A gritty piece about the travails of an ageing Las Vegas showgirl and those around her, The Last Showgirl feels real.
Back in the day, decades ago, Shelly (Pamela Anderson), was one of the headline acts in Le Razzle Dazzle, which was fashioned on erotic Paris shows, like the Lido.
Now, at 57, she is the eldest in the company, which is way past its zenith.
The showgirls continue to put on happy faces and dress in sexy lingerie, complete with rhinestones, feathers and towering headdresses.
But, truth be told, the numbers attending have dwindled, overtaken by the new breed of entertainment.
Shelly still takes pride in what she does. For her, it is more than a job. It is a calling.
That’s not the case for her contemporaries, including the pragmatic Mary-Anne (Brenda Song) and the enthusiastic 19-year-old Jodie (Kiernan Shipka).
Shelly lives by herself, but would dearly love a man in her life. She has sailed troubled waters in that regard.
When she hits the latest speed bump (a bloke she met on site has stood her up), she invites her friends around.
That includes an outspoken former dancer, now a cocktail waitress, Annette (Jamie Lee Curtis), who wears far too much makeup.
She left Le Razzle Dazzle six years ago, but remains close to Shelly and the troupe.
In turn, Jodie has extended the invite to their show manager Eddie (Dave Bautista), a man of few words who cares about Shelly.
In fact, Eddie and Shelly have history, but there is an awkwardness between them.
Eddie drops the bombshell that the new casino owners, where the show has been playing, are calling time on Le Razzle Dazzle, leaving Shelly disconsolate.
She has no idea what to do next and doesn’t embrace what she regards as the bump and grind of the new age revues.
At the same time, she tries to reconnect with her now adult, 22-year-old daughter, Hannah (Billie Lourd), who had a chequered upbringing.
Theirs is a strained relationship. Hannah struggles to forgive her mother for her choices.
Life is not easy for many of the players in this one, as they strive to keep their heads above water.
There are no beg pardons in The Last Showgirl and that is what makes it noteworthy and memorable.
Writer Kate Gersten, who makes her feature writing debut, has pulled no punches and the film is all the better for it.
Among the tinsel and confected glamour, everything is a scrap.
Director Gia Coppola (Francis Ford’s granddaughter and the co-writer and director of Palo Alto) does a fine job letting the material breathe, painting a hardened picture.
Cinematographer Autumn Durald Arkapaw (Black Panther: Wakanda Forever) taps into the unrelenting grind that is the Strip.
I also admire Natalie Ziering’s production design, which adds to The Last Showgirl’s authenticity.
And there’s a lot to be said for the music choices, with original numbers from Andrew Wyatt (Barbie).
But the star of the show is unquestionably Pamela Anderson, who has not only maintained an enviable figure, but excels in the lead.
She is particularly potent as the spirited and vulnerable Shelly who has had her fair share of knocks in her life. Her pain is evident.
The cast around her is really good too.
With muscularity of voice and demeanour, Dave Batista revels in his less is more, gentle giant, approach.
Jamie Lee Curtis presents as larger than life, gregarious and loud.
Kiernan Shipka brings naivete to Jodie, while Brenda Song lives in the moment, wise to the vagaries of an uncertain industry.
The Last Showgirl is certainly worthy of attention. The tarnish is on full display and I bought in.
Rated M, it scores an 8 to 8½ out of 10.
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