“I’m older––I’m not old,” says Shelley, the longest-term performer in a past-its-prime Las Vegas revue. She is played by Pamela Anderson, the international icon who has never, ever had a role like this. Shelley is 57 years old, living paycheck-to-paycheck, estranged from her daughter, and intensely vulnerable. Clearly we are far from the beaches of Baywatch and action spectacle that was Barb Wire. And Anderson is one of the chief reasons Gia Coppola’s The Last Showgirl is a noteworthy film. But this is not stunt casting. It’s a real-deal performance, and Shelley is one of the more memorable Vegas denizens in recent cinema.
Shelley’s Las Vegas is the Vegas of shattered dreams and empty pockets––stripped of artifice and bathed in harsh sunlight. Coppola, whose earlier efforts Palo Alto and Mainstream showed great promise, and screenwriter Kate Gersten have a keen understanding of the behind-the-scenes world of the city. Steady jobs are hard to come by, so Shelley is rocked by the news that her show, Razzle Dazzle, is being replaced by a circus-themed act. The latter has already taken over Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays, much to the performers’ chagrin.
She is the den mother of a group of dancers that includes younger performers played by the stellar Kiernan Shipka and Brenda Song. Also nearby is Annette, a brassy dancer-turned-cocktail waitress played by a spray-tanned (and hilarious) Jamie Lee Curtis. And finally there is “dad,” the kind, soft-spoken stage manager Eddie––Dave Bautista plays him with a beard and Joe Eszterhas mane, and has never been better––who bears the bad news that Razzle Dazzle is about to say goodbye.
No one takes the news harder than Shelley, who has been the face of the show (literally) for decades. Indeed, the show has been her life––even more than her college-aged daughter, nicely portrayed by Billie Lourd. The scenes between Anderson and Lourd are, like the majority of the film itself, heartbreakingly believable. Shelley is sweet and motherly, but deeply flawed; Gersten’s script is unafraid to show her as a woman who was forced to choose career over family. This was an unfair situation, but Gersten and Coppola realize it’s reality for many mothers.
One of the strongest elements of The Last Showgirl is its focus on the minutiae of everyday life as Vegas performers––prepping to head onstage, struggling to put on the costume, chatting about the ups and downs of a dancer’s life. This subtle approach leads to an occasionally aimless narrative. This works on the level of an intimate, character-driven drama, and it’s impressive to see how Coppola’s film develops a real, believable sense of family for a group of characters whose own family lives are fractured or destroyed. Shipka has one of the film’s most devastating scenes, in which she explains to Shelley that she never thought leaving home meant she could not go back. The scene is especially painful because Shelley is saddled with her own problems, and rather heartlessly turns her young friend away.
It’s a treat to see Anderson play scenes like this; she deserves more roles like Shelley. The same can be said of Bautista. After his work in Blade Runner 2049, Dune, Knock at the Cabin, and now here, there’s no denying he’s a remarkably strong actor. Anderson, Bautista, Lourd, Shipka, Song, and Curtis are a dynamic bunch, and Coppola gives each actor their moment/s to shine. The director also takes great pains to avoid the more obvious Vegas vistas seen so often onscreen. Coppola is less interested in the glittering lights of the city than in letting the camera stay on Anderson’s face––a mix of heart-tugging optimism and deep pain. The result is a smart, emotionally satisfying exploration of people who may no longer have a place in modern Las Vegas. Coppola sees the end of shows like Razzle Dazzle as the end of an era. It’s both enjoyable and moving to watch her capture this world before it fades away.
The Last Showgirl premiered at TIFF 2024.