, it was “All About Eve” remade as a glitzy Vegas trash opera of live flesh, and it was perceived as having committed a kind of double sin. Yes, it was tacky and pulpy, sleazy and over-the-top. But part of what drove the collective nose-thumbing was a kind of lingering American puritanism that said: A movie that dives into a swampsordid, drinking in the voyeuristic shallowness of it all, has to be ridiculed.
Jeffrey McHale’s “You Don’t Nomi” is an avid and entertaining critical documentary about “Showgirls.” It’s not about the making of the film. It’s more of a mediation, a feature-length appreciation of the phenomenon of “Showgirls” and all the ways the movie is now appraised and experienced. It finds room for all three views: “Showgirls” as disaster, “Showgirls” as kitsch landmark, “Showgirls” as weirdly intense and watchable effusion of ’90s commercial Hollywood. The filmmakers found room, too.
But this now plays as a kind of post-#MeToo awareness. She’s been born into a world of predators, and she’s not going to take it anymore. Nomi draws a hard line between showing her body and engaging in sex work, even though the Vegas world keeps saying, “Come on, it’s the same thing!” That’s what a lot of critics in 1995 seemed to say, too, damning the character with a kind of hip puritanical misogyny.
Mrs. Pancakes: “You DO know me” Summer: *gasp*
Do they spend an hour discussing why Jessie Spano turned into a dolphin during that pool sex scene?
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