The Last Showgirl is a fantastic showcase for Pamela Anderson… but not much else

With her fragile Marilyn Monroe voice, Pamela Anderson delivers a quietly dynamic performance in The Last Showgirl. Thrust into the limelight due to her body and the enduring humiliations that cascaded through her life, Anderson’s actual history lends the film an aura that transcends the story of a showgirl unwilling and unable to retire. More than just creative typecasting, though, Anderson undeniably brings a tenderness that uplifts a film that is otherwise not especially interesting. With the softness of her voice and the self-aware performance of her body, she captures a wistful elegance that wavers between delusion and grace.

Once a headliner for one of the biggest shows in Las Vegas, Shelly (Pamela Anderson) seems to love her life as a showgirl. Embracing the feathery glamour of her position, she sees herself as an artist who has sacrificed nearly everything for her craft. Her Hollywood persona imbued with softened feminine fragility is part of a larger package of being a jewel of the Las Vegas strip. But after learning that the longtime show will be closed in a couple of weeks, Shelly is forced to reckon with her past as she looks towards an uncertain future.

The Last Showgirl is a watchable film; Anderson drives a lot of the appeal, working around a screenplay that feels half-baked. The movie hits many predictable beats, a kind of Nomadland for the showgirl set. It’s a film about outsiders and artists wandering through a system that offers them very little stability and security, particularly into their old age. The ideas are interesting in a broad sense, but only feel half-examined. The movie’s narrative trajectory feels predictable and rushed-through, leaving very little room for introspection.

Aesthetically, the film’s soft-toned pastel colour scheme looks quite beautiful. Otherwise, though, the handheld aesthetic and pop-editing feels a little too Tumblr to have any deep impact. The movie lacks a cohesive vision, swinging from naturalism to artifice without much consideration. With very little of the showgirl performances being shown, we rely heavily on how people describe the show to understand it. On one hand, it allows us to buy into Shelly’s delusion that what she’s engaged in might be high art; on the other, the reveal that it’s cheap burlesque borders on a cruel joke on an already vulnerable character.

Outside of the show, the way the film deals with family feels very half-hazard. Anderson’s relationship with her daughter seems like an afterthought, and the consequences of her life choices don’t carry much weight. The parallels between that relationship and the ones that Shelly develops with some of her young colleagues searching for parental figures leave a lot to be desired. They reveal an aspect of Shelly’s personality that are unlikeable, but the casual self-centredness she displays feel more like plot points than fully embodied ideas.

Among the supporting cast, Dave Bautista is a clear standout. He delivers a subdued and sympathetic role as the show’s producer. Like Anderson, Bautista’s career has long been defined by his physicality and here we see the full range of his acting ability. With the exception of Jamie Lee Curtis, who delivers an embarrassingly messy and inconsistent performance, much of the rest of the actors are good to serviceable.

In the end, there isn’t much to say about The Last Showgirl. It’s a film that has some interesting ideas conceptually but ultimately doesn’t really go the full distance to explore them. At best, it’s a beautiful tribute to Pamela Anderson, a charismatic performer who is rarely given the chance to showcase the full range of her talents. ■

The Last Showgirl is now playing in Montreal theatres.

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