Beauty standards and being told your age is standing in the way of a performance, of a job, is a heartbreaking moment. It must be. We can empathise, us youthful many, but cannot understand or comprehend the fear. We can see it in Pamela Anderson’s eyes, her performance as Shelly a defining moment for her not because it is her return to the spotlight but because it is one of those roles which redefines her. From Baywatch to Scary Movie, Anderson’s image came first, her abilities second. This is the inverse, and Gia Coppola finds the parallel between Anderson and Shelly. The latter a dance, the former a household name still, though one prefaced with “remember when”. The Last Showgirl is a comment on our relationship with stars, discarded as they are when the mood changes or youth leaves them.
Jamie Lee Curtis and Dave Bautista make for exceptional supporting stock in this Coppola feature, while Anderson enjoys an obvious career-best moment. This is not just a comment on Anderson and our perception of stars. The Last Showgirl manages to understand the horrific demands of work and the ever-shifting goalposts of financial security. Offhand remarks and comments about cocktail waitresses working well into their eighties are used as warnings amid the camaraderie of the never-ending workhouse. Its message is strong, but its artistic direction is weak. Lens flares, an always-moving camera, never focused on any particulars. Coppola uses the wine-glazed, shimmering Las Vegas scene as an excuse to make the outer reaches of his scene blurry. Inward we go, then, our focus directly on the person, the people, and it never quite sticks. There is conflict without interest for many of the stars within as they regale stories of their dangerous but uncredited tasks, from tiger cages to dance girls.
None of it matters. Work is work until it is not. Legends still need work, still. It is all too easy for Anderson to self-insert as the long-running show comes to an end. The Last Showgirl does nothing to stop this narrative from developing, though the focus attempts to be on the relationships around this change in tone. Curtis appears to be overacting at times, stealing the spotlight away from an emotionally capable Anderson and a reserved, enjoyable Bautista performance. How we react as one chapter closes is the key to The Last Showgirl, and that at the very least, the emotional volatility in showbusiness, is crucial. But once the cinematography has settled into place, once the overwhelmed appeal of Las Vegas disperses, what is left is a very human, very horrifying story with some strong framing and stronger characters.
Ageism plays a heavy hand in The Last Showgirl. Legacy does not pay the bills but it does get respect from those still in the game. The Last Showgirl maintains some delicacy, some strange sense of realism as it charts the lives of those who are out there, trapped in Las Vegas. Coppola is of an old-school style of storytelling, and while their direction may leave a little to be desired, their way of bringing Kate Gersten’s story to life. Anderson is a wonderful lead and does well to work her own experiences into the fabric of Shelly. Bautista and Anderson are the best parts of this film, a film that is so consistently heartbreaking, but in a reserved and realistic way. Finding that line between entertainment and engaging with the harsh truths of dance work and Vegas living, is tricky, but nailed here.
