Misunderstood Masterpieces: Showgirls
Posted by Will Helm on 01.05.2004
…or, Greatest. Line. Ever.
And so it’s come to this.
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you what I consider the WORST film ever made: 1995’s Showgirls. What can I say about this movie that hasn’t already been said? Well . . . hopefully quite a bit, otherwise this will be a very short column. I suppose that a little background is in order. This legendarily lascivious waste of film stems from the fertile imaginations of none other than two of the founding members of the Misunderstood Masterpieces Hall of Fame: director Paul Verhoeven and screenwriter Joe Eszterhas. Whereas their work separately is reason enough for their induction in that esteemed institution, Showgirls shall forever stand as their magnum opus, their coup de grace, their piéce de crap. I can’t adequately delve into the background of this film properly and I’m sure it’s been covered ad nauseum anyway, so I suppose I’ll just tell you about my background in relation to this film.
My first encounter with this film was in college, where I saw its infamous “red-band” trailer prior to the movie Clockers. I had heard early word about this picture beforehand, in particular how bad it was supposed to be, and the trailer gave little hope that the contrary was true. My next exposure to the film was from an underwhelming pictorial hyping the movie in the October 1995 issue of Playboy, which also featured the Girls of the Ivy League. Quite a contradiction, wouldn’t you say? After its release, the film, which happened to be the highest budget NC-17 film ever, flopped at the box office due to a combination of skittish distributors and (mainly) its own awfulness. The picture slipped from my consciousness for the remainder of my college year not to return until my summer job . . . the aforementioned-in-these-pages video rental place with the shirts. You know the one. Near the end of my summer break and my time of employment at that establishment, I decided to take advantage of one of the perks of the job and rent Showgirls for free. What can I say? I was a cheap, hormonally excitable, and curious teenager. So, after renting the video version of this film and popping it into my VCR - ah, the olden days before the wonder that is DVD - what I did next still surprises me to this day: after about forty minutes of sheer, mind-numbing torture, I shut off the movie. I, a virile young man watching a movie featuring copious amounts of female nudity, turned it off because it was just too bad to hold my interest. Sad, huh? It would be years until I finally completed the film . . . and it was still bad. I hope you don’t mind if I share my pain with you; I’m evil like that.
Somewhere in America, a girl walks forcefully. Wait! It’s not just any girl, but TV’s Jessie Spano (Elizabeth Berkley)! I guess the breakup with Slater didn’t go too well . . . or was it Zack? In any event, Jessie is hightailing it out of wherever she is, which happens to be about 350 miles from Las Vegas. She doesn’t spend long hitchhiking, though, because minutes after she outstretches her thumb, a wannabe Elvis in a pickup truck stops to give her a ride. His name is Jeff (Dewey Weber) and he must (in Jessie’s world) get a little too fresh with his riding mate as she pulls a switchblade on him and uses the opportunity to commandeer the radio. It turns out that her name isn’t Jessie Spano, but Nomi Malone, and she’s going to Vegas to “dance.” Come on now . . . we all know what really goes on in Vegas, don’t we? Mainly a bunch of retirees slowly gambling away their life savings and eating at buffets - but don’t tell Mr. Verhoeven or Mr. Eszterhas.
In Vegas, Nomi and Jeff make some foreshadowing small talk about gambling and winning and losing and then they head to a casino. Jeff gives Nomi $10 to play the slot machines while he goes off to do some business. Nomi instantly wins a good bit of money, but loses it all just as quickly . . . and then she gets propositioned by some sleazy guy. Ah, Vegas. Minutes later, she has a revelation (that she’s an idiot, to be precise) and she freaks out, runs across the Las Vegas strip, realizes Jeff and his pickup are gone, beats up some random black girl’s car, and then pukes. Whew. This is one busy night so far. Oddly enough, the random black girl takes pity on poor Nomi and befriends her over a burger, while Nomi freaks out again for no particular reason. You should get used to this sight; it happens quite often.
Even though Nomi initially thinks that her new friend Molly (Gina Ravera) is a lesbian hooker, they share a trailer on the outskirts of town. Molly, an intelligent and hard-working costume designer for some overproduced Las Vegas stage show, brings Nomi to work with her. It seems that wannabe-dancer Nomi and her puny mind are so impressed by the stage show that she actually apes the dancers’ moves while in the audience. Now, I really have to ask . . . are these shows really as overproduced and schlocky as they appear in this film? All I can gather is that the shows are comprised of pointless dancing, lots of special effects, and breasts. Has anyone out there actually been to one of these shows and, if so, not laughed hysterically? Just curious. Of course, this all leads up to the grand climax, where the star of the show, Cristal Connors (Gina Gershon), emerges from a very fake erupting volcano while the PA announcer - ahem - announces her arrival and the crowd gets all excited like they know who she is or something. Surely this can’t be serious.
After the show, some old guy brags about passing over LaToya and Suzanne (who?) for Cristal, because she’s sexy and she’s a star. Whatever, dirty old man. Moments later, the casino’s entertainment director, Zach Carey (Kyle “Spice” MacLachlan), brings a bursting bouquet for Ms. Connors. After the afterparty, Molly brings in Nomi to meet with Cristal. Nomi confides to the diva that she’s a “dancer” at The Cheetah, to which Cristal calls her out for being a “stripper.” Now, here’s an interesting semantic dilemma: should they be referred to as “dancers” or “strippers”? My feeling is that those in question do far more dancing than stripping, so therefore the former is the proper term. Then again, why does it matter? Sorry for the digression. After Cristal’s pointed retort, Nomi freaks out and gets indignant about her line of work, storming out of the dressing room in a huff. Outside the casino, Molly, in order to make amends (even though everything was Nomi’s fault to begin with), takes Nomi to a club as an act of reconciliation. So what we can gather from this is that Nomi has anger-management problems and Molly has co-dependency issues. Good to know.
At the club, the film’s official Helpful Black Man, James Smith (Glenn Plummer), offers to dance with Nomi. He also uses the opportunity to teach her how to dance, because he’s just that helpful. Nomi misinterprets his generosity and replies by kicking him in the crotch, which leads to a fight . . . and she revels in the scene of chaos. So she’s inherently evil then? That’s an interesting twist. Nomi gets herself arrested and James gets fired, because he just happened to be a bouncer at the club. Oops. James, because he’s helpful, bails out Nomi for no discernible reason but she spurns his advances. James, be careful man . . . that girl is trouble with a capital “T.”
Over at The Cheetah, that respectable establishment, there’s surprising camaraderie among the dancers. Go figure . . . I would’ve expected catfights and name-calling. More on that later. The only guy in the history of cinema to ever make sleaze cool, Al Torres (Robert Davi), introduces a new young lamb named Hope to the slaughter, which leads to a revelation regarding the origins of stage names and the ethics of lap dances. Meanwhile, Cristal and Zach arrive at the club, cheerily coked up. Inside, the rowdy crowd heckles an unfunny overweight emcee. I guess The Cheetah missed the memo about burlesque being dead for about eighty years or so. So the matron exits, stage left (or right . . . I don’t remember which) which brings us to the moment we’ve all been waiting for: Jessie Spano naked! Honestly, Jessie . . . what would Mr. Belding think? Although, knowing that pervert, he and Screech are probably in the back room watching two dancers simulate intercourse, all the while calling them “Lisa” and “Kellie.” Come on . . . you just know it’s true. Anyway, Nomi, lithesome lass that she is, lasciviously licks the pole, which causes a gaggle of Japanese men to celebrate while Zach and Cristal watch intently. Meanwhile, I wonder just how bad that must taste. And then, for no reason whatsoever, Nomi freaks out again and storms offstage. I guess she forgot to take her medication again.
In the dressing room, Nomi and Al argue about a nightie while, outside, James the Helpful Black Man shows up. Isn’t that wonderfully convenient? On the floor, Cristal buys Zach a private dance with the apprehensive Nomi for $500. Drew Carey would not be proud. In the back room, Cristal watches and snorts coke and James the Helpful Black Man peeks in as there’s TENSION for no particular reason. Nomi goes completely starkers and starts seemingly flirting with Cristal while grinding on Zach’s lap; that’s got to make him feel wanted. It’s not all bad, though, as Nomi then turns to face him and has a seizure so erotic it causes Zach to orgasm. And, of course, later Nomi is upset for some reason or another. Chill out, girl!
The next day, the Helpful Black Man knocks on Molly’s trailer door. It turns out that he’s a classically trained dancer and he wants to partner with Nomi but she just sasses back at him. I don’t know why he offers to help so much . . . oh yeah, it’s because he’s the Helpful Black Man. Nomi, once again, freaks out. Later, Molly and Nomi go shopping for ugly ‘90s fashions. Nomi buys an overpriced Versace piece of crap while Molly celebrates because a Christopher Lambert look-a-like named Andrew Carver is coming to town and she’s like his biggest fan because he’s like so totally dreamy like totally. Ahem. Back at The Cheetah, Nomi and Hope perform an emotionally riveting all-nude duo show onstage. Something like that can really take a lot out of you, dancer and audience alike. Afterwards, some effeminate guy with a tacky gold chain invites Nomi to an audition at the Stardust. This opportunity makes her so happy that she smacks the sides of her head rather violently. Yeah, she’s psycho.
At the audition, the producer, Tony Moss (Alan Rachins), a self-proclaimed prick, orders the dancers’ tops to come off after the first number and cut. He focuses on Nomi and orders her to play with her nipples, which supposedly are less than perky. During the course of their exchange, Tony utters the Greatest Line EVER™:
“I’m erect. Why aren’t you erect?”
Just read it a few times and let it sink in. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, comes close to the sheer brilliance of that line. Hard-hitting stuff, to be sure. Moments later, Tony offers Nomi some ice to aid in rectifying her little problem(s); Nomi, as per her character, slaps the ice out of his hands, freaks out, and storms out of the audition. That’ll look REALLY good on your résumé, girlie. Don’t blame everyone around you for your disagreeable nipples. In the Stardust dressing room, Nomi and Cristal have a heart-to-heart while it is insinuated that Cristal is maddeningly attracted to Nomi. Because I would really want to be attracted to a raving lunatic.
Elsewhere, the Helpful Black Man is now a bellhop at some casino; not for long, as he quits his newfound job in order to talk with Nomi yet again. If he’s not more careful, she’s just going to ruin his life. He does finally win over her trust, but not before he realizes that she’s insanely self-centered. He takes her to his place where they rehearse a number that he wrote inspired by her. Damn . . . not only is he helpful, he’s also pretty damned smooth too. That’s probably one of the best pickup ideas I’ve ever seen. And, not surprisingly, since he is the Helpful (and Smooth) Black Man, they make out, but her menses put a stop to going any further, even though James is willing. He does contend that he has towels. Ooh . . . erotic. Moments later, James unwisely proclaims his love for Nomi and then she leaves. Why do I have a feeling that won’t turn out good?
Nomi, in a plot twist that surprises no one but her, gets a gig in the show. She quits The Cheetah dramatically while Al makes fun of her. James, meanwhile, becomes dejected at the news; he, being Helpful, wants her to do something more with her life . . . to take advantage of her innate talents. Of course, it’s NOT helpful that he’s screwing around with Hope. Oops. At the Stardust, Nomi meets with Mr. Moss while wearing her Versace dress. It’s sad . . . nowadays, whenever I see Donatella Versace, I can’t help but think of Maya Rudolph’s awesome impersonation of the rather frightening designer. Anyway, Tony introduces Nomi to the rest of the crew and she bonds instantaneously with the choreographer. I mean, it’s almost covalent. Umm . . . sorry about that one. Afterwards, Zach and the effeminate guy make small talk with Nomi and then the gay football coach, who may also be the choreographer, yells at her. Later that night, monkeys run wild in the dressing room and then a catfight breaks out. Nomi, unfazed by the chaos, ices her nipples and watches Cristal longingly . . . and then the goofy dance number breaks out again.
After the show, Nomi and Molly celebrate and then James arrives to try to explain himself. It turns out, lo and behold, that he’s a sex addict . . . although he didn’t lie to Nomi about his number. Moments later, Zach drives up in his Ferrari, which makes James very jealous. The next day, Nomi and Cristal, who is exceptionally coked up, sort of bond over lunch. They argue about brown rice and vegetables (the movie’s one little inside joke) but find common ground in the fact that they both used to eat dog food. Yeah. Cristal then marvels at Nomi’s breasts and I wonder if they are flirting with each other yet again. Hehe . . . more on that later. Anyway, Cristal says the wrong thing about Nomi’s recent lines of work and Nomi, once more, freaks out. The scene is interrupted by a herd of stereotypical cowboys who request Cristal’s autograph. Umm . . . do people actually do that in Vegas? Request stage dancers’ autographs? Very silly, if I do say so myself. Back at the Stardust, Cristal uses the guise of rehearsing with Nomi as an opportunity to feel up her rival. I bet I don’t even have to tell you what Nomi does at this point.
That night, in the dressing room, the angry black dancer yells at the pale dancer’s annoying kids while Nomi gets invited to work at a book convention. Molly warns her about the impending dangers of said convention, but Cristal stifles Molly’s pleas. Nomi should have heeded them, as she ends up at a BOAT convention instead, where the effeminate guy attempts to pimp her out to some Thai businessman. Guess what Nomi’s reply is . . . if you said “freaks out,” you’re right! And if you said “stuffed shrimp,” you’re at Red Lobster. Back at the casino, Zach and Nomi chat about the situation while Cristal gloats triumphantly. Nomi informs Zach about the effeminate guy’s advances and Zach puts him in his place. Zach, troubled soul that he is, then laments having a worthless M.B.A. while Nomi sarcastically thanks Cristal for her help. And then the show starts up again! Yay! And I have to wonder if they’re all this silly or if the film’s production team went all out on the camp of it all. During the performance, the pale dancer gets her revenge on the angry black dancer with some well placed rhinestones and an ill-timed fall. All the dancers are sad even though they all hate her . . . hmm, maybe they should be acting instead of dancing.
After the performance, Al and Henry (Lin Tucci) - the matronly burlesque comic - visit Nomi for no particular reason. I guess Al’s just a sentimental sleaze; good for him. Later, Zach offers Nomi a ride in his bitchin’ Ferrari and she tells him to take her to his place. Once they get there, the champagne starts flowing and he tells her not to be nervous . . . to which she replies by going skinny dipping. He, unfortunately, strips down and joins her; why couldn’t he have done us a favor and joined her first? I’m not exactly a fan of man-ass. Zach, inventive cad that he is, pours champagne over Nomi and licks it from her body, which looks, to those not quite paying attention, as if he is peeing on her. Ah, there’s nothing like a mock golden shower in a mainstream movie! They then get it on and Nomi has another seizure. Because nothing says romance like epilepsy.
Early the next morning, as Nomi leaves, Zach tells her to try out for a gig as Cristal’s understudy. Upon returning to the trailer, Nomi beats Molly with a teddy bear but Molly warns Nomi not to be sucked in. I would bet the bulk of the sucking occurred the night before. At the audition, the behind-the-scenes people argue about “heat.” Come on, people . . . it’s Las Vegas! Of course it’s hot! It's in the middle of a friggin' desert! Ahem. They also take a few moments to investigate Nomi’s background, as it seems that she’s a mystery, an enigma, a mental case. Cristal, observing all the proceedings, figures out what’s going on between Zach and Nomi, which makes her jealous and Zach gloat. She and Nomi bicker, but Nomi gets the job as her understudy anyway, which causes all the dancers to hate her for no particular reason. Nomi and Cristal then seemingly bond over nail polish (damn . . . is this a love-hate relationship or what!) and flirt with each other, which lasts long enough for Cristal to call Nomi a “whore” which leads to yet more you-know-what.
Elsewhere in Vegas, Nomi goes to a club to watch James’ dance number get booed of the stage. She also finds out that her personal Helpful Black Man is getting married to Hope because he knocked her up. He’s optimistic about the situation, though; it’s one of the hallmarks to being a Helpful Black Man. Later, Nomi loses the understudy position as Cristal and her lawyers screw her over. She (big shock) freaks out, body checks Zach’s secretary hard into the boards, and throws a tantrum in his office . . . and then there’s another show. Huh? This one is equally as silly as the rest, but it leads me to wonder just what the time frame of this movie is. Days? Weeks? Months? YEARS?!? Everything seems to happen so quickly; it’s like life in warp speed. Next thing you know they’ll all be in their mid-60s and we won’t know how it happened. Anyway, during the performance, Nomi and Cristal dance-fight, which culminates in Nomi pushing Cristal down a flight of stairs, which gives the star indeterminate internal injuries that make her groan dramatically. Why yes, it has been now proven that Nomi is evil. But there’s a plot twist coming . . . just you wait.
In light of the recent tragedy, the old guy from the beginning tells Zach and the producer to keep the show going, which leads to Nomi becoming the - umm - lead. Zach is happy about the development (mainly because he’s schtupping her), but no one else is. The old guy, this time namedropping Paula Abdul and someone else who slips my mind, hypes up Nomi’s performance. Ah, how far an ex-stripper can go in the world! Meanwhile, Molly’s upset with Nomi for no particular reason. Oh, wait . . . it’s because she knows what Nomi did to Cristal and Nomi, for perhaps the first time in the film, attempts to apologize. I guess there’s a first time for everything then; this is incontrovertible proof.
Now the queen of the Stardust, Nomi is fittingly treated as such. As an olive branch, she invites Molly to her premier party with promises that the Christopher Lambert look-a-like will be there. Molly, because she has co-dependency issues, gives in and shows up at the soirée. There, the pale dancer from earlier asks Nomi if she can be her understudy . . . I guess Nomi isn’t the only one in the troupe who is evil! Moments later, Andrew Carver (William Shockley) arrives! He quickly makes time to hit on Nomi, but she introduces Molly to him. Later, Andrew and Molly make out and then he and his bodyguards beat her up and gang rape her. Because we always should do that to likeable characters in films bereft of them. Damn this movie is stupid. While Nomi and Zach slow dance, Molly stumbles outside and collapses dramatically. Feel the TENSION! Smell the indifference! Donuts are tasty!
At the hospital, Zach refuses Nomi’s plaintive pleas to inform the police of the heinous act on her only true friend. Instead, he starts rattling off Nomi’s true history: in a nutshell, she’s an orphaned crackhead prostitute. Explains a lot, doesn’t it? Although I have to wonder if all that is supposed to make us feel sorry for Nomi. It's not like she's not inherently evil or anything. Nope, not at all evil. Anyway, even though lying about one's arrest record would normally be grounds for immediate dismissal, Zach is forgiving. Perhaps the fact that he's very complimentary about Nomi's bedroom skills has a lot to do with it, but I may be wrong. Nomi - guess what - freaks out. Big shock, isn't it? Nomi says one last goodbye to Molly and then goes to visit Cristal. Because that makes sense . . . oh, but it gets better. They reminisce about hating each other and Nomi pushing Cristal down the stairs and Cristal confesses that she did the same thing when she was an up and coming young dancer and they bond over that. So much so, in fact, that when Nomi gives Cristal a goodbye kiss, they make out. What . . . the . . . HELL! Thanks for that, Mr. Eszterhas; it all makes SO much sense. But wait . . . it still gets better.
After all that reconciling and French kissing, I believe that there's enough time left for some good, old fashioned REVENGE! It seems that no good gang rape goes unpunished, so Nomi dresses up like a high-priced call girl (which is different from how she usually dresses?) and goes over to visit Andrew. As he reclines on his couch, smoking, she strips for him . . . revealing bizarre, red-painted nipples. Ooh, maybe they're poisoned nipples! Now that would be a cool little twist. A deadly titty twister, perhaps? Ahem. Unfortunately, that's not the case, as Andrew partakes of them with no ill effect; that's too bad for him, as Nomi flips out and starts kicking Andrew unmercifully. I guess she kills him, because she gives up after a minute or two. OK, whatever. After exiting the apartment, she gets changed just in time for the ironic denouement. She's back out on the highway, hitchhiking again, when who should pick her up but Jeff! They make small talk for a few minutes about the same things they talked about two hours before and then she realizes who he is, freaks out, pulls a switchblade on him, and demands her suitcase. I really hope that this movie isn't like an eternal loop that never ends . . . that would be like Hell. Maybe it is Hell. Luckily, the credits come up and I feel so much better because it means I'm not dead. Whew.
Alright . . . we know it's bad, but is it worse than Gigli? Let's study the evidence, shall we? First, both feature bad acting, but that duel has to go to Gigli only due to the fact that we're talking about Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez versus Elizabeth Berkley, Gina Gershon, and Kyle MacLachlan. You always have to go with the bigger stars acting badly. The direction in Showgirls is markedly worse, though; while most of the trouble with Gigli lies with Affleck's over-the-top characterization, no one in Showgirls (save perhaps Molly) seems to be at all consistent. Zach wavers between sleazy and wimpy, Cristal shifts from sweet to sinister with the greatest of ease, and Nomi, when not freaking out, is either cuddly or utterly psychotic. Both movies look bad, both didn't make a dent at the box office . . . so I guess it just comes down to writing. From Gigli, we have "Gobble, gobble; it's turkey time." That's bad . . . but it's still no "I'm erect. Why aren't you erect?" And that, my readers, means that Showgirls is still the worst film ever . . . thanks to one line. Maybe something will come this year to dethrone this Misunderstood Masterpiece, but I sure hope not!
