Thoughts on The Last Showgirl

This being the Sin City Newsletter, I thought I’d share some thoughts on the movie The Last Showgirl. I realize I’m a little late…

Loved Pamela Anderson in her role as Shelly, playing one of the iconic Vegas showgirls with their bejeweled costumes and gravity-defying headdresses. She came with that high-pitched voice that allowed both vulnerability and naivete (well, ditsy). A lot of that is just good casting, but she brought it to life with her acting. Unfortunately for Pamela Anderson, she’s always going to be Baywatch Pamela in whatever she does, so the fit was there.

The backstory is that Shelly gave up an out-of-wedlock child for adoption to pursue her career as a showgirl and her art which is dancing. She tries to reconnect with her daughter who doesn’t understand why Shelly abandoned her. Her art? The daughter thinks her mother is little more than a stripper. The show is the last of its kind in Vegas and scheduled to close. She tries to find another gig, but she’s past her prime. The question is, what will she do now?

Here’s what I know from my time in Vegas, back when these shows were still popular. Showgirls didn’t dance. They were hired because of their height, long legs, and beautiful bodies. I knew one who worked as a cocktail waitress before getting her big break. This young woman was nearly six feet tall and gorgeous, but she couldn’t dance a lick. In the movie, we never see Shelly dance on stage, which I take to be a flaw, this being her art and all.

Dancers, on the other hand, were a separate breed. Most were young, athletes, and one sprained ankle or torn ligament away from being on the street. They didn’t last long.

I lived with two, Mimi and Bubbles. Both were in the Fire and Ice show at the now wiped-off-the-map Hacienda Casino. Both would come in for happy hour when I worked at TGI Fridays. Drinks were always bought by others or comped, and both showed up for their performances each night half-bombed.

Mimi was petite and had grown up doing competitive gymnastics. She’d do tumbling passes across the stage and then tap dance through a Putting on the Ritz routine with a top hat and cane. Bubbles was the Ice part of the show, arriving on stage in her ice skates to glide and spin. She’d grown up a competitive figure skater, then a touring member of the Ice Capades before an ankle injury ended that gig. Once in Vegas, skating in the Hacienda show on a twelve-by-twelve sheet of plexiglass wasn’t exactly physically challenging. I never did know how Bubbles got her name, but she was bubbly. In a way, Bubbles was like Shelly—all charming with her high-pitched voice, cute button nose, and blond Shirly Temple curls.

We were all good friends. But then both moved when the Fire and Ice show finally closed. Both picked up dancing gigs in Aruba, even though Bubbles couldn’t dance a lick.

But back to the movie. I loved Jamie Lee Curtis in her role as the washed-up showgirl, Annette. The hair, makeup, booze, gambling, and boxy body give you a glimpse of what Shelly might become after the show ends. Going out on a limb here, I think she steals the show, which is not necessarily good. When she did that as the mother in The Bear, I was all about it, especially because she was in strong company with Bob Odenkirk, Abby Elliot, and others. Against the more demure Shelly, Annette becomes a distraction from the storyline.

Which brings me to the story. I just feel there should be more. I get that it’s about an ageing dancer, an artist in her mind who needs to face the reality of what her life was and will become. That’s fine, but it’s also about family. Shelly left her child behind and wants to atone for that sin, regret, or whatever-you-want-to-call-it. She had the child with David Bautista as Eddie who, in a vulnerable scene on a dinner date, is callously cast aside (I wanted more here and maybe a relationship of sorts). Annette is supposed to fit into that family somehow, but none of these subplots with Eddie or Annette are resolved in a way that’s satisfying. Finally, two other younger showgirls enter the story. Shelly coldly kicks one to the curb when the girl really needs mothering. In the end, Shelly weirdly embraces the two, like now they’re surrogate kids in her new twisted family. Contrived, I thought. Frankly, I feel the story should have ended as a tragedy, Shelly picking up a cocktailing job alongside Annette.

I think the director Gia Coppola liked the idea of bringing this cast of offbeat characters to life but wasn’t sure what to do for a complete story with a satisfying ending. That, or some third-party meddling was involved.

Now back to Mimi and Bubbles. They returned a year later. It was a celebratory reunion with all of us going out, starting with happy hour at Fridays where the bartenders welcomed them with drinks on the house. Then to Tramps where I was now the nightclub manager. I got the whole story. In Aruba Bubbles’ lack of dancing skills became apparent, and she lucked out with another gig as a magician’s assistant. Bubbles was now madly in love with the magician. I think, like Shelly, Bubbles moved on to a longish career. Possibly, unlike Shelly, she’s now playing with grandchildren.

Mimi? While in the car cruising to Fridays, she pulled out a pint of Tequila. Even in Vegas, I had my limits, and taking shots while driving to a bar to go drinking was over the line. I later heard Mimi went off the rails in Aruba, doing way too much coke and booze with the wrong people. Two weeks after arriving back, she took a job as a stripper at the Crazy Horse II. I guess if Bubbles was a version of Shelly, Mimi was definitely Annette.

Final verdict? Go see it, if you haven’t already. Great watch despite its flaws.

e