost feels too cliche to bring up — the plight of the aging beauty, forced to confront the passing of time.
You’d think The Last Showgirl was written just for Anderson, though Gersten actually based the script on a play she’d written years before. Still, casting her almost feels like a move out of the Darren Aronofsky playbook, enlisting an actor whose past legacy brings additional heft to the material, whether it be Mickey Rourke in The Wrestler or Brendan Fraser in The Whale. The difference here is how fully engaged Anderson feels as a part of the process; rather than be the story’s pawn, she drives it forward.
Outside of her time in dressing rooms and on stage, Anderson doesn’t wear much makeup in the film, but that’s not what makes her performance brave. Instead, it’s the unflinching look she takes at the realities of life for all of us as we get older. Because we all face the ends of the things that we once took for granted, whether that be the Vegas tourist’s interest in boobs framed by sequins, or other institutions that once seemed rock-steady in their reliability.
The Last Showgirl provides no easy answers for Shelly’s plight — there’s no Hollywood ending that saves the show or helps her find success elsewhere. Instead, the closing of a once-iconic showgirl revue, boobs out and everything, becomes a potent metaphor for whatever other looming example of obsolescence might be lurking in life. (If you’re over the age of 40, how many jobs have you had that no longer exist today, due to the shifting of industries and rise of technology?)
For much of the film, we see Shelly try to take control over her own fate by rehearsing an original audition routine — putting her faith in her talent to create her next chapter. This isn’t the kind of movie where that ends up being a successful endeavor, though. Instead, The Last Showgirl suggests that the only good answer for Shelly’s future lies in community, the little found family that Shelly’s accumulated almost by accident.
This is why it’s so striking that she actively rejects said found family at her lowest points, pushing away the people who care about her, especially if they come to her looking for help. These are scenes that bring out the best in the film’s remarkable ensemble, with Dave Bautista giving the kind of performance that confirms his bonafide talents as a soon-to-be-Oscar-nominated actor; the delicate way his complicated history with Shelly unfolds works largely thanks to the interplay between both actors.
Shelly’s scenes with the three young women who gravitate to her — dancers Mary-Anne (Brenda Song) and Jodie (Kiernan Shipka), and Shelly’s actual daughter Hannah (Billie Lourd) — are also all heartbreaking in their own unique ways. Though they’re all tied to one central issue: Shelly is proud of her daughter, and cares about her co-stars, but she doesn’t define herself as a mother… and resents being pushed into that role.
We never get to see the full glory of Le Razzle Dazzle on screen, only hints of its promised glamour in the costumes worn by the cast. Yet through Shelly’s eyes, it still feels like something to be mourned, if only for her sake. Shelly doesn’t care about market forces or changing times — she just wants to keep doing what she loves, and is left helpless by the realization that it’s simply not possible. It’s a performance worthy of all the acclaim it’s received, not just because of the emotional impact that Anderson’s involvement brings. Her work is instead a reminder that none of us are obsolete as long as we keep breathing. We always have a chance to tell our stories.
The Last Showgirl is in theaters now.
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