Films: The show can’t go on for this girl

Pamela Anderson, a name synonymous with 1990s pop culture, is best known for her role as C.J. Parker on Baywatch. She quickly became one of the most recognised TV stars of the era, her image immortalised in red swimsuits and sun-kissed waves.

However, her career has had its ups and downs. Anderson’s personal life, including her high-profile relationships, became one of the big talking points of the ’90s. Eventually, she left the screen to focus on her work as an outspoken animal rights activist.

With her documentary series and a recent memoir, Anderson is reshaping her legacy from being seen as a busty blonde bombshell to a figure of resilience. She is back on our big screens in The Last Showgirl, directed by Gia Coppola of the renowned filmmaking dynasty.

It unfolds in the vibrant and dazzling streets of Las Vegas, where the relentless neon lights reflect a world of dreams and faded aspirations. At the heart of this tale is Shelly, portrayed by Anderson, a spirited 50-something dancer who has spent decades in the spotlight of showgirl show La Razzle Dazzle.

This once-renowned extravaganza epitomised the glitz of the Vegas Strip. Now, as the show struggles to capture the magic of its heyday, it is a bittersweet reminder of a bygone era.

At 57, Shelly is not merely the oldest dancer in her troupe; she is the dazzling queen of this dwindling kingdom. With a twinkle in her eye, she relishes every aspect of the performance - the intoxicating sparkle of the rhinestones, the elaborate and glamorous costumes, and the vibrant sets that transport the audience into a fantasy. For Shelly, the stage isn’t just a platform; it’s her sanctuary.

The unintentional matriarch of younger dancers, including Jodie (Kiernan Shipka) and Mary-Anne (Brenda Song), Shelly guides them pragmatically.

For Jodie and Mary-Anne, the allure of showbiz has dulled; they see the performance as simply a career - a nudie show with a touch more glam than its counterparts. To them, it represents a means to an end, a way to pay the bills. They aren’t ashamed to be in a topless show but aren’t happy about it. Shelly can’t understand their perspective.

Off stage, she doesn’t have much to show for her life - a failed marriage and estranged daughter, Hannah (Billie Lourd) - but that’s OK. The stage is more than just her job; it’s her lifeline and her identity.

When the show’s stage manager, Eddie (Dave Bautista), announces that it is too close in a couple of weeks, it feels like the ground beneath her crumbles. This isn’t simply a loss of employment; it’s stripping away her essence, the only life she has ever loved.

While the others mourn the potential loss of income, Shelly is engulfed by profound devastation. She reminisces about the show’s origins, tracing its roots back to Paris. Her eyes mist as she recalls nights of grandeur playing to raucous, sold-out crowds, even touring the world in the Razzle’s rhinestones.

Shelly longs for the days when the allure of glamour reigned supreme. In a world increasingly sceptical of such performances, where they are often dismissed as mere spectacles for the lewd and the voyeuristic, Shelly defends the artform. Her arguments, which younger dancers reject, present a perspective that challenges the contemporary view.

To most people, the shows are a relic, but if the show is a relic, does that mean Shelly is one, too?

Shelly’s good friend, Annette (Jamie Lee Curtis), was once a dancer. Now considered over-the-hill, she works as a cocktail waitress, but age becomes a barrier as she loses work to younger staff .

As Shelly contemplates what life might be like when Le Razzle Dazzle closes, her daughter Hannah attempts to reconnect with her. But will it be enough to fill the gap left by a lifetime of feathers and rhinestones?

This beautifully shot film offers a soft, hazy view of Las Vegas. Coppola pays close attention to detail; there are always lingering flecks of glitter on Shelly’s skin, even when she is off stage, a fact any glitter is familiar with.

Anderson brings a vibrant energy and deep belief to her character, marking this role as a significant highlight in her career and showcasing what she can achieve when challenged.

However, the story can sometimes feel slight and repetitive.

Despite this, it remains worth watching, thanks to Anderson’s compelling performance and the ever-relevant topic of what becomes of a woman when society sees her as too old.

The Last Showgirl, in cinemas, now, cert 15a, ***