Who was “Showgirls” made for? Middle-aged men who are too ashamed to be seen walking into an X-rated theater? Please. They can watch smut without ever setting foot outside their homes, courtesy of cable and satellite TV. So, who else would see this? Nobody, nobody at all.

If this isn’t the worst movie I’ve ever seen, it certainly comes way too close for comfort. The first wide-release feature to be given the dreaded NC-17 rating by the MPAA in 1995, Paul Verhoeven’s homage to lapdancers appeals to the lowest common denominator of both human intelligence and ethics. You can tell that it’s professionally made, with tight editing and impressive production values, and it all goes to waste. The movie is simply too morally retarded and plausibly ridiculous to be of any possible good to the viewer. It’s nothing more than bad soft-core porn. No, scratch that -- it’s an insult to soft-core porn. Ever see HBO’s “Real Sex”? THAT’S better than this.

There are a multitude of weaknesses in “Showgirls” that contribute to its moral and creative depravity. Chief among them is the script by Joe Eszterhas, which is rife with contrived situations and howlingly bad dialogue. Most of it centers around Nomi Malone (Elizabeth Berkeley), a dancer at a sleazy nude bar in Las Vegas who aspires to be the main attraction in a somewhat less sleazy show at the Stardust hotel. She befriends Molly (Gina Ravera), who does the costumes for the Stardust, and shoots daggers from her eyes at Cristal (Gina Gershon), the current star of the show.

After viewing this movie, the only thing I can suggest is that Verhoeven and Eszterhas seek some professional help. Their misogynist tendency is so overtly rampant you might think they’re almost proud of it. As in their previous effort, 1993’s “Basic Instinct”, women are either sluts or criminals (or both). Molly, the one female character in “Showgirls” that shows any inclination toward virtue and classy behavior, is viciously beaten and raped 90 minutes into the story. Nomi’s idea of revenge is about the only thing that feels real about her character; it’s immature, reactionary and shockingly stupid (mitigating factor: the guy deserved it).

Berkeley, whose previous claim to fame was TV’s “Saved By The Bell”, has to carry this picture on her shoulders, and it’s not a pleasant sight. While her dancing skills are considerable, it’s abundantly clear why she was chosen for this part. It can’t possibly have anything to do with her acting ability, because she has none. Her character lurches violently from impossible naiveté to cunning ruthlessness whenever the script requires it, and Berkeley doesn’t handle the change well. In just about every other scene, she gets angry at someone and stomps out of the room, brutally throwing her shoulders back and forth. She can’t totally be blamed, however – you can’t do much with Eszterhas’s dialogue. Here’s a sample of his brilliant virtuosity:

Cristal: “I know what you do at the Cheetah Club, and it ain't dancing.”

Nomi: “You're full of sh1t!”

Berkeley’s makeup is almost a character in itself, so heavy at times that it’s kind of difficult to tell what she actually looks like. Her outfits, however, are the best thing about the movie.

Somewhere I’m sure there is a movie that explores the lives of strippers honestly and with some degree of compassion and art. “Showgirls” is not it. This is not a fable about “female empowerment”, as Verhoeven crassly tried to describe it. The main point he gets across is that naked chicks are cool, but not worthy of anything like respect or love. This reprehensible movie is too idiotic for words. Even mine.



Recommended:
No

Viewing Format: VHS
Video Occasion: None of the Above
Suitability For Children: Not suitable for Children of any age
Special Effects: Well at least you can't see the strings