The Last Showgirl
Suddenly 57 and adrift, she scrambles for work – facing the stark possibility of joining the cocktail waitress ranks like her longtime friend Annette (Jamie Lee Curtis) – while also wrestling with the guilt of a daughter (Billie Lourd) she hasn’t seen in years.
Under Gia Coppola’s direction, the film drifts between ethereal daydreams and sobering reality. Soft-focus film stock, jewel-toned feathers, and cascading lights capture the Strip’s hypnotic allure, but Coppola peels back the glitter to reveal the industry’s unflinching ageism and the personal cost of life in the spotlight. A brief, blunt audition scene – featuring Jason Schwartzman as a no-nonsense casting director – lands with a punch: it’s one thing to lose a job, another to be told you simply don’t fit in anymore.
Anderson plays The Last Showgirl with an intriguing blend of emotion and vulnerability. She’s at her most magnetic in moments of raw honesty – lying about her age at auditions, confiding in her producer Eddie (played by Dave Bautista), or leaving a panicked voicemail that pulls her estranged daughter back into her life. Bautista, too, shines: his Eddie is both cheerleader and realist, offering Shelly support while reminding her of the practicality that showbiz dreams often ignore.
The film’s supporting cast – especially Kiernan Shipka and Brenda Song as the hungry, younger showgirls underscore Shelly’s existential crisis. Their fresh-faced energy contrasts sharply with her world-worn grace, and their presence highlights the cycle of reinvention that Las Vegas demands. Coppola’s script occasionally skims the surface, and some secondary storylines could have used deeper exploration, but the film never loses sight of its core: a woman reckoning with the life she chose and the family she left behind.
The Last Showgirl is a pensive, heartfelt nod to aging, ambition, and motherhood under neon lights. It may not reinvent the Vegas movie, but it offers a moving showcase for Anderson’s untapped dramatic chops and a reminder that, sometimes, the hardest act is knowing when to take your final bow.
Visually, the film is a feast of saturated hues and soft glows, while the haunting score by Xander Rodzinyuk showcases Shelly’s emotional moments, which are sometimes buoyant, sometimes mournful. Coppola’s careful pacing allows these moments to breathe, giving the audience space to feel the bittersweet pull of nostalgia and the sting of unfulfilled dreams. In the end, The Last Showgirl may not dazzle with high-octane spectacle, but it lingers in the heart long after the lights dim, celebrating resilience in a city built on illusion.
Catch it in select cinemas or stream now on Amazon Prime.
