KAIJU NO. 8: MISSION RECON

In a Kaiju-ravaged Japan, Kafka Hibino, working in monster disposal, transforms into the powerful "Kaiju No. 8" and secretly strives to join the Anti-Kaiju Defense Force, alongside his childhood friend Mina Ashiro. As a new threat emerges, Kafka faces a critical decision that could change everything.

In the world of Kaiju No. 8: Mission Recon, Japan is constantly under threat from massive creatures known as Kaiju. These gigantic monsters wreak havoc on cities, and it’s up to the elite Anti-Kaiju Defense Force to protect the population. However, this isn’t your typical Kaiju story. Instead of following a young, ambitious hero, we meet Kafka Hibino, an older, down-on-his-luck worker who cleans up the mess left behind after the battles. Kafka may not have the typical heroic qualities at first glance, but his journey is one of redemption, determination, and self-discovery.

Adapted from Naoya Matsumoto’s manga, Kaiju No. 8 stands out with its unique protagonist and blend of humour and intense action. The omnibus film Kaiju No. 8: Mission Recon combines the first ten episodes of the anime’s first season into a single 119-minute feature, with the addition of a new original episode titled “Hoshina’s Day Off.” While the trailer might give the impression of a light-hearted, almost childish anime, it quickly reveals a deeper balance between thrilling monster battles and moments of comedy.

Credit: ©JAKDF 3rd Division © Naoya Matsumoto/SHUEISHA

At the heart of Kaiju No. 8: Mission Recon is Kafka Hibino, a man who has long abandoned his dream of joining the prestigious Anti-Kaiju Defense Force. Kafka’s job as a member of the cleanup crew is far from glamorous—he spends his days disposing of the remains of fallen Kaiju, a task that’s as gruesome as it is thankless. Kafka is the opposite of a typical anime protagonist. At 32, he’s no longer the eager, idealistic young man trying to prove himself. Instead, he’s a middle-aged man who has failed repeatedly to join the defense force, making his quest for redemption feel all the more relatable.

Despite the setback, Kafka is determined to change his fate. His dream of joining the Defense Force isn’t driven by ambition or a desire for glory—it’s a genuine wish to make a difference. What makes Kafka so appealing as a protagonist is that he doesn’t rely on his newfound powers to cheat his way into the defense force; instead, he uses his years of experience working with Kaiju remains to earn his place. Kafka’s growth throughout the series is heartfelt, and his journey towards self-acceptance is a big part of what makes the anime resonate.

Credit: ©JAKDF 3rd Division © Naoya Matsumoto/SHUEISHA

The action sequences in Kaiju No. 8: Mission Recon are one of the most exciting aspects of the show. The Kaiju battles are fast-paced and inventive, and the animation does an excellent job of capturing the scale and intensity of these fights. The design of the Kaiju themselves is diverse and detailed, with each monster bringing something unique to the table. These creatures feel alive, and the sheer force of their power is palpable.

What’s more impressive is the way the anime blends action with moments of humour. Kafka’s awkwardness, especially as he comes to terms with his new Kaiju form, provides a contrast to the brutal intensity of the battles. The humour is not just there for comic relief but also serves to make the characters feel more human. Kafka’s interactions with his colleagues, as well as his attempts to keep his Kaiju identity a secret, add a light-hearted tone to the otherwise dark and action-packed plot.

One of the more unusual elements of Kaiju No. 8: Mission Recon is the inclusion of an original episode titled “Hoshina’s Day Off.” This episode follows as a bit of an end credits special, offering a comedic finale. While this episode doesn’t contribute to the main plot, it serves to provide more character development and a light-hearted contrast to the high-stakes action the audience have been feasting on. However, this shift in tone can feel a bit jarring, especially when the main story ends on a tense note. 

Credit: ©JAKDF 3rd Division © Naoya Matsumoto/SHUEISHA

The anime’s visual style is striking, with bold colors and energetic camera movements that make each action scene feel dynamic and exciting. The animation is clean and detailed, and the lighting plays a significant role in setting the atmosphere. Many scenes take place at night, with characters dressed in black suits, which creates a unique visual contrast between the dark environment and the vibrant lighting used during battle sequences. The animation studio, Production I.G, is known for its high-quality work, and Kaiju No. 8: Mission Recon is no exception. The fluidity of the animation enhances the intensity of the Kaiju battles and allows for creative choreography in each fight.

What sets Kaiju No. 8: Mission Recon apart from many other Kaiju-centric anime is its tone. While it has the typical high-octane action that fans expect from a show about giant monsters, the anime balances this with moments of humour and emotional depth. Kafka’s character arc is central to the show, and his journey is what keeps the audience invested. There’s a strong focus on his inner struggle, and the anime doesn’t shy away from exploring the complexity of his feelings as he grapples with his Kaiju identity. The theme of redemption and second chances is a major thread throughout the season, and it’s something that resonates with viewers long after the credits roll.

While Kaiju No. 8: Mission Recon shares similarities with other anime like My Hero Academia or Attack on Titan—with its focus on a world threatened by powerful creatures—it also manages to carve out its own identity. Kafka is not your typical young hero; instead, he’s a man who’s trying to make up for lost time and prove that it’s never too late to chase your dreams. This shift in focus offers a refreshing change from the usual anime tropes, giving the story a unique perspective.

Kaiju No. 8: Mission Recon is an entertaining and well-rounded anime that offers much more than its initial premise suggests. The film does an excellent job of balancing intense action, humour, and character development. Kafka Hibino’s journey of redemption and his determination to fight for a dream that once seemed out of reach is both inspiring and relatable. The action scenes are exhilarating, the animation is top-notch, and the humour adds a light touch to the otherwise serious plot.

While the inclusion of the filler episode “Hoshina’s Day Off” might feel a bit out of place, it doesn’t detract from the overall experience. Instead, it gives viewers a brief reprieve before the story dives back into the action. If you’re looking for an anime that blends high-stakes action with emotional depth and a unique protagonist, Kaiju No. 8: Mission Recon is definitely worth checking out. To see how the story unfolds, be sure to catch the remaining episodes on Crunchyroll.

Kaiju No. 8: Mission Recon is in NZ cinemas from April 10, 2025

NOVOCAINE (2025)

When the girl of his dreams is kidnapped, a man incapable of feeling physical pain turns his rare condition into an unexpected advantage in the fight to rescue her.

Blending over-the-top action with a twisted sense of humour, Novocaine is the kind of film that thrives on its own absurdity. It takes a wildly imaginative premise—what if a man couldn’t feel pain?—and runs with it, delivering a blood-drenched spectacle that manages to be both hilarious and horrifying. Directors Dan Berk and Robert Olsen craft a film that revels in its gruesome creativity, but while it starts strong, Novocaine gradually loses its sharpness, stretching its concept to the breaking point by the time the credits roll.

At the heart of Novocaine is Nate Caine, played with endearing awkwardness by Jack Quaid. Unlike the typical action hero, Nate is neither skilled nor particularly brave—he’s a nervous wreck who has spent his entire life shielding himself from harm. His condition, Congenital Insensitivity to Pain (CIP), means he can’t feel injuries, making him a walking disaster just waiting to happen. To compensate, Nate has bubble-wrapped his existence, covering sharp corners with padding, avoiding physical exertion, and sticking to a safe, predictable routine.

That routine shatters when his workplace—a small-town bank—is violently robbed. Amid the chaos, his co-worker and crush, Sherry (Amber Midthunder), is taken hostage, forcing Nate into action. What follows is a relentless series of encounters in which Nate fumbles his way through increasingly brutal fights, unintentionally turning into an unbreakable, pain-free force of nature. With an injury list that would put most action heroes in the hospital, he barrels through gunfights, fistfights, and absurd booby-trapped environments, all while remaining blissfully ignorant (or unaware) of the extent of his wounds.

Berk and Olsen lean into the inherent comedy of Nate’s condition. The film plays with slapstick violence in a way that echoes Home Alone—except instead of cartoonish pratfalls, we get impalements, bear mace, and creatively gruesome injuries. The action sequences are inventive, making full use of Nate’s unique physiology. Whether he’s shoving a handful of broken glass into someone’s face, using a tattoo needle in a lethal way, or accidentally deep-frying a gun, the film finds increasingly bizarre ways to keep the carnage flowing.

Jack Quaid’s performance is key to making all of this work. He brings a nervous, everyman energy to the role that makes Nate feel grounded, even as the film spirals into madness. Quaid has made a name for himself playing endearing, slightly dorky characters, and Novocaine plays to his strengths. His awkward charm gives the film a comedic edge, helping balance out the buckets of blood.

Despite its strengths, Novocaine isn’t without flaws. The film’s emotional core never quite lands. While Nate’s journey from terrified recluse to accidental vigilante is engaging, his relationship with Sherry feels underdeveloped. Midthunder does her best with the material, but her character never escapes the role of a damsel-in-distress plot device. The romance feels rushed, lacking the depth needed to make their connection feel real.

Ray Nicholson, playing the film’s main antagonist, delivers a performance that is more eccentric than menacing. He chews the scenery with glee, but his villain never truly feels like a threat. The stakes remain high on paper, but without a truly terrifying antagonist, Nate’s journey lacks the sense of real danger that could have elevated the story.

Another issue lies in the film’s pacing. While Novocaine starts with a bang, keeping the action and laughs flowing in its first half, it eventually begins to drag. The central gimmick—Nate’s inability to feel pain—initially provides a fresh spin on action tropes, but by the final act, the film struggles to find new ways to keep it engaging. The action sequences, while well-choreographed, start to feel repetitive. Unlike traditional action films where the audience winces at every punch and kick, Novocaine lacks that sense of physicality—because Nate himself never reacts to pain, the fights often feel weightless.

This lack of impact becomes more noticeable as the film tries to escalate the chaos. Instead of tightening the narrative, Novocaine expands outward, adding unnecessary locations, fights, and quips that dilute its momentum. By the time it reaches its climax, the film has lost some of its initial bite, feeling more like a collection of violent set pieces than a fully realised story.

It’s a common pitfall in action-comedies that lean heavily on a single concept. Films like Crank or The Transporter work because they embrace their absurdity but still find ways to make their action sequences feel visceral. Novocaine, on the other hand, leans so far into its pain-free gimmick that it sometimes forgets to make its fights feel impactful.

That said, Novocaine remains an entertaining ride. Its blend of blood-soaked action and dark comedy makes it a fun watch, even if it stumbles in its later half. Jack Quaid carries the film with his earnest performance, and the directors’ background in horror allows them to inject moments of genuine suspense amid the chaos. While it might not be a genre classic, it carves out its own niche as a gory, absurd, and oddly tender action-comedy.

For those looking for a unique twist on the action genre, Novocaine delivers plenty of blood, laughs, and sheer ridiculousness. It may not be a film that lingers in your mind long after the credits roll, but for 90 minutes of unhinged fun, it does the job.

Novocaine is releasing in NZ cinemas on April 3, 2025

QUEER (2024)

In 1950s Mexico City, an American immigrant in his late forties leads a solitary life amidst a small American community. However, the arrival of a young student stirs the man into finally establishing a meaningful connection with someone.

Luca Guadagnino’s Queer is an evocative yet uncertain adaptation of William S. Burroughs’ semi-autobiographical novel. It is a film that captures the raw emotions and alienation at the heart of its source material but struggles with cohesion, often feeling like a series of fragmented vignettes rather than a fully formed narrative. While it boasts stunning cinematography, a deeply immersive atmosphere, and a striking lead performance from Daniel Craig, Queer ultimately falls into an ambiguous space—partly an exploration of desire and addiction, partly a surreal fever dream, but never quite a satisfying whole.

Set in post-war Mexico City, Queer follows William Lee (Daniel Craig), a self-destructive expatriate wrestling with addiction, isolation, and an unreciprocated obsession with the enigmatic Allerton (Drew Starkey). Lee, a stand-in for Burroughs himself, is a character defined by yearning—an outsider looking in, unable to bridge the emotional gap between himself and the object of his affections. Guadagnino excels in capturing this alienation, making the city feel at once vibrant and suffocating, a backdrop for Lee’s spiraling descent into self-loathing and delusion.

However, the film struggles to give this longing a clear emotional arc. Lee’s infatuation with Allerton is evident, but the film keeps their dynamic at arm’s length, rarely allowing for the deeper psychological exploration that might have elevated their interactions beyond surface-level tension. Instead, Queer drifts between scenes of desire, rejection, and hazy self-destruction, painting a compelling mood but never fully engaging with the deeper existential questions raised by Burroughs’ writing.

Craig’s portrayal of Lee is a departure from his usual roles, showcasing a raw, stripped-down performance that anchors the film. He fully embodies Lee’s instability, delivering a character who is both pathetic and painfully relatable. His erratic energy, shifting between desperate charm and simmering rage, makes him an engrossing presence, even when the script doesn’t quite know what to do with him.

Drew Starkey’s Allerton, however, remains something of an enigma. The film, like the novel, presents him more as an idea than a fully developed character—an object of obsession rather than a person in his own right. This lack of depth makes it difficult to fully invest in the relationship at the story’s core. While this may be intentional, highlighting the asymmetry of their connection, it also leaves much of the film feeling emotionally hollow.

One of Queer’s greatest strengths is its visual and atmospheric richness. Guadagnino, alongside cinematographer Sayombhu Mukdeeprom, crafts a world that is both dreamlike and tactile. The film’s Mexico City is a landscape of smoke-filled bars, sun-drenched streets, and dimly lit rooms steeped in loneliness. Every frame is meticulously composed, evoking a sense of timelessness that enhances the film’s melancholic tone.

However, while Queer is visually captivating, its storytelling is less assured. Guadagnino has never been a director particularly concerned with traditional narrative structures, but here, the lack of cohesion feels more like an oversight than an artistic choice. The film drifts between moments of surrealism and grounded drama, sometimes to great effect, but often at the expense of narrative clarity. The final act, in particular, leans into abstraction in a way that feels less like an intentional crescendo and more like an unraveling of the story’s already tenuous structure.

Queer resists conventional storytelling. Guadagnino seems caught between honoring the fragmented nature of the source material and trying to shape it into something more traditionally cinematic. The result is a film that often feels unsure of itself—committed to Burroughs’ themes but hesitant to fully embrace his chaotic, free-associative style. Queer occupies an in-between space. It captures the mood and essence of Burroughs’ world but never fully commits to either realism or abstraction. This hesitancy makes the film feel oddly restrained, as if it is holding back from diving into the true depths of its protagonist’s psyche.

The film’s sound design and score further enhance its hypnotic, immersive quality. Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross provide a haunting soundtrack that oscillates between jazz-infused melancholy and eerie electronic pulses, underscoring the film’s shifting tones. The use of ambient noise—whispered conversations, the hum of neon signs, the distant echoes of the city—adds to the sense of isolation and disorientation that permeates the film.

Yet, while the film’s sonic landscape is beautifully crafted, it sometimes feels more effective at setting a mood than driving the story forward. Like much of Queer, the music and sound design contribute to an overall aesthetic experience rather than a tightly woven narrative.

Queer is an undeniably beautiful and emotionally raw film, but it remains frustratingly elusive in its storytelling. Guadagnino has crafted a visually stunning meditation on alienation, longing, and self-destruction, yet the film never quite finds its footing in terms of narrative clarity. Daniel Craig delivers one of his most vulnerable performances, elevating the film even when the script falters. However, the lack of a strong emotional arc and the fragmented nature of the storytelling prevent Queer from being as powerful as it could have been.

For those willing to embrace its dreamlike pacing and elliptical structure, Queer offers a haunting, melancholic experience. But for those looking for a film that fully engages with Burroughs’ themes in a cohesive and impactful way, it may feel like an incomplete exploration—compelling in moments but ultimately uncertain of how to translate its source material’s complexity into cinematic form.

Queer is coming to Aotearoa NZ cinemas April 3, 2025

Runtime: 136 minutes
Classification: TBC

LULA WASHINGTON DANCE THEATRE [TE AHUREI TOI O TĀMAKI AUCKLAND ARTS FESTIVAL 2025]

Since 1980, Lula Washington Dance Theatre has captivated audiences with its dynamic fusion of African, Afro-Haitian, and African American dance styles, set to vibrant jazz, R&B, and original beats. This Los Angeles-based contemporary ensemble brings passion, energy, and two international premieres to the stage for an unforgettable experience.

Lula Washington Dance Theatre’s latest performance was an experience unlike any other—bold, expressive, and unapologetically modern. Known for pushing the boundaries of contemporary dance, the company delivered a performance that blended high-energy athleticism with thought-provoking themes. While its structure presented challenges for the audience, there was no denying the passion and commitment of the dancers.

From the outset, the show signaled that it would be more than just a display of technical dance skills. The opening piece, a stirring meditation on love, hope, and faith, was deeply rooted in the African American experience. The dancers moved with fluid grace and powerful intent, their movements accentuated by a minimalist set featuring a screen projecting historical and contemporary images of civil rights struggles. The visual storytelling added depth to the performance, creating an immediate emotional impact.

However, what initially seemed like a single cohesive narrative soon revealed itself to be a series of distinct and loosely connected pieces. The abrupt interludes between segments disrupted the natural rhythm of the performance, leading to moments of confusion. Each time the lights came up, many audience members mistakenly assumed the show had reached it's conclusion, only to be informed that it was just a brief pause. This fragmented structure made it difficult to fully engage with the performance, as any emotional momentum built during one segment was often lost in the transition to the next.

Despite this, the thematic core of the first half remained strong. Many of the pieces explored the idea of wearing a mask—both literally and figuratively—reflecting the societal pressures to conform while concealing one’s true identity. The dancers alternated between moments of poised elegance and bursts of chaotic, almost frantic energy, reinforcing the tension between control and unrest. The accompanying music followed a similar trajectory, starting with smooth, jazz-infused melodies before building into discordant, overlapping layers of sound. This intentional shift created a sense of unease, drawing the audience into the emotional complexity of the themes.

The second half took a noticeably different approach, shifting away from overt storytelling and instead focusing on showcasing the dancers’ versatility and technical prowess. The music adopted a more upbeat tone, incorporating Latin and modern house influences, which allowed the performers to engage in more playful, dynamic routines. The energy in the theatre began to lift, as the pieces became more vibrant and engaging. Unfortunately, the extended runtime of the show, which exceeded its advertised duration by nearly an hour, meant that many audience members had already begun to drift away.

It was in these final moments, however, that the performance truly found its stride. The closing numbers were exhilarating, with dancers moving in perfect harmony and embracing the sheer joy of movement. The renowned piece "I Will Survive" provided a powerful and celebratory conclusion, reinforcing themes of resilience and strength. Those who remained until the end were rewarded with a display of both technical mastery and emotional depth, leaving the audience on a high note.

The Lula Washington Dance Theatre is undeniably a company of extraordinary talent. Their ability to seamlessly blend jazz, ballet, hip-hop, and performance art is a testament to their versatility, and their commitment to addressing social issues through dance adds a layer of meaning to their work. However, the structure of this particular performance may have hindered its overall impact. The repeated interludes, coupled with a lengthy runtime, created an experience that was at times disjointed and difficult to fully engage with.

That said, the production was an ambitious and deeply personal exploration of identity, struggle, and hope. While some aspects of its execution may not have fully resonated with the audience, the sheer dedication and passion of the performers were impossible to ignore. It was a performance that demanded attention and reflection—perhaps not an easy watch, but certainly an unforgettable one.

Lula Washington Dance Theatre runs from 13-16 March, 2025 

Venue: Kiri Te Kanawa, Aotea Centre

Duration: 2.5 hours, including interval

Tickets can be purchased here

HISTORY OF HOUSE [TE AHUREI TOI O TĀMAKI AUCKLAND ARTS FESTIVAL 2025]

History of House is a high-energy fusion of dancefloor anthems, powerhouse gospel vocals, and a DJ set for the ages. From disco funk to millennial electropop, this electrifying journey through three decades of dance music will have Auckland Town Hall pulsing—and the party spilling onto Queen Street.

Imagine stepping into a space where the energy of a nightclub collides with the soul-stirring power of a gospel choir, all while a DJ spins an electrifying set that spans decades of dance music. That is the essence of History of House, a show that takes audiences on a journey through 30 years of house music, fusing the infectious beats of club anthems with the soaring vocals of the renowned Soweto Gospel Choir. From the moment the first beat drops, the audience is moving, and by the time the show ends, the energy is still pulsating through Auckland Town Hall and spilling out onto the streets beyond.

The concept behind History of House is deceptively simple: a live DJ set, powerhouse vocalists, and a curated selection of house music classics. But the execution is where it truly shines. The pairing of African gospel singers with the pulsing rhythms of electronic dance music might seem unexpected at first, but it quickly becomes clear that these musical traditions share common roots. Both rely heavily on rhythm, call-and-response vocals, and an undeniable drive that compels people to move.

At the helm of the experience is Australian DJ Groove Terminator (Simon Lewicki), a long-time collaborator with Ministry of Sound. On the other side of the stage, the Soweto Gospel Choir, renowned for their work with legends like U2, Aretha Franklin, and Stevie Wonder, deliver stunning vocal performances. The chemistry between the two elements is instant, creating a relentless, high-octane atmosphere that keeps the audience engaged—at least for the most part.

From the opening beats, the show is a non-stop celebration of house music’s evolution. It kicks off with high-energy adaptations of '90s club anthems, setting the tone for the night before rewinding to the genre’s origins. The journey begins in the disco era of the 1970s with Chic’s Le Freak, before moving into early dance floor staples like Dan Hartman’s Relight My Fire and Donna Summer’s I Feel Love. These tracks establish house music’s strong ties to disco, showcasing the deep grooves and pulsating beats that laid the foundation for what would become one of the most influential music genres in club culture.

The '80s section of the show delivers club classics like Dead or Alive’s You Spin Me Round (Like a Record), Prince’s 1999, and the Eurythmics’ Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This), each given a house-infused twist. This era also highlights the genre’s connection to soul and R&B, with powerful renditions of Aretha Franklin’s Respect and Think. The energy remains at a fever pitch as the show transitions into the '90s and early 2000s, a period often considered the golden age of house music. Songs like Rozalla’s Everybody’s Free and Let Me Show You by Anton Powers and K-Klass provide some of the most exhilarating moments of the night, drawing massive crowd reactions.

The performers’ stage presence is undeniable. Throughout the show, individual members of the Soweto Gospel Choir take turns at the front, each one showcasing vocal brilliance, commanding the stage with flair, or hyping up the audience with dance moves. The show’s format ensures there is never a dull moment—until it slightly loses momentum.

While the energy remains mostly high, the show does experience peaks and troughs. At its best, History of House is an unstoppable force, with the crowd fully immersed in its pulsating beats and soaring melodies. However, at times, the performance leans too heavily into gospel influences, shifting from an exhilarating club experience into something more sermon-like. The encore performance of Hallelujah, for instance, serves as a reminder of house music’s deep gospel roots but also slows the momentum built up over the previous 90 minutes. There are moments where the show feels a little too “preachy,” losing some of the raw, uninhibited energy that makes house music so electrifying.

Despite these occasional dips, the night remains an unforgettable experience. The show’s ability to transform Auckland Town Hall into a makeshift nightclub is no small feat. Even those seated in the balcony—where standing space is limited—are encouraged to get on their feet, a testament to the performers’ ability to engage every corner of the room. The atmosphere is one of inclusivity, celebration, and pure joy, echoing the essence of house music itself. The genre has always been about creating a safe, liberating space for people, particularly those on the fringes of society, and this show honours that legacy.

Logistically, the event runs smoothly, though it is worth arriving early. The opening night was delayed by 30 minutes due to the process of getting all 1,700 attendees through the doors, with the usual bag checks and restrictions on outside food and drink causing minor bottlenecks. With no intermission, the show demands stamina—coming well-rested and hydrated is highly recommended, as is bringing a friend to share in the experience.

For those expecting a structured history lesson on house music, the show does not take that approach. Instead, it offers a more immersive experience, letting the music tell its own story. House music, after all, has never been neatly documented in official histories; its origins lie in underground parties and word-of-mouth events. The genre thrives on reinvention, with endless remixes and samples blurring the lines between original tracks and new creations. This fluidity is both a strength and a challenge when trying to present a definitive narrative.

History of House delivers what it promises: a high-energy, dance-fuelled spectacle that celebrates the genre’s evolution while giving audiences a night to remember. It may have its lulls, particularly when it strays too far into gospel territory, but overall, it is a dynamic and electrifying experience. By the time the last beat fades out, the audience is left buzzing, a testament to house music’s enduring power to bring people together and keep them moving.

Whether you are a die-hard house music fan or just looking for a night of infectious rhythms and powerhouse vocals, History of House is an experience that will leave you breathless, exhilarated, and maybe even still dancing long after you’ve left the venue.

History of House was performed for one night only on March 12, 2025 and was part of a larger Auckland Arts Festival running from 6-23 March, 2025.
Check out other AAF events here

THE LAST SHOWGIRL (2024)

A seasoned showgirl must plan for her future when her show abruptly closes after a 30-year run.

The Last Showgirl is a thought-provoking character-driven film that explores themes of aging, resilience, and the haunting realization of lost dreams. Directed by Gia Coppola and written by Kate Gersten, the film presents a captivating portrait of Shelly, a once-glamorous showgirl on the brink of an uncertain future. With Pamela Anderson in the lead role, The Last Showgirl delves deep into Shelly’s emotional turmoil, as she grapples with the closure of her long-running Las Vegas show, which has been her identity for the past 30 years.

The film’s narrative takes a backseat to its exploration of Shelly's inner world, focusing on her complex emotions as she faces the end of an era. The storyline doesn’t have the sharpest structure, yet it draws audiences in by centering on Shelly’s vulnerability and her fear of losing everything she has worked for. It’s a study of the fragility of a life built on fame and beauty, and the inevitable collision between the past and the future.

At the heart of The Last Showgirl is Shelly's looming sense of loss. Anderson, known for her iconic role in Baywatch, embodies Shelly in a way that feels deeply personal and raw. The parallels between Anderson’s own career and Shelly’s are hard to ignore, and this familiarity brings a layer of authenticity to the performance. Anderson’s portrayal of Shelly is nuanced, capturing her bubbly optimism as well as her sharp awareness of her aging body and the limitations of her career. There’s an intimacy to her performance, a vulnerability that speaks volumes, and it’s one of the film's strongest elements. Despite a somewhat underdeveloped narrative, Anderson’s performance stands as a testament to her range, showing that she can transcend the roles she’s been typecast in and offer something truly moving.

Coppola’s direction is primarily interested in the emotional and psychological lives of her characters rather than pushing the plot forward with traditional story beats. The Last Showgirl takes a leisurely, almost meditative approach to its pacing. The film dwells in quiet moments, offering glimpses into Shelly’s life offstage, where she is seen walking through the mundane aspects of daily existence—shopping for groceries, cooking dinner with friends, and navigating the awkward distance between herself and her estranged daughter, Hannah (Billie Lourd). These scenes give Shelly a human dimension, contrasting the glitz and glamour of her stage persona with the reality of aging out of a career that once made her feel vital and desired.

The show’s abrupt cancellation acts as a catalyst for Shelly’s reflection on the choices she’s made. What seemed like a vibrant, thriving life now feels hollow and uncertain. Shelly finds herself questioning her place in the world, grappling with the realization that her identity has been built on something superficial. Her relationship with her daughter, strained by years of neglect, further emphasizes the emotional toll of Shelly’s life choices. The film delicately explores Shelly's regrets, but also her desire for redemption, as she tries to rebuild the fractured connection with her daughter, though it’s painfully evident that time may have run out.

While the narrative itself may not be the film’s strongest suit, The Last Showgirl excels in creating an atmosphere of empathy for its protagonist. Shelly’s sense of impending loss is palpable, and the film encourages viewers to reflect on their own dreams, sacrifices, and the consequences of prioritizing ambition over personal connections. It’s a meditation on the transient nature of fame, where the glamour of the stage quickly fades, and the lights dim on those who once commanded the spotlight.

The casting of Jamie Lee Curtis as Shelly’s best friend, Annette, offers a perfect foil to Shelly’s character. Annette is a former showgirl who now works as a casino waitress, embodying the reality of aging in an industry that thrives on youth and beauty. Curtis delivers a standout performance in a scene where Annette, having been replaced by younger women in her job, dances alone to Bonnie Tyler’s “Total Eclipse of the Heart.” The moment is a powerful expression of both resignation and defiance, capturing the emotional core of the film.

Cinematographer Autumn Durald Arkapaw’s use of anamorphic lenses creates a soft, blurred effect around the edges of the frame, which mirrors the distorted reality of the characters’ lives. The intentional blurring of the background puts the focus squarely on Shelly and her journey, symbolizing her fading sense of purpose and identity. The visual style of The Last Showgirl is both dreamy and gritty, encapsulating the contradictions of a life spent in the limelight and the inevitable decay of time.

Pamela Anderson’s portrayal of Shelly brings a sense of vulnerability that resonates deeply with the audience. Shelly’s journey is one of self-discovery, as she comes to terms with the choices she has made and the dreams that have slipped away. The film acknowledges the sacrifices of women who have lived their lives in the public eye, often seen only for their beauty and not their depth. Shelly’s emotional arc is one of quiet dignity, even in the face of an unforgiving world.

Despite its rich character study, The Last Showgirl leaves several narrative threads unexplored, particularly in relation to Shelly’s strained relationship with her daughter. The film touches on this dynamic but doesn’t delve into it as deeply as one might expect. This lack of resolution adds to the sense of melancholy that pervades the film, underscoring the notion that some things—like lost time—cannot be fixed. However, this also reflects the film's larger theme: that sometimes, life simply moves on, leaving people to reckon with the consequences of their choices.

This is a film about the fragility of dreams and the inevitable confrontation with aging and obsolescence. Shelly’s struggle to redefine herself outside the showgirl persona is both heartbreaking and relatable. The film doesn’t offer easy solutions or tidy resolutions but instead embraces the complexity of its protagonist's emotional journey. Shelly may be a fading star in the eyes of the world, but through Anderson’s heartfelt performance, she is transformed into something far more enduring—a symbol of resilience and the ongoing pursuit of self-worth, even when the lights are dimming.

The Last Showgirl may not have the most compelling plot, but its focus on character, emotional depth, and the delicate handling of Shelly’s struggles elevates it into something much more meaningful. Gia Coppola’s direction and Anderson’s captivating performance make this a film worth experiencing, as it shines a much-needed light on the lives of women who, though often overlooked, possess an inner strength and dignity that transcends the superficial.

The Last Showgirl is in NZ cinemas from March 20, 2025

Runtime: 85 mins

SMASHED - THE NIGHTCAP [TE AHUREI TOI O TĀMAKI AUCKLAND ARTS FESTIVAL 2025]

Get ready for a wild night as Australia's hottest cabaret troupe brings a fast, frisky, and fiercely entertaining Spiegeltent season. Led by the sensational Victoria Falconer, this late-summer spectacle blends drag, burlesque, aerial artistry, and live rock ‘n’ roll for an unforgettable, anything-goes variety show.

If you’re in the mood for a night of unrestrained entertainment, SMASHED – The Nightcap is the show you’ve been waiting for. This late-night spectacle blends circus, cabaret, and live music into an intoxicating mix of high-energy performances, cheeky humour, and dazzling talent. Hosted by the effervescent Victoria Falconer, the show is a non-stop parade of drag, burlesque, acrobatics, and music that refuses to let the audience sit still.

Performing in a stunning Spiegeltent, a mirrored tent that adds a nostalgic touch to the atmosphere, the show feels like a throwback to old-school cabaret with a modern, unapologetic edge. The venue, set up in Aotea Square for the duration of the festival, provides the perfect intimate setting—warm, a little gritty, and designed to let audiences let their hair down and get involved.

From the moment Falconer takes the stage, it’s clear that she isn’t just a host—she’s the heartbeat of the show. A charismatic performer, she keeps the energy high with witty banter, playful teasing, and an array of musical talents, effortlessly switching between violin, accordion, and keyboard. She knows exactly how to warm up the crowd, weaving through the audience with flirtatious charm and well-placed sass, making sure that no one feels like a passive observer.

As each act takes the stage, the show builds into a kaleidoscope of talent. Tynga Williams, making her international cirque debut, is a commanding presence with her fluid movements and magnetic stage charisma. Elektra Shock, a standout drag performer, injects high energy into the night, at one point leading a hilariously over-the-top Britney Spears-inspired aerobics routine. Karlee Misi turns up the heat with a provocative burlesque performance, exuding confidence and playfulness in equal measure.

One of the night’s most mesmerising moments comes from Eva, whose aerial rope performance—set against a backdrop of simulated rain—is nothing short of breathtaking. The combination of strength, elegance, and sheer theatricality makes it a highlight of the night. Meanwhile, Malia Walsh delivers two show-stopping moments: first with a wildly energetic hula hoop routine involving an audience member and a pile of marshmallows, then later with a fire performance set to Burning Down the House—a perfect blend of danger and spectacle.

The show thrives on audience participation, ensuring that everyone is part of the fun. Falconer is an expert at drawing people in, coaxing volunteers on stage, playfully poking fun, and encouraging the crowd to sing, dance, and cheer along. Even those hesitant to engage at first find themselves caught up in the contagious energy of the night.

A particularly fun and unexpected moment comes in the form of a musical pub quiz, led by a local kiwi act. This clever addition allows the audience to play along, adding a sense of unpredictability to the night’s lineup.

But beyond the impressive stunts, seductive burlesque, and powerhouse vocals, SMASHED – The Nightcap is about celebration—of self-expression, diversity, potential and the joy of live performance. It’s a menagerie of queer artistry, filled with bold, unapologetic performances that flood the senses. With the live band delivering a rock ‘n’ roll edge to the evening, the atmosphere remains electric from start to finish.

What makes the show truly special is its ability to appeal to a wide audience. Whether you’re a cabaret aficionado or a newcomer to the world of circus-style variety shows, there is something here for everyone. The carefully curated lineup ensures that no two acts feel the same, providing a rich tapestry of entertainment that keeps audiences engaged.

By the time the night draws to a close, the crowd is buzzing—cheering, clapping, and some even dancing in their seats. SMASHED – The Nightcap isn’t just a performance; it’s an experience. It’s immersive, audacious, and impossible to resist. If you’re looking for a show that will lift your spirits, get your heart racing, and leave you grinning long after the final bow, this is the ticket you need.

In terms of seating, the booths are comfortable, but the supports for the Spiegeltent can obscure the stage, so we definitely recommend picking GA and getting in early to pick the best seats.

Verdict: A wildly entertaining, intoxicating night out. Don’t miss it.

SMASHED - The Nightcap runs from 11-23 March, 2025

Venue: Spiegeltent, Aotea Centre

Duration: 1 hour 15 mins, no interval

Tickets can be purchased here