Paul Verhoeven is perhaps one of the last great satirists. From dystopian cyborg Jesus allegories to sly
takedowns of American jingoism, he has always been a mirror to the American
now. His masterwork; the only NC-17 wide
release in American cinema history, Showgirls masquerades as a trashy
couture retread of All About Eve while
simultaneously deconstructing the myth of the American Dream. The result is an absolutely ridiculous dreamland
romp with lights brighter than imagined heavens and shadows conjured from the demons
of show business that remain alive and well today.
Nomi (played by Elizabeth Berkley) arrives in Las
Vegas with dreams of being a showgirl dancer. The film chronicles her rise from
lap dance mistress to topless performer icon. Berkley’s performance is the
lynchpin in Verhoeven’s subversive critique of obsessions with fame. It is apparent, almost immediately that
everyone in the cast, apart from Berkley is in on the joke. Gina Gershon, Kyle MacLachlan, Robert Davi,
and Glenn Plummer all revel in the dingy, back alley glitter storm on display
while Berkley approaches each of her scenes with a naïve sense of ferocity,
perfectly emulating the dream chasers who arrive in Hollywood everyday only to
become faded memories within months.
Robert Davi steals the show as Nomi's surrogate father
and first boss, a strip club owner. His dialogue with Berkeley forms the backbone
of the first act, which then build into an inorganic nightmare. Gina Gershon is
the foil, the current queen of the spotlight and her sexual chemistry with
Berkley is easily the film's most risqué delight. MacLachlan is the love
interest and he gives an appropriately wooden performance, supporting the
film's madcap structure while emulating the concept of the savior producer. MacLachlan is more an idea than an actual
character and it is this realization that drives home Verhoeven’s dissent. Plummer
rounds out the central players as Nomi's bodyguard, guardian angel, and 30
second dance Sensei who allows her to climb the ranks of stardom without actual
demonstration of discipline or talent, yet another reminder about the myths of success.
While a satire and a garbage pail twin of All About
Eve, Showgirls is clearly making several statements at once. Sexual
violence, sexual acrobatics, and sexual currency are all under the microscope,
disguised by the amazing costuming of Ellen Mirojnick and the luscious
cinematography of Jost Vacano. The film captures the essence behind the lights
of the of the city and presentss Nomi's story as a neon-induced, sexually
charged Alice in Wonderland, in which the monsters are men and the
rabbit is the idea of fame rather than its unpleasant realities.
The biggest weakness is also the film's greatest
strength. Joe Eszterhas' script is ludicrous; filled with memorable lines and preposterous
interactions. Berkley’s absolute commitment
to it is the centerpiece. She tries so hard to bring Nomi to life that she
rockets past affable and sexy into a dangerous caricature of desire and it only
helps to increase the potency of the film's seedy aphrodisiac veneer.
The third act tone change is another interesting
component, with Verhoeven reminding the viewers that underneath the glamour and
humor there are real victims and real pain that form the true foundation of the
moving lights that entertain. It is this
unexpected juxtaposition that makes, Showgirls a one of kind venture.
The audacity in its presentation is something that demands complete surrender
to its unpredictable, frivolous, and terrifying aspects, all of which are interchangeable
under Verhoeven’s masterful direction.
Showgirls is the
ultimate adult fairy tale that will forever be known for its colossal failure,
but it will always be remembered for its jaw dropping delivery. A beautiful
mess of a film.
--Kyle Jonathan