Horrid and ill-advised exploitation written and directed by men who have apparently never interacted with a living female outside of a phone sex hotline.
You should totally watch it tonight.
"Showgirls" is utter shit. It is one of the worst movies I have ever sat through.
I laughed until I CRIED.
Everything they say about this movie is true. Even if you've watched the numerous highlight reels on the internet, NOTHING compares to actually experiencing every awkward and shameful moment without interruption (other than your own hysterics). A lot of films TRY to use a formula to achieve the sort of cult success that "Showgirls" has enjoyed, but they fail, and the reason why is because there IS NO formula; this movie will never be replicated by jokesters with shoestring budgets and tongue-in-cheek scripts, because that's not what "Showgirls" is.
Hard as it is to believe after you've watched it, this movie was made by and (mostly) starred respected and talented people with bright career prospects who passionately believed in this script. It was the most expensive screenplay ever sold at the time, for $2 million. MGM gave the whole damn thing $45 million, in 1995, to push the boundaries of sex in cinema. They thought this utter bullshit, this stereotyped and misogynistic trash, was a worthy expose on some seedy subculture that had never been explored on film. They thought this was ART.
They thought wrong. And they failed. Miserably.
I don't even know where to begin, so I won't - go and witness it. Witness every single wretched and campy moment, witness rival dancers discuss the dog food they've eaten, witness a fat woman insult herself and flash her boobs for patrons, witness dialog like "everybody has AIDS 'n shit" and "it must be strange not having anyone cum on you," witness Elizabeth Berkley engage in a side-splitting sex scene in a pool as if she has tourette's, epilepsy, and nasty stomach cramps all at once. Witness "Showgirls" and spread the good word, children.
A jaundiced freak and his daughter / sister named Agnes creep around in the walls and floorboards of an alarmingly destructible sorority house making prank phone calls and poking the eyeballs out of a bunch of completely unlikable bitches, a couple of whom are played by actresses capable of much more (Tractenberg and Winstead). The gore is laughable, the atmosphere is mostly non-existent, and it's surprisingly boring - if I hadn't been drunk on wine and with a group of friends I'd have fallen asleep at the 9th goddamn time that Agnes mutters something about a victim being "her family now."
An interesting relic of the 80s - shakily assembled, it sort of meanders along without much drive or focus. However, the opportunity to hear from some of these important people, most of whom have passed on since the documentary was made, makes the viewing more than worth it.
While didactic in its thematic approach, this is nevertheless an endearing, unexpectedly moving, exquisitely photographed and well acted movie. The film is a harshly dark comedy - too dark even for some modern audiences, I'm sure, but it was right up my alley. It was certainly ahead of its time, which is why it was a box office disappointment. Killer soundtrack - Cat Stevens' "If you want to sing out" was the only part of the film to find immediate success.