An exploration of ageing, motherhood, and the cost of dreams.
Shelly Gardner (played by Pamela Anderson) is a veteran showgirl in her 50s who has spent decades under the spotlight at Le Razzle Dazzle on the Las Vegas strip. But her glamorous career comes at a cost: a tenuous relationship with her semi-estranged daughter (Billie Lourd), stemming from the sacrifices Shelly made in favour of her career in her youth. But what happens when the show she devoted 30 years of her life to suddenly shutters due to dwindling ticket sales? For the younger girls, Le Razzle Dazzle is simply a gig that pays the bills. But for Shelly, whose entire identity is dependent on her status as Razzle Dazzle's showgirl, it’s an existential reckoning.
She is suddenly forced to confront the uncertainty of her future in an industry that sidelines ageing performers. We follow Shelly as she reflects on the choices she’s made in her life, grapples with the passage of time, and searches for life beyond the warm glow of Le Razzle Dazzle’s spotlights.
Pamela Anderson. We like her a lot. The role feels tailor-made for her, and it’s hard to imagine anyone else doing a better job of playing Shelly with the same depth and complexity. It’s tempting to draw parallels between Anderson and the character she portrays; both were once stars in their own right whose worth was linked to their beauty and youth, only to face the realities of ageing in industries that often sideline women after their prime. Perhaps that’s why the performance Anderson delivers feels so raw, so cathartic.
At 56, Shelly still speaks with a fluttery panic, wears mini skirts and bomber jackets, and resists the idea of being regarded as a maternal figure—even to the younger showgirls at Le Razzle Dazzle. She captures the fragile earnestness and enthusiasm of a wide-eyed girl trapped in the body of an ageing woman. You feel that sense of vulnerability and feminine pain that emerges from a woman whose sense of self has been built entirely on the beauty of her youth.
The way she desperately clings onto her fading youth seems absurd at first, and it’s easy to mock and judge. But then you understand this is a woman who essentially gave up her daughter to chase the glittering effervescence of the spotlight and build on this part of her identity. But when the spotlight no longer shines for her, what remains? To cope, she tightens her grip on this identity, if not, what was it all for?
The Last Showgirl is not just about Shelly—it’s about the sacrifices women make, the impossible choice between career and family. It’s a refreshing film that takes on the perspective of a woman who refuses to be denied her dreams. It’s a gritty meditation on family, identity, and nostalgia—amongst other things. But what struck me the most was its exploration of how tightly our sense of self can become entwined with our careers and passions. The film fearlessly tackles a narrative that Hollywood often shies away from: the darker, less glamorous side of chasing one’s dreams.
"Doing the job that you don't really love, that's hard." - Shelly Gardner
In a society where dreams are tied so closely to careers, no one seems to talk about what happens when you reach the end of those dreams. This apathy toward the inevitable conclusion of our aspirations is a theme rarely explored, and it’s what makes The Last Showgirl so thought-provoking. Rather than discourage ambition, the film serves as a cautionary tale about the dangers of tying too much of your identity to your job and losing yourself in it.
As the third feature film from director Gia Coppola, the film unfolds more like glimpses into a fleeting period of someone’s life captured through a series of vignettes and blurry mirrors. Instead of a narrative with major twists and distractions, the film nestles itself in the crude and familiar melancholy of life we’re all entrenched in. Taking on this observational approach allows space for the performances to breathe, giving audiences the chance to sit and marinate with the raw, human emotions that permeate throughout the film.
Visually, the film mirrors the glitz and glamour of the Le Razzle Dazzle stage, with a vibrant colour palette and flashy costumes. It’s a stark contrast to the sombre tone and energy of the film—a façade for the grisly underbelly of struggle and pain simmering beneath the surface. It’s a nice juxtaposition which reinforces the idea of reserving judgment. The smiles we see may only exist so the show can go on—we’ll never know the tears that are being blinked away as the curtain falls.
The dialogue left quite a bit to be desired. There were moments in the film where conversations felt disjointed, particularly in the confrontation between Shelly and Jodie (Kiernan Shipka). In this scene, the 20-something-year-old showgirl attempts to seek comfort from Shelly, only to be rejected for no apparent reason. While it’s understood that Shelly is desperate to avoid assuming a maternal role, the conversation as a whole felt awkward and unnatural.
The film also fell short in developing its supporting cast of Dave Bautista and Kiernan Shipka. There were several montages of Anderson standing on the Vegas strip or wandering through car parks which could have been better utilised to add depth to the other characters. While the film’s overarching message came across clearly, it lacked substance in places, often filling gaps with scenes of Anderson just standing around.
Jamie Lee Curtis’s character, Annette, is a prime example of this underdevelopment. Despite being given a respectable screen time, Annette remains a bystander, with little effort made to flesh out her character aside from a montage of her dancing to "Total Eclipse of The Heart" in a Vegas casino. There was no lasting impression or meaningful contribution to the story, especially given the amount of attention her character received.
Oh, and the casting choice of 32-year-old Billie Lourd playing a 20-year-old university student was odd, to say the least.
The Last Showgirl shares many parallels with Demi Moore’s The Substance. Both films explore the ageing woman’s place in industries that won’t hesitate to leave them behind. It’s worth watching both films to compare the similar themes explored in varying ways.
The Last Showgirl is now out in theatres.
