I think I should start this review with a confession: I have not, in fact, seen the first fifteen minutes of The Last Showgirl. I wish I had, but the truth is that when it first started at the cinema that night, I wasn’t there yet. Hadn’t even left the house, in fact; I was still at home trying to work out why my makeup verged more in the direction of emo drag queen than the iconic ‘90s style of Pamela Anderson, whose look I’d spent nearly five hours trying to replicate.
This seems ironic, I know. As main character Shelly in The Last Showgirl, Anderson could hardly be more different from the glamorous bombshell who became an international superstar with her starring role in the TV series Baywatch. She’s vulnerable and raw but deeply flawed, and electrified at all times by a sort of anxious energy that makes her almost as difficult to watch as she is to look away from. Shelly wears no makeup, except for when performing on stage in the Las Vegas burlesque review she stars in. In this way, she mirrors Anderson herself, who since 2023 has been open about her decision to upend beauty standards and embrace her authentic self by no longer wearing makeup.
Indeed, Shelly is certainly authentic. However, she’s also fundamentally a performer, specifically an older woman performer acting in arguably one of the most image-obsessed industries around. In this way, I think it’s not so ironic at all that I dressed up as ‘90s Pam just to go and see the film. Anderson’s casting automatically makes the film about femininity and beauty standards, even if this is indirect. As a result, I don’t think there’s many better ways I could have chosen to celebrate The Last Showgirl than by getting dolled up just because. Certainly, spending an hour trying to glue down my false eyelashes that night doesn’t mean the womanhood I embodied, sitting at the back of the cinema in my ripped fishnets, was any more or less valid than Anderson’s as she twirled around on screen.
That the film is about womanhood is, I think, inarguable. The cast and crew are primarily female, and include some of the finest stars of their respective generation. Academy Award winner Jamie Lee Curtis is unforgettable as Shelly’s best friend Annette, and director Gia Coppola steps into her famous surname with style. Kiernan Shipka, meanwhile, is almost unrecognisable as one of Shelly’s fellow dancers, and she’s vibrant and earnest in her role. The story handles topics like family, pain, meaning, love and beauty with grace, fixing a compassionate but uncompromising eye on Shelly as she struggles to accept the closure of her burlesque revue. The actual plot is thin, offering action only insofar as it occurs as a result of Shelly’s decisions following the revue’s close. Another core theme Coppola explores is the conflict between Shelly and those around her, including her friends, her manager, and her estranged daughter.
The fact that the plot is centred around the interactions between characters rather than major plot points is not, however, an issue. I personally prefer films driven primarily by character rather than plot, and for those with similar tastes, The Last Showgirl is almost certain not to disappoint. It’s compelling and resonant, as well as never predictable, and everything from the costumes to the cinematography sparkle with vivid, passionate and aching life in such a way as to be almost entirely unlike any film I can recall seeing before. Although I did miss the first few minutes of the film, I know when I watch it again (because there’s almost no chance I won’t) they’ll be just as captivating as the rest of it, and I feel confident describing the film as radiant. And if you are going to watch it – as you should – well, a bit of ‘90s Pam glamour couldn’t possibly go astray.
