Review by Grace Winburne
The Last Showgirl is a tender, sentimental, and meandering journey through the ancient ruins of the Las Vegas of yesteryear, with its empty malls, and weathered iconography, it is an ode to a fallen empire. We are reminded that nothing stays the same forever, no matter how tightly we cling to our past. This film is a swan song, the final curtain call for the Las Vegas of old, but it serves as the beginning of a long overdue Pamela Anderson Renaissance, and I, for one, couldn’t be more excited. I was most excited to see The Last Showgirl at TIFF this year. I read Pamela Anderson’s book in anticipation, wanting to get to know her as I was genuinely interested in learning about her in her own words. Pamela Anderson is the last of her kind, a showgirl in her own right, a set dressing in movies, or a beautiful clothing rack for high fashion couture. But Anderson has always considered herself an artist, and she has always believed in herself. Her performance is somewhat semi-autobiographical; as she’s poured so much of her life and experience into her character, Shelly, supercharging the film with an overwhelming earnestness, in a rallying cry of “I’m still here!”.
When the legendary floor show, the Razzle Dazzle, announces its final performances, seasoned showgirl, Shelly, scrambles to find new work, and get her life back on track hoping to reconnect with her estranged daughter. With only a few weeks to prepare for an uncertain future, and already struggling to make ends meet, as the life of a dancer in noble pursuit of her art doesn’t exactly pay well, who can Shelly turn to? Shelly relies on a community of friends, two young girls from her show, Marianne and Jodie played by Brenda Song, and Kiernan Shipka, and her friend, cocktail waitress/gambling addict, Annette, played by Jamie Lee Curtis. Jodie, and Marianne treat Shelly like their mother, and do their best to help Shelly prepare for auditions for the newer, sexier shows. But can Shelly handle this new world of floor shows? She’s practically a relic of a bygone era. Annette’s gambling addiction and Shelly’s unwavering dedication to the Razzle Dazzle make them two delusional peas in a pod. Two women, growing older, bet on themselves and risk it all, knowing that no matter what, this dysfunctional community of women truly have each other.
This was oddly an interesting double feature with The Substance. Two women, legends in their respective careers, who are given the boot once they reach a certain age and are unable to continue in the entertainment industry. They no longer excite audiences. These women are used up and discarded, completely expendable in a world where allegiance to youth and beauty is fleeting. While The Substance is a bloody middle finger raised in righteous fury, The Last Showgirl is a poised, final bow to thunderous applause from an empty audience. My heart broke watching Shelly, such a bubbly woman, the last vanguard of a forgotten art, stand firmly in her dance shoes and rail against the end of her world as she knew it. It took a bravery I didn’t know existed. To watch her say goodbye to her life with all the glamour she could muster really moved me. She sacrificed her relationships, marriage, motherhood, everything for her art. At times she could be a petulant young girl who never grew up, who perhaps never had to grow up, making mistake after mistake as she tries to get her life on track. Nevertheless, her total belief in herself as an artist is so admirable; believe in yourself and your art and you’ll always be fulfilled, even if it is a solitary existence.