Why the Hell Watch “Pandemic?”

Desperate times call for the best in dreck.

My husband and I started watching Pandemic on Netflix, because of all the hype and well…just because.

We quickly gave up on it because as my guy stated, “This pales compared to real life.” And he’s right.

Plus, and I can’t speak for you, but my anxiety level is already through the roof. So much so that I’m giving myself permission to wash down a Xanax with a glass of vino at 3 pm if necessary. Followed by a couple of gummies if I’m craving something sweet. And then…lights out.

Just kidding, friends. If I turned in that early, how would I be able to churn out all this content, huh? And right now, what I’m churning out for you is a directive to just turn off the news…stop watching TV shows and movies about deadly viruses…and lose yourself in some really great trash. As in movies that are so bad they’re good.

I’d thought I’d begin with one of my favorite guilty pleasures and a stinker of such magnitude that you have to wonder how and why this redolent piece of dung got financed. Ready?

I’m talkin’ about Showgirls! Remember that one? It stars Elizabeth Berkley from “Saved by the Bell,” a show that I never watched. (I guess that means I’ve yet to be “saved.”)

Also in this deliciously-twisted mix are Kyle MacLachlan and Gina Gershon, who is so fucking awesome with her white-trashy delivery, she steals nearly every scene. I love this chick!

Written by the uber-pervy Joe Estzerhas, who also wrote such sex-soaked classics as Basic Instinct, Sliver, and Jade, the film details the rise of Nomi Malone, (Berkley), a young drifter who lands in Las Vegas with one suitcase to her name, a big dream, and from the looks of it, a shit-ton of lip gloss.

In fact, after seeing a few closeups of not only Berkley’s treacly pout but Gershon’s, you’ll want to wipe down your TV screen. (Remember to wash those hands, after.)

So Nomi (catchy name, that), dreams of becoming a showgirl. Not just any showgirl, but a headliner at one of the most popular hotels on the strip, the high-profile Stardust Hotel.

After Nomi’s one suitcase with all her belongings is ripped-off by the guy she hitched a ride to Vegas with, Molly, a sweet young thing who works as a seamstress for the Stardust, befriends Nomi, who we’ll find has severe anger issues and even takes her in.

After sitting on her perfect ass for a couple of weeks, while doing her nails and stuffing herself full of potato chips, Nomi lands a job at a seedy strip club called the Cheetah.

One night Molly, who sews the costumes for the showgirls at the Stardust, brings Nomi backstage as a “treat.” There, she meets the star of the show, Crystal Connors (Gershon), who immediately starts to tingle in her nether regions when she gets a look at Nomi.

The bi-sexual Crystal, whose boyfriend Zack, (MacLachlan), is the hotel’s entertainment director, verbally humiliates Nomi when she finds out where she works. Why? Because she can.

This definitely puts Nomi’s scanty panties in a bunch, but what’s a girl to do but soldier on?

One night, Crystal and Zack visit the Cheetah and Crystal pays Nomi for a private “dance,” which is one of many wonderfully ludicrous scenes in the movie.

Crystal sits in a corner and watches, the drool practically drizzling from her lips, as Nomi, in her birthday suit (we’re talkin’ full-on naked), gyrates over Zack, who is clearly digging every minute of it. So clear, in fact, that we lucky viewers are treated to the sight of his erection poking through his designer knickers. Bong!

I don’t want to get too deep into this scene as it’s something you really need to see for yourself. It’s an effin’ hoot, friends! And far be it for me to ruin it for you.

In fact, I’m not going to reveal much more than I already have, other than to tell you, in full disclosure, that the sex scenes in this movie — and there are, as is Estzerhaus’ want, several — so absurdly-staged that they might put you off the act entirely, or at the very least, throw up in your mouth a little.

Suffice it to say that damn near everyone gets it on. Crystal and Zack. Zack and Nomi. Crystal and Nomi (almost). Nomi and this other guy (while she’s riding the crimson wave, yet), and on and on.

I can’t imagine what Berkley and Gershon had to do to get into Showgirls shape but they both kill it. I can’t say for sure, but I think their tits are real! Gershon’s are especially perky.

One of the aforementioned sex scenes takes place between Nomi and Zack in a swimming pool, and if you can watch this without busting a gut, well, you’re probably a Trump supporter.

As Zack tries to keep from blowing his wad (literally), Nomi bucks and gyrates so vigorously, as to suggest a seizure as opposed to anything remotely sexual.

As career moves go, I’m not sure that Berkeley, Gershon, and MacLachlan would consider Showgirls to be their defining moment so to speak, but you have to give them credit for giving the script their all.

Showgirls is high camp elevated to top-of-the-line dreck and, in this writer’s opinion, is deserving of a top spot in your viewing lineup.

So please, for the sake of your sanity and all that is unholy, forget Pandemic and Contagion and all the other pre-and-post-apocalyptic “entertainment.” We’re already living that shit.

Sherry McGuinn is a slightly-twisted, longtime Chicago-area writer and award-winning screenwriter. Her work has appeared in The Chicago Tribune, Chicago Sun-Times, and numerous other publications. Sherry’s manager is currently pitching her newest screenplay, a drama with dark, comedic overtones and inspired by a true story.

Thanks so much for reading. If you enjoyed this, you might like the stories below, as well.

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