by Benjamin Leonard, Managing Zine Editor, Best Boy

There are few films, outside of childhood favorites, that I’ve watched more than two or three times. For me, part of the joy of watching movies is experiencing new circumstances and/or perspectives. Multiple viewings rarely give me that feeling. I understand that many people like the nostalgia of a rewatch, but that comfort is antithetical to one of the key parts of my personal enjoyment of cinema. In contrast to this stance, rewatching years later provides the opportunity to recontextualize the art following personal, historical, and societal changes. Typically, 5-10 years between viewings just doesn’t allow enough time to pass for me to appreciate those shifts. I tend to hold on to the stories in my head, mulling over their meanings, for a few years after a watch.

However, there are some films that are so rich with characters and themes that annual or biannual viewings consistently bring new thoughts and parallels to current situations. One filmmaker that consistently makes this happen for me is Paul Verhoeven, and especially with Starship Troopers and Showgirls.

Showgirls is the story of Nomi Malone, a young woman that is eager to leave her past behind while striving to reach the pinnacle of success as a Las Vegas dancer. Every person in the movie (sans Molly) is, at best, obnoxious if not downright despicable. Every one of them is using and abusing others to get ahead, all while set in the world of nude or half-nude dancing. It is gross and disgusting, but fascinating.

It is the type of movie whose reputation precedes it. It’s a shitshow. Hardly anyone will argue with you about that. Most people either seek it out or avoid it because of this. The discussion typically revolves around how much of that shit is intentional. Even if it was intentional, was it necessary for the story? If it was necessary for the story, was it exploitative? And finally, IS exploitation the story?

Three years back, I wrote a couple of articles about Showgirls. One was my review of You Don’t Nomi, a documentary showcasing various reactions and perspectives to Showgirls and the other was a roundtable discussion following a group-watch between myself, my partner The Old Sport, and our dear friend Nikkolas Nelson, with Nikk having never watched it before. 

Rewatching films with friends that have never seen them before is another way to recontextualize them. While Nikk enjoyed the experience, he was rightfully angered for the way that Elizabeth Berkley’s amazing, “tits to the glass” performance left her hanging out to dry and taking all the flak from the critics. 

This year, an easy way to recontextualize the film was after reading the three essays in the 40 page booklet and watching all of the bonus features presented on Vinegar Syndrome’s brand new 4K UHD release. The features on the disc are split 50/50 between newly produced from 2016 interviews and previously released from1995 interviews and the essays all seem to be newly written for this release (although Adam Nayman’s did not cover much new territory for me, as he was heavily featured in You Don’t Nomi). Of special interest was Elizabeth Purchell’s and KJ Shepherd’s “Polly and Chrissie Lou,” a conversation about their relationship to the film through Queer and Trans perspectives.

While You Don’t Nomi touched on Berkley’s performance and the critical and public responses, the special features, both new and old, make it clear that everyone involved at the time was impressed by her commitment to the role and regretful of how it played out for her career.

For me, the reason Showgirls is evergreen is because, when we boil it all down, it’s a film that is presenting capitalism in its most base form and excoriating it (and us) for it. Capitalism is a system that mainly views women as things to be fucked. And the movie puts this on full display. “You’re gonna sell it eventually.” This was one of the first things said to Nomi when she arrived in Vegas after she stormed away from a man propositioning her for sex. Smart, motivated women that are willing to play the game can become successful within this system, but they can never escape it. Instead, they will only become more trapped by it. Worse yet, she always has to be on the lookout because there’s bound to be a younger/smarter/more motivated woman that will take her place. Until this system is destroyed, Showgirls will remain relevant. 

As an example of how Showgirls portrays this, my brother recently watched it for the first time and noted that every man in the movie is a piece of shit. Al, Nomi’s old boss from the strip club, was probably the sweetest of them all because of what he said when congratulating her on becoming the star of a big Vegas show. He said “It must be weird not having anyone cum on ya.” This is the standard that the movie sets and, sadly, reality isn’t too far off.

I can’t blame anyone for disliking Showgirls, but it shouldn’t be discounted.