Paul Verhoeven's Showgirls (1995)

Showgirls was very badly received both critically and by the general public, and many still appear to have the same opinion. Yes, it's overblown – no pun intended – horrendously tacky, and most of the characters are scarcely believable. But so what? This is how this extremely strong criticism of various extremes of the erotic dance industry – and by extension the world of runaway capitalism and easy money – is intended to look, with its commodification, its objectification of women. Everyone, it seems, can be bought if the place is right, and men (if they have the power) can do what they like with women if the price is right, or even they choose to take it for free. It's a world where people commonly seriously hurt their best friend if that friend is famous and they can take their place, where if you have pots of money anything you're responsible for – even multiple rape (and this is long before Harvey Weinstein) – will just be swept under the carpet, no police involved and no questions asked.

This is rags to (future) riches, but then back again for Nomi (Elizabeth Berkley), as she moves to Las Vegas at the beginning and on to Los Angeles at the end, in the same truck driven by the same lowlife guy on both occasions, the same guy who picks her up hitching both times. It's refreshing that two of the main actors – Molly (Gina Rivera) and James (Glenn Plummer) – are non-white and are the most sympathetic characters.