There is nothing more captivating than Pamela Anderson’s standout performance in The Last Showgirl. Through the lens of Gia Coppola atmospheric ode to aging femininity in the City of Lights, Anderson delivers a refreshingly raw and heartfelt portrayal of Shelley, a Vegas showgirl in the twilight of career, grappling with the closure of her long-running show and the personal demons that come with it.
After the premier at the Toronto International Film Festival premier, the cast emerged, greeted by thunderous applause, for the post screening Q&A, where Anderson shared, “I think I’ve been getting ready my whole life for this role,” acknowledging how atypical this role is for her. “It’s the first time I ever read a good script, first of all,” she said to laughs. Other material, she joked, hasn’t been quite so “coherent.”
But she came close to never even seeing the script. Which would have been a grave oversight, given this not only was the most substantial film role that Anderson has performed, but one that was tailor made for her. Like Anderson, Shelley demands that her passion for performing in the Vegas revue, nudity and all, be taken seriously—just as Anderson has long advocated for herself. And something we, the public, have long taken for granted were it not for The Last Showgirl coming at a time of mass cultural reassessment of the star.
Following the 2023 release of several streaming projects that examined the life of Anderson, including her own Netflix documentary “Pamela, A Love Story”, audiences are re-examining her career and personal life with a more empathetic lens – allowing her to reclaim her narrative from the sex symbol & tabloid figure she was most often associated with.
In a way, this level of assessment is only possible in our society today, and made event more relevant through the lens of Coppola – a name that has its own reputation and legacy in Hollywood that precedes this film. But, while Gia Coppola shares some stylistic elements with her aunt Sofia, such as a focus on character-driven narratives and visual aesthetics, her approach is distinct in its dreamy, nostalgic quality and emphasis on youth and identity. She draws on her background in photography, to bring a keen eye for detail and composition to her filmmaking that can be seen throughout The Last Showgirl. It’s these interludes of framed shots that captures moments of stillness and introspection between each chapter of The Last Showgirl and provide another layer of emotional resonance throughout the entire film,
The narrative is rich with historical context, shedding light on the overlooked contributions of women to Vegas’ legacy and ultimately the sacrifice they make for that contribution. The showgirls, once the epitome of glamour, is a discarded remnant of a bygone era too tame to carry on in a modern Vegas.
This is the brilliance in the screenplay from Kate Gersten which was inspired by her time observing the showgirls of Jubilee!, the “last standing tits and feathers show,” as she described it during the TIFF Q&A.
From there, Gersten imagined Shelley, a woman who has been with the production Le Razzle Dazzle for upwards of 30 years, prancing onstage nightly in wings and rhinestones. Shelley loves her job, acting as a den mother to some of the younger dancers ( Shipka and Song). But despite her best efforts, it is clear she is of another generation than her stage counterparts. Shelley is stuck in the past and holds onto the idea of what Le Razzle Dazzle once was: a phenomenon where the showgirls were celebrated and flown around the world. Now, it’s closing to be replaced by a “dirty circus,” and, in the last weeks of its run, Shelley finds herself adrift and grappling with her life, trying to sort her relationships and figure out her next steps as an unemployed showgirl in her 50s. Her superficial relationships with show producer Eddie (Dave Bautista), fellow showgirl/show-daughters Marianne (Brenda Song) and Jodie (Kiernan Shipka) strain under the weight of Shelley’s anxieties, and with her daughter (Billie Lourd) estranged from her, she leans on Annette (Jamie Lee Curtis), another woman ageing out of her career as a Vegas cocktail waitress.
As the credits roll, The Last Showgirl leaves viewers with a lingering sense of introspection. The Last Showgirl is a melancholic yet vibrant ode to the nameless heroes of Las Vegas entertainment. In Shelley’s final bow, we see the enduring spirit of those who dared to dream, but maybe even more importantly, we see the end of an era.