Marian Luntz, longtime head of the film and video program at the Museum of Fine Arts Houston and probably the most knowledgeable person in town about cinema history, was surprised by her mother the other day.
Helen Luntz, 87, noticed that a movie with Orson Welles’ name in its title (Me and Orson Welles) was playing at the museum as the opening night selection for the Cinema Arts Festival Houston. That jogged a memory for her, and, for the first time ever, she told her cinephile daughter that she had actually met the great man.
Marian was shocked, mostly because this was the first time she’d heard about it. Then she asked Helen how she’d come to meet him.
“My English teacher (in New York) took our class to see his play. What was the name of it? Oh yeah, Julius Caesar."
The teacher had taken her to see the very production that is the subject of Me and Orson Welles.
“Afterward he came over to talk to us,” Helen Luntz went on. “He was very nice, and very handsome.”
Just like Christian McCay, who portrays him so uncannily in the film.
Well, the handsome part, anyway.
Christian McCay, left, does an uncanny impression of the cinematic legend in "Me and Orson Welles."
A variety of actors have had the good fortune of having career resurgences thanks to someone giving them a chance after they passed their prime, including John Travolta after Pulp Fiction, Keanu Reeves after John Wick, and Brendan Fraser after The Whale. Pamela Anderson is the latest actor hoping to be reclaimed thanks to her starring role in The Last Showgirl.
In the meta-story, the 57-year-old Anderson plays Shelly, an aging showgirl at a third tier Las Vegas casino. The show itself, called Le Razzle Dazzle, is on its last legs, and Shelly finds herself at a crossroads, with no other skills or financial means on which to fall back.
While younger showgirls like Jodie (Kiernan Shipka) and Mary-Anne (Brenda Song) are willing to move on to more sexually-suggestive shows, Shelly is only comfortable with the tried-and-true showgirl way. Three other people in her life — estranged daughter Hannah (Billie Lourd), best friend Annette (Jamie Lee Curtis), and stage manager Eddie (Dave Bautista) — seem to help and hurt her in equal measure.
The effectiveness of the film, directed by Gia Coppola and written by Kate Gersten, depends heavily on whether the viewer is willing to accept Anderson, who’s still best known for her role on Baywatch, as a serious actor. If Coppola and Gersten are trying to show a different side of Anderson, they fail; having her play a character with little-to-no makeup and a dramatic arc does not make up for her poor acting skills and a high voice that borders on shrill.
And because the story is so dependent on Anderson — she appears in literally every scene — it never has a chance of becoming interesting or involving. Her character has personal issues that are objectively sad, but any weight that might have resulted from those storylines are lost along the way. She’s not helped by an over-the-top performance by Curtis, who seems to be milking her Oscar from Everything Everywhere All at Oncefor all it’s worth.
Coppola seems to be going for an old-school feel for the film to match the storyline. The film has a weird, unfocused look to it at times, giving the audience visuals that are definitely not high-definition. Whether she’s actually using an old film stock or manipulating the image to make it look like an old film, the effect is the same, with imperfections appearing on the screen often.
Anderson — who earned a nomination for a Golden Globe for Best Female Actor for her role — and Curtis seem to take up most of the oxygen of the film, leaving little to remember from anyone else. Shipka had a breakout movie year thanks to appearances in Twisters and Longlegs, but her role here gives her little to do. The same goes for Bautista, although at least he gets to put on a grey wig and act in a way that doesn’t emphasize his bulky physique.
While actors should never be shunted aside simply because they’ve aged out of an accepted age range, you also have to have the ability to prove you still belong. Anderson can’t get out of her own way in The Last Showgirl, and consequently the film itself never has any dramatic depth, either.
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The Last Showgirl opens in theaters on January 10.
