Only
a certain kind of film can sustain a documentary of its own. Usually, they are
good films that either support strange interpretations (as with Room 237 on
The Shining) or were the result of notoriously dramatic production shoot
(like The Exorcist). Paul Verhoeven’s Showgirls stands in a
classless class by itself. Initially reviled, it has developed a weird cult
following, with Midnight screenings in the tradition of Rocky Horror Picture
Show. Several of its most vocal champions explain why the 1995 bomb was
better (or at least more interesting) than people thought in Jeffrey McHale’s You
Don’t Nomi, which releases tomorrow on VOD.
There
is probably more nudity and sex in Nomi than maybe any other documentary
ever reviewed here, but that makes perfect sense if you know anything about Showgirls.
It was conceived as the deliberately NC-17 follow-up from director Verhoeven
and screenwriter Joe Esterhas, who scored a big hit with the risqué thriller Basic
Instinct. It was Hollywood going full frontal and then some. The problem is
the dialogue and characterization were even more outrageous, but in the wrong
kind of way that invites use of the “c” word: “camp.”
Although
none of the cast or crew appear in sit-down interviews to justify themselves,
McHale’s experts clearly sympathize with lead actress Elizabeth Berkley. They
clearly establish it was Verhoeven who pushed and prodded her to go bigger, broader,
and crazier in her portrayal of Nomi Malone—and then basically left her exposed
to the withering critical reception. They even make compelling connections
between her striving teen character on Saved by the Bell and her often
inappropriately manic performance as Malone—which April Kidwell explicitly
alludes to (and satirizes) as the star of the Off-Broadway musical adaptation.
To
give credit where it is due, critics Adam Nyman and David Schmader provide some
interesting break-downs and close readings of Showgirls scenes. They are
mostly persuasive arguing the film is the carefully-crafted work of an auteurist
filmmaker. Something just went very wrong along the way—or rather many things.
Essentially,
the film tries to be coy arguing Showgirls is both a campy midnight
movie and an unheralded masterwork, but you cannot be half Nomi Malone. By trying
to have it both ways, the film never fully makes it case for either. Instead,
we are left thinking the film is still the same train wreck it always was, but
it seems to mean a lot to a number of rather witty people. That is not exactly
a fresh new appreciation, but it is something. More amusing than convincing, You
Don’t Know is a good way to watch the highlights of Showgirls without
feeling unclean, when it releases tomorrow (6/9) on VOD platforms.
