Showgirls

No, I checked—Dante (the medieval poet) does not have a script credit here, but this sure is a vision of Hell. One can hardly imagine what would drive people to live the lives depicted in this movie, but I have little doubt that, to some extent, this story is an accurate representation of some terrible corner of society. In a certain way, Elizabeth Berkeley’s Nomi represents a typical American story: a stupid, unstable, unpleasant and ignorant person who somehow blunders her way through life achieving a modicum of success—or at least something other than complete failure—while somehow barely avoiding a fatal disaster. That results in a tale that delivers equal parts humor and horror. One can say the same for the acting performances herein, which are uneven to say the least. Regarding the musical dance numbers, I must admit that I am at a severe disadvantage, as dancing in pretty much all forms has always been a mystery to me. These pieces could be brilliant, or they could be laughably bad—I have no way of knowing. Overall, I think if you keep the most open of minds and maybe you squint really hard, you can decide that there is at least some amount of entertainment value here—hence the fact that this roundly panned flick has gained a bit of reputation rehabilitation over the years—but, plainly, this is an objectively bad movie. Only let this one take the stage if you’re in a truly indulgent mood. Otherwise, cover it up and keep it that way.