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At one point during "Showgirls," one of the Stardust Club's head honchos tells his entertainment director Zack Carey (Kyle MacLachlan) "This is bullshit. This is about your dick." He might as well be describing director Paul Verhoeven's latest no-brainer.
"Showgirls" centers around Nomi Mallone, the films requisite woman-with-a-past. After her suitcase is stolen by a seedy truck driver who takes her to Las Vegas, Nomi pitches a fit in a casino parking lot. There she is befriended by Molly (Gina Ravera), the woman whose car she appears to be vandalizing, but nevermind. The two bond instantly, and Molly jumps at the chance to let Nomi live with her.
Nomi dreams of becoming a professional dancer but has to settle for stripping and doing lap dances at the seedy Cheetah club in order to make ends meet. Still, she entertains loftier ambitions: namely starring in "Goddess," a cheesy S & M revue at the Stardust.
Nomi is oddly naive -- she doesn't know how to pronounce Versace. But she can also be vicious, learning (surprise, surprise) that the only way to get to the top in Vegas is to step on everyone else.
Nomi's mentor, of sorts, is the show's bitchy diva, Cristal Connors (Gina Gershon), who in turn flaunts her own desire for the nubile Nomi.
Things sour when Cristal tries to tighten her grip on her grip on her protege. So when the aging Goddess "accidentally" breaks her leg falling down the stairs, everyone knows where the blame lies. Nomi rises to stardom, or her idea of it anyway, even snatching away Cristal's flaky boyfriend in the process.
Of course, there's a lesson to be learned from all of this, though it's hard to figure out just what that lesson is. In the end, Nomi leaves behind the life of the Vegas starlet (she also forsakes her best friend Molly, who, after a final ludicrous plot twist, is left lying semi-comatose in the hospital). You don't know where Nomi is going to end up, and, by that point you don't really care.
"Showgirls" wants to be an erotic psychodrama and a moral satire all at once, but turns out to be nothing more than a tease. The film's pretentious direction and disingenuous thematic grappling do little to disguise its creators' real intentions. "Showgirls" is just a racier version of the ubiquitous Verhoeven wet dream: all the world is a stage, and all the actors are snitty, well-oiled lesbians in thong bikinis.
Berkley's overwrought performance as Nomi is the final insult. The former "Saved By The Bell" actress makes you long for the wit and subtlety of Sharon Stone's crotch-flashing in "Basic Instinct." Berkley's version of the cliched femme fatale is all pants and snarls, without a hint of irony. As for the male characters, they remain locked in even more unsavory cliches: pockmarked pimp, hustler-with-a-heart-of-gold, etc.
In one of the film's more memorable tidbits, Nomi's two-timing boyfriend unintentionally sums up the whole misguided mess, confessing, "I've gotta problem with pussy. I always have and I'm always gonna." We KNOW, Mr. Verhoeven. We know.
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