I find myself disagreeing with the prevailing sentiment that this film is mere trash, even though I can see how certain elements are clearly designed to provoke that exact reaction. 😁.
To me, this film is nothing if not brutally honest. It depicts the world of Las Vegas showgirls in a literal sense, completely devoid of any Hollywood gloss or subtle pretension. If anyone else had stepped into the role of Nomi Malone, she wouldn't have been nearly as captivating as Elizabeth Berkley was. The complexity of this character feels very much like the types of figures we’ve seen in the works of Ridley Scott lately. She isn't some saint being ushered to a throne by some karmic force or youthful magic; she possesses her own distinct, flawed character. She isn't a villain, but she certainly isn't a pushover either—she's human. In my opinion, Elizabeth delivered a magnificent performance. Furthermore, I have encountered certain pedantic critiques regarding the exploitation of the female body. When viewed through the lens of the countless exploitative films produced by Hollywood, those arguments feel so hypocritical at multiple levels that it is frankly redundant to even list or discuss them. The problem—and simultaneously the charm—of this film is that it lacks subtlety; it is raw, presenting the actual reality of showgirls in Las Vegas. These endless debates about exploitation seem to be little more than fodder and funding for certain parasitic directors who feel the need to justify their own existence. For me, every single scene worked, including the nudity and that now-iconic, cult-classic sex scene in the pool. 😁 To me, cinema is a true art form, and I found myself drawn to this film precisely because of its emotional resonance. Even after ten years, I can revisit it with the same level of engagement that most movies simply fail to sustain over time. My appreciation isn't rooted in the nudity, but rather in how convincing the narrative is; it’s engaging and even humorous at times, largely because the character of Nomi Malone herself is such a tragicomic figure. One of my personal favorites has to be the sequence involving her facial expressions when she confronts the man who assaulted her friend. I have read accounts suggesting that even Tarantino’s work was initially met with skepticism, much like how critics seem to only recognize the true value of certain films in retrospect. While the nudity is certainly present, it serves as a backdrop to highlight the hypocrisy of society. If it is indeed true that the actress faced public harassment due to the role, then the film clearly struck a nerve, successfully exposing societal vulnerabilities—an achievement many more "prestigious" films fail to accomplish. Furthermore, from a metaphorical standpoint, Nomi’s journey represents the struggle of an average actress whose parents lack connections in the film industry, forcing her to navigate a difficult path toward stardom without any safety net.
I found this critique quite compelling:
s ***
"If you want it, you'd better be prepared to pay the price." — That's the line from the club bouncer in *Showgirls*.
*Showgirls* is a fascinating piece of cinema, though I suspect it will take many more years before the general public truly begins to appreciate its nuances. The fundamental issue regarding Paul Verhoeven is that most viewers fail to recognize him as a satirist. All his films shot outside of the Netherlands are intensely satirical and not meant to be taken at face value. In *Showgirls*, specifically, he draws upon elements from *All About Eve* and *42nd Street* to deconstruct those idealistic Hollywood fantasies that audiences have been conditioned to accept as reality.
It seems we often misinterpret Verhoeven's true objective. His critique isn't actually aimed at Hollywood or American crassness itself; rather, he is taking aim at those morally questionable "A Star Is Born" narratives that we find so captivating. The audience isn't being penalized for their desire to witness sex and nudity. Instead, the cinematic punishment is reserved for our collective longing to see Nomi succeed. The film serves as a sobering commentary suggesting that in a crass society, any semblance of success is fundamentally bankrupt. By clinging to such a hollow pipe dream, we are doing nothing more than fueling a massive, unsightly machine.
Nomi Malone, the lead in *Showgirls*, doesn't feel like a fully realized character to me. It’s more like she is a piece of timber—not because she lacks acting ability, per se, but because she functions merely as fuel. She exists solely to be consumed and ignited by the neon-soaked atmosphere surrounding her. Her journey takes her from strip clubs to dance clubs to legitimate theaters, and at every single turn, she is being exploited. The most striking part, however, is that she seems to embrace it.
As the credits roll, I find myself struck by a profound sense of melancholy rather than humor regarding Nomi's trajectory. There is something deeply unsettling about the realization that she is destined to repeat her previous errors. Despite the myth being deconstructed time and again, she remains inexplicably drawn to it, lured back into the same cycle. I am reminded of the inexpensive plastic trinkets found in a Happy Meal. A child can intuitively sense that the toy is of incredibly poor quality, yet the compulsion to acquire the next one in the set remains irresistible. Why does this happen? It is because, in the eyes of a child, the mere essence of a toy represents play and excitement, regardless of its actual substance or value.
"Showgirls" addresses this exact illusion. The toy is garbage. It’s hollow and leaves you wanting, but we chase after it simply because we can't find fulfillment in our current reality or our current circumstances.
"Showgirls" functions as an intensely symbolic piece as well. The song titles correspond to Nomi Malone's apartment numbers, and every job she accepts drags her one step deeper into a personal hell—which, ironically, is precisely what she is striving for. She undergoes a symbolic death and rebirth; that iconic lapdance is filmed to echo the pool sex scene, and the story concludes with Nomi physically battered and, perhaps more significantly, even more oblivious than when she started. Then there is her supposed "ideal man" (foreshadowed by a billboard in the opening) who reveals himself to be nothing more than a predatory brute by the final act. This concept of being punished for one's own "fantasies" runs through the entire narrative and is structured so that the audience becomes an active participant. Initially, we are titillated, but by the credits, the constant sexual imagery has numbed us, leaving us reeling in genuine disgust.
Regarding its stylistic approach, the film is deliberately excessive. It is loud, crude, and aggressively colorful. Nomi herself presents her body to the viewer in a way that feels pathetically forced. The director isn't trying to arouse us; rather, he wants us to feel pity for her desperation, her lack of authenticity, the garish smudges of her makeup, and the frantic, hopeless movements of her body. Nomi is naive, constantly pleading for our validation. Consequently, Verhoeven subjects the viewer to a sensory overload of sight and sound, all engineered to dull our senses. We emerge from the theater feeling intellectually stunted, unaroused, and poetically blind to the very truths the film just laid bare.
The most effective satires often provoke the most irrational hatred, and "Showgirls" is certainly no exception. However, the distinction here is that the nudity, the sex, and the general tacky "guilty pleasure" aesthetic prevent the film from being critically re-evaluated or even truly embraced. I suspect future generations, having become desensitized to pervasive nudity and pornography, might find this film much easier to digest.
I did notice one exceptional shot that brought Orson Welles to mind. It happens when Nomi sits on a park bench near a bustling thoroughfare. While the bench occupies the foreground, the perspective is manipulated to make the surrounding Las Vegas skyline look dwarfed and insignificant.
From a technical standpoint, the cinematography is actually quite impeccable. Verhoeven’s camera work is precise, featuring several stunning steadicam and crane sequences.
7.5/10—A compelling satire that is intentionally campy, cartoonish, and heightened. Even though certain moments feel somewhat tasteless, the film as a whole seems to grow on you with subsequent viewings. One should pay close attention to the scene where children walk innocently through a theater surrounded by nude women. Moments later, a woman lets out a violent curse, leaving the children and their mother visibly shaken. Verhoeven’s message is unmistakable: profanity, violence, and exploitation are far more offensive than any naked breast..
