“The Last Showgirl” Analysis
Exploring Aging, Identity, and Glamour in the Showgirl’s World
I recently had the pleasure of watching The Last Showgirl, a drama film released in theaters this week, directed by Gia Coppola and written by Kate Gersten. The film stars one of my all-time favorites, Pamela Anderson, alongside Jamie Lee Curtis, Billie Lourd, Dave Bautista, Brenda Song, and Kiernan Shipka. It follows Shelly Gardner, a middle-aged Las Vegas showgirl, facing an uncertain future after learning that the revue she has performed in for three decades is closing. Adapted from Gersten's play Body of Work, the story draws inspiration from Jubilee! (the longest-running showgirl act in Las Vegas) before its 2016 closure.
Though hidden under glitz, glamour, sequins, and “razzle-dazzle,” this screenplay exceptionally explores themes of aging, a changing industry, and personal loss. Shelly’s experiences reflect the challenges of finding purpose when her lifelong identity as a showgirl is stripped away. Pamela Anderson’s character is scrutinized for her age–like when she auditions for a new show on the Las Vegas strip and is told by the director that she was only ever hired because she was “young” and “sexy,” or when younger dancers can't seem to understand the grown-up struggles she rambles about during quick changes. Her glamorous image of showbiz is portrayed as a delusion, but it’s her dream–it’s who Shelly is. In a powerful scene, Shelly screams, cries, and frantically rips up one of her costumes. She’s having a mental breakdown–an identity crisis. She’s losing the showgirl in her, and without it, who would she be?
The Complex Mother-Daughter Relationship
Shelly’s relationship with her daughter, Hannah, is pivotal to the show’s greatness. The portrayal of the characters is so real and raw, adding emotional depth to the film. In one scene, after watching The Razzle-Dazzle for the first time, Hannah visits Shelly in her dressing room. Filled with resentment, Hannah lashes out at Shelly, revealing that Shelly’s career as a showgirl prevented her from raising Hannah properly. Hannah refers to it as a “stupid nudie show,” but that’s not at all what it is–it’s Shelly’s dream.
Pamela Anderson's Masterful Performance
There is no one I can better imagine in the role of Shelly Gardner than Pamela Anderson. It’s almost as though Anderson isn’t playing Shelly–she is Shelly. Known for her own association with glamour and reinvention, she brings authenticity to the role. Just like Shelly, Anderson has lived many lives. From her time at Playboy to Pamela’s Garden of Eden, she’s been a Baywatch babe, animal rights activist, and international sex symbol.
"I've been handed a lot of scripts in my life, but never a challenge like this. You don't see parts like this when you're working in your bathing suit. I was so drawn to the character, I heard her voice in my head and pictured everything. I thought, 'Oh! This is that thing people talk about when they read material and know they have to do it'" (The San Francisco Chronicle).
The synergy between actress and character makes Anderson’s performance unforgettable. I was brought to tears just seeing Pamela Anderson’s face on the screen. I feel that both Shelly and Pamela Anderson have been misunderstood by the societies they exist in. Society has not taken Anderson seriously in terms of acting, and after years of public scrutiny, it was breathtaking to see her play a character who is misunderstood just like she is. Shelly is seen as a washed-up sex symbol when there is so much more to her than her sexuality.
Fashion as a Reflection of Identity
Quite possibly my favorite part of the film are the costumes; they played a crucial role in The Last Showgirl. Designed by Jacqui Getty, they served as both spectacular visuals and narrative tools. Many of the showgirl costumes were authentic pieces by Peter Menefee and Bob Mackie, directly tying the film to the legacy of classic Las Vegas revues. Feathered headdresses, sequin bodysuits, and rhinestone-encrusted capes brought the allure of vintage showbiz, which I adore, to life.
When Shelly wasn’t in her usual showgirl uniform, her costumes reflected her emotional state. In one scene, she wears a faded robe with traces of glitter, symbolizing the contrast between her past glory and the present vulnerability she’s facing. According to Jose Rodrigo in conversation with Harper’s Bazaar, “All of the off-duty wardrobe and costuming pieces were actually spearheaded by our other costume designer, Jacqui Getty, and our fantastic team of Andrew Parish and Maggie Ramos. They just wanted to showcase what it’s like to be a real working human being, because at the end of the day, these beautiful icons that you see onstage just go to the supermarket like we do, right? They order off of Amazon; they go to the shops and buy their tops.”
From the Las Vegas streets to the stage, the fashion transitions reflect Shelly’s journey. As the revue’s final performance approaches, her costume becomes an emblem of her resilience–it’s where she finds herself.
Cinematic Aesthetics of Las Vegas
Shot on location in Las Vegas, The Last Showgirl uses 16mm film to create a raw, intimate aesthetic. Cinematographer Autumn Durald Arkapaw employed handheld shots and custom anamorphic lenses to capture the grit and glamour of Shelly’s world. The imagery of the streets feels nostalgic, making Vegas look like my own hometown that I’m looking at years later, while the bright stage lights and shadowy backstage moments highlight the duality of the showgirl lifestyle.
The moments when the camera captures showgirl memorabilia are particularly fascinating. From snapshots of Shelly’s face on vintage Razzle-Dazzle advertisements to showgirl memorabilia and neon-light showgirl spreads around the city, the cinematography perfectly displays the showgirl as a dying art–maybe even an already dead one, that Shelly is holding on to. In addition, close-ups of Shelly’s expressive face pull the audience into her internal conflict. I’m obsessed with the shots of Pamela Anderson staring into the mirror, adjusting her smile, getting through the pain, and channeling the perfect showgirl that she values so much.
Jamie Lee Curtis’ Unexpected Dance
My favorite moment is Jamie Lee Curtis’ performance of Total Eclipse of the Heart in a casino. It wasn’t even scripted. Playwright Kate Gersten said in conversation with Entertainment Weekly, “That was one of the only things that was not in the script. Jamie saw one of the cocktail waitresses in the casino we were shooting in, talking to her, and we found out that cocktail waitresses who sing and dance get paid on a different scale. They have to perform three times in a shift. And so that's what Jamie saw. She really reached out to this one gal and talked to her about her experience. Then Gia said, ‘I got to get you up on one of those podiums to dance.’ Jamie said, ‘Well, if I go up there, it’s got to be to Total Eclipse of the Heart.’ We did one take, and Jamie improvised all of that dancing for the whole song one time, and it’s all in the movie.”
The moment was undeniably moving. It felt like I was watching a caterpillar transform into a butterfly, but there was something almost sad about it. Total Eclipse of the Heart is about a love affair that draws you in and won’t let you go, even though it would be good to get rid of it. The “total eclipse” refers to love overshadowing one’s life so much that the sun’s light is blocked out, leaving you in darkness. That makes the song seem perfect for Annette, Curtis’s character. She has this love for showbiz, for Vegas. Annette has so much potential, and it doesn’t seem like her waitressing job is what she loves, but still, she won’t give it up.
Final Thoughts: A Tribute to Glamour, Aging, and Resilience
While The Last Showgirl acknowledges the end of an era for Las Vegas showgirls, it also highlights the enduring power of love and friendship in the face of disappointment. Coppola’s vision and Anderson’s performance frame Vegas as both seductive and transient, a fitting backdrop for a story of fading dreams. The film offers a bittersweet exploration of ambition, loss, and acceptance. Shelly's final performance reflects her ability to embrace the spotlight one last time, even as her future remains uncertain. From Jamie Lee Curtis’s improvised dance to Total Eclipse of the Heart on a casino floor to Pamela Anderson tearing her costumes in a theater dressing room, I consider this film both aesthetic and narrative perfection.