My Personal Worst Films: Showgirls (1995)

Showgirls ½«
NC-17, 131m. 1995

Cast & Credits: Elizabeth Berkley (Nomi Malone), Gina Gershon (Crystal Connors), Kyle MacLachlan (Zack Carey), Glenn Plummer (James Smith), Alan Rachins (Tony Moss), Robert Davi (Al Torres), Gina Rivera (Molly Abrams), Al Ruscio (Mr. Karlman). Screenplay by Joe Eszterhas. Directed by Paul Verhoeven.

"Showgirls" is a film that delivers plenty of breasts and skin with enough overtones of bisexuality, lesbianism, and sadomasochism equivalent to a pornographic movie, hence the NC-17 rating it’s been given (no one under 17 admitted). It is not, however, sexually stimulating like some hardcore X-rated movies are and is completely devoid of a compelling storyline, which is exactly what all hardcore X-rated movies exhibit.

Not only is this $40 million production filled with some horrendous performances and laughably, unbelievable dialogue, it is a cheap slap-in-the-face to more gifted directors like John Schlesinger ("Midnight Cowboy" - 1969), Philip Kaufman ("Henry & June" - 1990), and Bernardo Bertolucci ("Last Tango nn Paris" - 1972) whose critically acclaimed films over the past two decades were stigmatized by the Motion Picture Association of America and theatrical owners for their adult content.

"Showgirls," with its huge mass market distribution in over 1,300 movie screens nationwide in September 1995 and NC-17 ads appearing on network television, was enough to make presidential Republican Candidate Bob Dole cringe. The irony was the film arrived quietly on video store shelves a mere three months after its box office run.

Video Store magazine revealed the movie’s distributor, MGM/United Artists, went solo on the film’s promotional video tour because its sister company, Warner Home Video, wouldn’t back NC-17 films. And the nation’s top video retailer, Blockbuster Video, was also not going to carry the NC-17 or unrated versions of the film.

"Showgirls" is the latest collaboration from director Paul Verhoeven and screenwriter Joe Eszterhas who gave audiences the confusing but erotic "Basic Instinct" (1992). If their names weren’t on the credits, one might think this film was put together by amateurs.

The word which best describes the picture is “half-assed.” Seems neither Verhoeven or Eszterhas gave a damn about what it was they were making. Their only goal here was to stir up some controversy.

The story revolves around Nomi Malone (Elizabeth Berkley); a young loner with a sordid past who hitchhikes to Las Vegas with big dreams of becoming a stripper.

Excuse me while I correct myself. Nomi isn’t a stripper.

“I’m a dancer,” she vehemently tells her boss (Robert Davi) early on in the film.

The movie traces her rise as a stripper doing nude lap dances in a sleazy nightclub known as the Stardust who graduates to the flashy, high class dance theater in downtown Vegas called the Chateau.

There is not a single line of dialogue said in the film that can be taken seriously. In fact, a majority of what is seen on screen can be played for laughs. The most pathetic character is Alan Rachins as the Chateau manager who is a combination of Anthony Perkins’ psychotic looks from his days playing Norman Bates in the Psycho movies with the voice of Saturday Night Live’s Phil Hartman.

In one scene, Rachins puts some ice on Nomi’s breasts in order to make them firm. After a few seconds, he lets out an exhaustive almost sexually fulfilling sigh and says, “I’m erect. Why aren’t you?” It sounds like something Perkins’ demented street preacher character from director Ken Russell’s "Crimes of Passion" (1984) would say.

Other inane sequences offer a phony dose of sentimentality. When Nomi tells her co-workers she is quitting the Stardust, a heavy-set dancer; whose entertainment gift to the male audience is when she raises her arms, her brassiere drops with a honking sound revealing her large breasts, tells Nomi, “You're the only one who can get my tits poppin' right!”

Believe it or not, there are a couple decent performances that deserve better had Eszterhas turned in a note-worthy script. Glenn Plummer does a credible turn as an exotic dancer who is addicted to sex. Unfortunately, Gina Ravera as Nomi’s friend and confidante is wasted. Ravera’s part is only set up for the brutal and unnecessary rape scene near the film’s climax that seems to have been written in for shock value.

The best scene in the entire movie is a clever dance audition in which a lot of the half clothed female dancers attempt to prove they are talented. The sequence bears some resemblance to Broadway’s A Chorus Line but the scene is wrecked once the characters speak.

Gina Gershon, however, as the star dancer of the Chateau looks as though she is having fun with her role. Throughout the film, Gershon plays sort of a competitive cat-and-mouse love game with Nomi using the same flirtatious attractions Sharon Stone used on Michael Douglas in Basic Instinct.

Now there is where the movie could have worked had Berkley’s Nomi been someone the audience could have gotten to know and care about. The problem is her character, armed with a switchblade, three layers of make-up, and a no-nonsense attitude, is so standoffish towards the other people in the film I couldn’t decide if I should be for or against her.

Berkley, whose only other acting stint was as the valedictorian on NBC’s "Saved by the Bell" (1989-1993), plays her role here in such an awkward uneven manner that the only thing Nomi is really good at is painting her fingernails.

"Showgirls" may be the year’s worst publicity stunt, but the film is unique in the fact it’s not the critics who have the last word. It is the director himself.

When asked to comment by the Associated Press on Berkley’s dismal performance, the damning reviews, and the film’s box office take of $21 million, Verhoeven said, “I simply made a bad movie.”

Well, for that I have to give Verhoeven credit. At least he is being honest.

©9/22/95

Appreciation: Howard McGinnis

A couple friends of mine and I had an idea for a half-hour sitcom. The comedy would take place at a retail outlet and the characters would be less than a handful of employees and customers.

Unfortunately, we never got any farther than deciding who the characters would be.

If we could not agree on anything else, the idea of having a few customers as characters in the show came from “Cheers” (1982-1993). In that show, audiences came to know and love Norm Peterson, Cliff Clavin, and Frazier Crane.

At the Blockbuster Video I have been working at for almost four years now, one person reminded me of Norm Peterson only in the sense he frequented the place the most. His name was Howard McGinnis.

In “Cheers”, audiences knew Norm Peterson as the lazy do nothing lug who would rather be nursing a beer than be at home with his wife, Vera.

Howard was just the opposite. He was married 33 years, had two daughters and a son who ran an automotive shop in Mesquite and had his own personal business on the side.

Norm’s routine for eleven seasons was he would walk in the bar and everyone would say, “Norm!!!” Woody (Woody Harrelson) or someone would ask him what is up, and Norm would respond, “My ideal height if I were ten feet tall.”

Whenever Howard or “Big H” as one coworker called him, came in the usual response was the same. You would ask him what is up, and he would say, “Nothing until you’ve rented me something (a movie) I haven’t seen yet.”

The response was justified. Howard had accumulated close to 3,000 movie rentals since he became a member in 1991.

I assist at least twenty-five customers a day at Blockbuster Video. The regular ones I do see come in once every two or three weeks or so. I always knew, however, when Howard would make an appearance.

He would come in at least three times a week, mostly Tuesdays and Wednesdays because they were new release days. Howard would go directly to the new releases, put on his reading glasses, and look over the dozen films which had just come out on video that week.

Before his visit was over, Howard would leave with at least half. Hardly was there ever a time where he would walk out with nothing; something management hates seeing with any customer.

Howard was more than just a good customer. He would spend about twenty or thirty minutes in the store. He would not be just browsing around. Howard would chat with a couple of employees and managers.

I remember talking to him about my ‘82 Oldsmobile that had seen its better days. I cannot speak for anyone else, but I knew Howard was always the first to help.

When my car’s automatic window on the passenger side would not close, Howard took out a business card to his son’s automotive shop and said, “Tell my son that Howard sent you and you’ll be taken care of.”

The trip saved me the $250 the dealer was going to charge to dismantle the door and replace the part.

It is and was people like Howard and a couple of other customers I have come to know well who have made my job not as tedious as it often can be.

I still see those familiar faces today except Howard. He died Aug. 25 after a brief but courageous battle with cancer.

The job is still routine but life at the video store is not the same.

Then again, if I know Howard chances are he is doing exactly what the priest at the funeral said he would do.

“When Howard walks into those pearly gates, he is going to ask St. Peter, ‘Where is the nearest Blockbuster?’”

Chances are Howard is in a much better place doing just that. This time, he is watching movies free of charge.

©9/13/95

Gone Too Soon: Craig Karlen (1970-1995)

Looking at the obits of former students listed in an alumni publication my alma mater distributes every few months who have passed away over the years, I’ve always seen my 1988 graduating class at Bishop Lynch High School as the healthiest. Or perhaps the luckiest since no one from my four years (84-88) there made the list.

Though I knew without mention that, sooner or later, I’d see some former classmate from 1988 on that list. I hoped the grim news, however, would not come until decades down the road and not within the first ten years since graduation.

That changed on June 28, 1995, when Craig Karlen, a former BL Class of ’88 graduate, passed away in a freak accident while vacationing with his family in Cancun, Mexico.

During his senior year, Craig was a member of the Juggling and Astronomy Clubs and worked a part-time job at Wendy’s restaurant.

“The money is the best incentive,” Craig was quoted saying about his job in the 1987-88 high school yearbook.

Upon graduating, Craig attended Richland College prior to enrolling at the University of Texas in Dallas. He served in the Naval Reserves for six years and had siblings. His favorite football team was the Dallas Cowboys.

At the funeral, such memorabilia as a ticket stub from an Orange Bowl football game and a golf club used to score a hole-in-one were mentioned at the mass. Craig attended the football game in January this year to see his favorite college team, the University of Miami, play against the University of Nebraska Cornhuskers. Despite the fact Miami lost, Craig was happy he went anyway.

Craig scored the hole-in-one in May this year. Several attempts were made to have the event published in the suburban paper. Sadly, it was finally published on the day of the funeral.

One might get the impression Craig, and I were friends. Truth of the matter is I hardly knew him at all. I learned more about him going through my senior high school yearbook and at the funeral than I did while in high school. Upon hearing the untimely tragic news of his death, however, I did feel a sense of loss. I had a couple of classes with him, but only once in those four years did we speak.

It was on a Monday junior year, a couple days after Craig and another friend of mine, Tom Kelley, were pulled over by a motorcycle cop on Gross Road for speeding Friday after school. Actually, from my standpoint and probably the officer’s as well, I’d term what they did as racing.

Looking at my rearview mirror as I passed them by in my rusted out ‘76 Ford Pinto, I saw a look of horror on Craig’s face. He realized this would be his second speeding ticket that year.

I died laughing as I drove by, but I was not laughing at Craig’s expense. I was laughing because Tom, who always boasted about how fast his Chevrolet Monza went, got caught. Of course, Tom had the last laugh senior year when the same police officer ticketed me for going fifty-seven in a thirty mile-an-hour zone.

Craig did not get upset at me for laughing at his misfortune. In fact, he even joked about it and took the matter in stride, which is exactly what I remember most about him. Whenever I saw him, he was always smiling. Nothing ever bothered him

“Looks like Tom and I will be taking defensive driving classes together,” he told me shortly before Theology class.

©8/16/95