The Last Showgirl (2025)
The Last Showgirl follows Shelly, played by Pamela Anderson, a veteran Las Vegas showgirl whose long-standing revue, Le Razzle Dazzle, abruptly closes. With her career at an unexpected standstill, Shelly faces an uncertain future, strained relationships, and the emotional weight of being sidelined by a world that once celebrated her. As she struggles to find purpose beyond the stage, she is forced to reconcile with her estranged daughter, Hannah (Billie Lourd), and confront the sacrifices she made in pursuit of a fleeting dream.
Set against the backdrop of contemporary Las Vegas, the film reflects the city’s transition from the golden era of classic showgirl performances to a more modern, commercialised entertainment industry. Shelly’s predicament mirrors the broader reality of ageing performers left behind in an evolving landscape, where nostalgia for the past clashes with the demands of the present. The film explores themes of reinvention, resilience, and the cost of dedicating one’s life to an art form that may no longer have a place in mainstream culture.
Pamela Anderson delivers a deeply personal and emotionally grounded performance, portraying Shelly with a mix of vulnerability and defiance. She brings a lived-in authenticity to the role, capturing both the allure and the loneliness of a performer at the end of her career. Jamie Lee Curtis, as Annette, a former showgirl turned cocktail waitress, provides a sharp contrast with her sardonic wit and world-weary wisdom. Dave Bautista, playing Eddie, the compassionate stage manager, adds an understated warmth, grounding the film with his quiet presence.
Director Gia Coppola approaches the material with a contemplative eye, allowing the story to unfold organically. While this lends an air of authenticity, it also results in moments where the pacing drags, testing our patience, especially those of us expecting a more tightly structured narrative. The cinematography by Autumn Durald Arkapaw leans into muted tones, creating a contrast between the neon-soaked energy of the Vegas strip and the dimly lit dressing rooms where dreams have long since faded.
The visual aesthetic reinforces the duality of Shelly’s existence. Onstage, the colours are rich, vibrant, and dazzling, symbolising the fantasy she clings to. Offstage, the palette shifts to desaturated hues, mirroring the harsh reality she must confront. The production design captures the worn glamour of old Vegas, from the fading marquees to the peeling wallpaper of forgotten performance halls, underscoring the film’s meditative tone.
The film relies more on atmosphere than spectacle, with minimal special effects, instead using lighting and set design to immerse us in Shelly’s world. The editing reflects her emotional state, with long, lingering shots that highlight her isolation and abrupt cuts that disrupt moments of introspection. While this technique enhances the film’s intimate feel, it also contributes to a slower pacing that may not appeal to all audiences.
Dialogue is naturalistic, peppered with the kind of casual banter and weary wisdom that comes with years in the industry. Conversations between Shelly and her former colleagues reveal layers of shared history, regret, and camaraderie. Some exchanges, however, lean too heavily on familiar tropes, occasionally diminishing the impact of more poignant moments.
The soundtrack, a mix of classic Vegas tunes and original compositions, complements the film’s mood. Miley Cyrus’s closing song, Beautiful That Way, encapsulates the bittersweet nostalgia at the heart of the story, leaving me with a lasting impression.
Comparisons can be drawn to films like Darren Aronofsky’s The Wrestler, which also examines the fading relevance of an ageing performer. While both stories explore the emotional and physical toll of careers in entertainment, The Last Showgirl adopts a more restrained, introspective approach, focusing on quiet moments of self-reflection rather than dramatic confrontations.
The Last Showgirl offers a poignant meditation on ageing, identity, and the pursuit of passion in an unforgiving industry. Anderson’s performance is the film’s greatest strength, bringing depth and nuance to a character whose struggles feel authentic and deeply human. While the film’s measured pacing and occasional narrative stumbles prevent it from reaching its full potential, it remains a thoughtful exploration of what it means to redefine oneself when the curtain falls. If you are drawn to character-driven dramas and understated storytelling, The Last Showgirl is worth watching, even if it doesn’t entirely dazzle.