There’s a snowman threesome, a chili dog autopsy, and a sonic weapon disguised as a podcast mic. So yes, The Naked Gun reboot is funny. But it’s also a little too pleased with itself—like a whoopee cushion that keeps deflating before the punchline lands.
Liam Neeson plays Frank Drebin Jr. with the kind of deadpan sincerity that made Leslie Nielsen a legend. He’s game, and often very good, especially when the film leans into the absurdity of his action-star legacy. But the gags—while plentiful—rarely escalate. They’re clever, not delirious. You chuckle, but you don’t lose control.
Pamela Anderson, however, is a revelation. As Beth Davenport, nightclub singer and possible double agent, she’s sultry, silly, and strangely soulful. Her recent turn in The Last Showgirl (2024) earned her Golden Globe and SAG nominations, and rightly so: it was a quiet, aching portrait of ageing and reinvention. That film, along with her Broadway debut in Chicago and the Netflix doc Pamela, A Love Story, marked a pivot from icon to artist. Here, she channels that history—her own and the franchise’s—with a wink and a scat solo. It’s weird, it’s wonderful, and it’s hers.
The villain? A tech billionaire with a fleet of driverless cars and a plan to mind-control the masses via audio content. It’s a trope that’s gaining traction—see Free Guy, The Old Guard, or even Glass Onion. These characters aren’t just plot devices; they’re cultural barometers. The tech bro as villain reflects a growing unease with unchecked innovation, performative altruism, and the erosion of public trust. In The Naked Gun, it’s played for laughs, but the satire lands because it’s rooted in something real: our suspicion that the people selling us the future might be the ones stealing the present.
Ehe film is affectionate, uneven, and occasionally inspired. It doesn’t quite match the anarchic brilliance of Naked Gun 2½, but it knows its lineage—and it knows its audience. If you’re willing to forgive a few flat notes, there’s joy to be found in the chaos.
The neon-lit stages of Las Vegas shine brightly. They contrast with the dim corridors of fading dreams. The Last Showgirl takes viewers on a deeply affecting journey. It delves into the lives of those who once dazzled in the spotlight.
A Story of Reinvention in a Precarious Industry
At its heart, The Last Showgirl is a film about transition—both personal and cultural. Shelly has spent decades in the spotlight. She suddenly faces the harsh reality of an industry that discards women once they are no longer deemed marketable. But the film also highlights the broader financial precarity of those working in entertainment. As Le Razzle Dazzle closes, Shelly and her colleagues are left without pensions, savings, or even medical insurance. This serves as a stark reminder of how vulnerable performers can be when their careers are upended.
This sense of insecurity extends beyond the stage. One of Shelly’s closest friends is Annette, who is played by Jamie Lee Curtis. She works as a cocktail waitress and finds herself in an equally precarious situation. Struggling with gambling debts, she ultimately resorts to sleeping in her car. This subplot is devastating. It underscores how quickly fortunes can turn in an industry that offers glamour but little long-term stability. Coppola’s direction ensures that these economic concerns are integral to the story. They are not just background noise. These elements make The Last Showgirl feel both personal and politically charged.
Pamela Anderson’s Career-Defining Performance
Anderson’s portrayal of Shelly is nothing short of revelatory. She is long known for her work in Baywatch and as a Hollywood sex symbol. She channels her own experiences with objectification into a performance brimming with vulnerability. The performance also exudes strength and emotional depth. Anderson herself has commented, “I poured my heart and soul into this role. Shelly’s journey is so deeply personal to me.”
Echoes of Sunset Boulevard
Coppola’s film draws clear comparisons to Billy Wilder’s Sunset Boulevard (1950). It is another story about a woman past her prime. She struggles to stay relevant in an industry that has moved on. Like Norma Desmond, Shelly Gardner has built her life around performance. When that world vanishes, she is left grappling with an identity crisis. Yet, where Sunset Boulevard delves into psychological horror and self-delusion, The Last Showgirl takes a more grounded, empathetic approach. Shelly is not a relic clinging to faded glory. She is a survivor. She is painfully aware of the changing landscape. She is determined to find a way ahead. The contrast between Desmond’s tragic retreat into fantasy and Shelly’s determined path is fascinating. Shelly’s path is uncertain, but it leads toward reinvention.
Thematic Depth: Ageism, Economic Precarity, and the Male Gaze
Beyond its intimate character study, The Last Showgirl raises broader social and political questions. The film starkly portrays ageism in entertainment. It highlights how women are often discarded. In contrast, male performers continue to be celebrated well into old age. Shelly struggles to find new opportunities. This reflects the economic precarity of performers. Their careers are at the mercy of industry trends.
Moreover, The Last Showgirl critiques the male gaze and the commodification of women’s bodies. Shelly built her career on beauty, movement, and allure. Now, she faces an existential question. Who is she beyond her stage persona? This theme affects her personal life too. She tries to mend her fractured relationship with her estranged daughter (Billie Lourd). This subplot adds emotional weight to the narrative.
Gia Coppola’s Directorial Style
Gia Coppola’s direction is both intimate and expansive. Her previous works, like Palo Alto (2013), showcased her ability to delve deep into character psychology. She can keep a broader social commentary as well. In The Last Showgirl, Coppola uses a visual style to show Shelly’s internal struggle. She creates stark contrasts between the glitzy past and the uncertain present.
Contemporary Issues in the Entertainment Industry
The Last Showgirl resonates with today’s entertainment industry’s ongoing struggles. The film’s portrayal of economic insecurity and ageism reflects actual conversations about fair wages. It highlights discussions around career longevity and the treatment of aging performers. The industry’s shift towards digital and commercialized content also finds echoes in Coppola’s depiction of a changing Las Vegas.
Conclusion
Despite a mixed critical reception, The Last Showgirl succeeds in delivering a deeply affecting portrait of resilience and self-redefinition. The film’s depiction of financial insecurity elevates it beyond a simple character study. The portrayal of the struggles of aging performers makes it a relevant social critique. Pamela Anderson’s performance is the heart of the film. She offers a raw and introspective take on a woman grappling with change. Thematically rich and visually evocative, The Last Showgirl is rich in themes and colours. It is a must-watch for those who appreciate films that challenge industry norms.
