I’m assuming this fell foul of Oscar voters because it lacked a woke agenda. In fact, it’s distinctly anti-woke, the subject matter of women flaunting their bodies for dough, and a heroine who revels in it, going against the contemporary grain. And I know Demi Moore put on a more showy performance in The Substance (2024) but Pamela Anderson here demonstrates significantly more substance. Everything you’ve heard about her performance is true and you do wonder, far more than with Demi Moore, why some casting director didn’t alight on such talent which would have been ideal for a rom-com or drama as a put-upon character.
I’ve scarcely come across a more well-rounded character – and yes the script by Kate Gersten was an Oscar shut-out, too, but scripts are more than fancy-dancy lines or setting up woke agendas. There’s a just fabulous scene where ageing showgirl Shelly (Pamela Anderson) slams the door in the face of one of the young dancers coming to her for emotional support. Shelly is too wrapped up in other personal dilemmas at that point to cope. Up to now she’s been maternal to a pair of younger girls, Jodie (Kiernan Shipka) and Mary-Anne (Brenda Song), and happy to offer a shoulder to cry on.
But it’s two-way. The girls help her fix bits of her costume. Following the door-slamming episode, Jodie takes the hump and refuses to assist pre-show and Shelly come a bit unstuck.
But not only is Shelly a willing participant in male fantasy, she’s also poster girl for a female fantasy, that her body and somewhat limited talent will carry her through to old age (older age, she’s 57 now) and she can dwell on career highlights such as being feted by the media and corporations who ferried her across the world as some kind of brand ambassador.
Frankly, she’s not ready to face up to much – certainly not the end of her career, the show (Le Razzle Dazzle) is closing and her daughter Hannah (Billie Lourd) is not only challenging her perception that she was a good mother but derides her occupation.
The script is cleverly structured in a kind of Christmas Carol fashion. We’ve got before – Jodie and Mary-Anne the eager beavers with stars in their eyes. After is represented by the jaded older hard-drinking gambling addict Annette (Jamie Lee Curtis), reduced to cocktail waitress (a rather grand term for what she does) in a casino with her cleavage on show as a possible repository for tips.
Shelly has more than enough shades of character. She’s daffy, hard-nosed when the situation requires, manipulative (also when required), selfish, unselfish, fulfilled, unfulfilled, friendly, lonely. Turns out there’s still room for the exploitative show as long as striptease can be performed in post-ironic fashion, throw in some slapstick and bizarre comedy, and there’s demand for the straightforward Vegas showgirl but they need a good bit more dancing training than Shelly can muster – brutally taken apart in that scene.
Thankfully, director Gia Coppola (The Seven Faces of Jane, 2022) doesn’t go down the sentimental route, nor is she out to curry pity. You’ll sympathize with Shelly for sure, but you’ll hold back because her problems are all of her own making and you know full well that she’ll find some solution, manipulative or not, to her immediate problems.
If you’re looking to expend a bit of sympathy your better bet is Annette. The scene where, presumably as part of her job, she has to climb on to a mini-stage in the casino and gyrate to a tune with nobody paying the blind bit of notice resonates. Sharp-tongued though she is, Annette has the self-awareness to know she will always be broke, unable to kick her gambling addiction, even if it means losing her home and sleeping in her car.
Hannah’s really the only cliché, there as a scripting prop to make Shelly reassess her life (interestingly enough Shelly finds little to fault), and make her face up to her tawdry career. Though in a scene which makes some emotional sense – acceptance of parental failings, I guess, or pride at paternal skill – that I didn’t believe the daughter applauds her mother’s dancing having previously lambasted it.
This is old-school, from the time when you could make a whole film just about a character coming to the end of their career and facing up (or not, as here) to decisions made. It could be a football coach or a teacher or a politician. Here, it just happens to be a showgirl.
This would in any case have been the best performance of Pamela Anderson’s career because, frankly, that bar was set decidedly low. Demi Moore, by comparison, could at least point to some critical acceptance for roles like Ghost (1990) and A Few Good Men (1992). I don’t buy into the idea that box office stars are hard-done-by in not being offered Oscar-bait roles because as we’ve seen only too often any star can buy their way into a good role – by that I mean cutting their salary to the bone or spending their own dough to bring a picture to fruition, it’s what the term “vanity project” was invented for.
Still, with what Pamela Anderson presents here, shorn not so much of make-up but the glossy sleekness of her previous screen persona, and presenting a more realistic characterization, you could see her fitting well into a series of more demanding roles.
Yes, for once, the reviews are correct. Well worth seeing.
The Magnificent 60s 