Showgirls 2: Penny’s from Heaven (2011)

directed by Rena Riffel

Sam Distefano

I made the naïve decision to pursue art as a career because I thought I was too dumb for anything else. I don’t mean this in a “woe is me” way. I have a debilitating misunderstanding of math and science, and having grown up on a steady diet of crayons, comic books, and movies (but too nervous to move to LA! Too nervous to do literally anything!), it seemed like a logical choice. Doing art for life, uninterrupted and guided by my own creative impulses, seemed like a halfway decent deal. High school offered little to no guidance in my creative process, aside from pushing me to make art that I “felt.” I could do that, and I could also ignore anyone who said that this wasn’t a feasible career.

During my first college critique, my professor singled out my drawing as the worst in the class. I mean, I’ll be the first to admit that I honestly didn’t try. Drawing a stack of cardboard boxes didn’t fit into my art style, so why should I bother? I remembered visiting colleges before enrolling and seeing gigantic spray-painted murals. At the time, that seemed like hell-yeah-capital-A Art. And this was not that.

Art school turned a seemingly lawless concept into what I perceived as a precision exercise. The rigorous exposure to the technical side of art left a bitter taste in my mouth, leaving me firmly standing on my own two feet in terms of industry knowledge and historical art movements, but with the ability to find flaws in anything I created without established guidelines—whether they be branding, perspective, proportion, what have you. I worked hard to get where I was, but when I got there, I was unhappy with anything I touched.

I didn’t like calling myself an artist. Nothing I made was good enough, and my hands weren’t the tools I thought they were.

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I learned about myself outside the studio too—I came out, formed relationships deeper than any I’d had before. I discovered (and was at times consumed by) anxiety. Expressing any of these major “life-changing” events within the parameters of what I perceived art should be seemed impossible. I dabbled in writing when I was unhappy with visual expression, but my poetry and occasional prose seemed trite.

Since graduating six years ago, I have scarcely created anything outside of professional necessity, and if so, it’s been a doodle here and there. I think this is as much anxiety as education, but that’s neither here nor there. Graphic Design comes with rules and established brand guidelines and the like. I was subservient as an artist, which was comfortable. I didn’t have to make shit I was disappointed in myself for bringing into this world. If a vision did not fit into the brand guidelines, I mentally trashed it. I just didn’t want to break art’s rules.

I’d also discovered a fondness for painting in my later college years, but couldn’t find the same confidence outside of the studio. I threw away all of the paints. Most I’d inherited from my professor. The paint jars were charred; they had survived a fire that had claimed half her house. She really had no idea how they made it, but she wanted me to have them.

I regret getting rid of them pretty much every day.

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The first time I saw Showgirls was some time in the midst of my most formative education. It screened during a local theater’s (now defunct, I think) “Mondo Movie Mondays” series, which essentially played out as an excuse for people to yell during the screening. This movie was the most explosive and brazen I’d ever seen—despite the mocking and cackling of most of the audience, I was absolutely taken with the completely foreign saga of Nomi and the sheer chaos around her as she claimed her place as a dancer in Goddess.

I was thrilled to discover that there was a sequel, Showgirls 2: Penny’s From Heaven, starring/written/edited/directed by Rena Riffel, who’d played a minor role in the first film, Penny Slot. Her character was a storytelling tool to show Nomi’s induction into the Cheetah’s family without really showing it. Her story is deeply interwoven in the Showgirls DNA, as she ends up with James, one of Nomi’s potential suitors and one of the few characters that carries into the sequel. This knowledge sat appreciated and untouched until I stumbled upon the DVD on Amazon in 2020. I immediately ordered it.

There was little press about Showgirls 2: Penny’s From Heaven, besides in relation to another potential sequel, titled Showgirls: Exposed, directed by Marc Vorlander (which is supposed to be absolutely wretched and is described in multiple outlets as a “music photo play,” decidedly not a real thing). Riffel was initially starring in Vorlander’s movie, but they spun into two separate projects due to creative differences. Most of the articles seem to focus on Riffel making this film happen and the “race” between the two directors to deliver a proper Showgirls sequel.

Both were released to, based on my research, little to no success. Vorlander’s “music photo play” (again, not a thing) is no longer for sale and was banned in some countries for using copyrighted footage.

I still haven’t been able to get my hands on it.

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Nothing about Penny’s From Heaven hits the same notes as its predecessor. Verhoeven’s overly polished film is followed by a micro-budgeted and largely handheld, digitally shot stream-of-consciousness in the vein of Lynch’s Inland Empire. This was a sprawling and surreal nightmare involving a failing T-shirt business, multiple murders, a satanic club, boiled hot dogs, and snuff films. I’ve induced eyerolls specifying that “Penny’s” is not “Pennies”. The distinction is crucial.

I was transfixed for the 145-minute runtime (which, I feel it is important to note, is longer than the original film). This is a film that needs to be seen to be believed. The final result is indescribable, maybe in an unintended way, but it is...singular.

The fact that this is a one-woman effort is both impressive and evident. But there is absolutely no way that this was the final product envisioned at the start. I’ve seen micro-budget films before. But this. There is absolute intention and vision behind each moment. There is a legitimate reason for its runtime. It’s more than a cash grab at a notorious pre-existing intellectual property: it is someone making a movie that they wanted to make, against all odds.

Showgirls 2: Penny’s From Heaven is by no means a traditionally “good movie” (but how do we know how to judge what makes a good movie?), but it is also a fantastic and uncompromising exercise working through budgetary constraints. Some of Riffel’s solutions are cut from the same cloth as other low budget films, but others have so much intention behind them that it’s hard to imagine this as a major motion picture. This film is aware of its imperfections and wears its flaws proudly. I’ve never picked up on a movie so comfortable with and confident in the circumstances of its own creation.

In a 2010 Twitchfilm interview, Riffel described Verhoeven’s Showgirls as her Yentl. There is no way that she would develop, let alone release, anything that she felt would be construed as an insult to the Showgirls name. Penny’s From Heaven, to some (if not most), could be an insult.

But not to me. I think Showgirls 2 broke something inside my dumb brain solely by existing in the same universe as the original film. I could never have fathomed releasing something this strange into the world where inevitable comparisons would be drawn to something held to a high standard, at least on a technical level. This felt like a movie that was coming into existence as I was watching it unfold, and would cease to be when it was over. This movie is so far in on its own joke that it transcends its flaws and becomes something else entirely. Riffel knew there was a story to be told, and told it despite her means being limited. And I think that’s cool. She made anything seem possible.

Art is an ugly and weird process. The outcome can be, too, and that’s more than okay. I only have myself to blame for not creating, and that’s also okay. The point is that this outrageous movie made me want to get my hands dirty again.

There’s a moment in the movie when James confronts Penny, saying, “You know what it is about you? You’re not dumb, you just play dumb.”

Penny responds with, “Like a possum?”

“No. A possum plays dead. Not dumb.”

I guess I’m going to make stuff again. Some things just have to exist.

Sam Distefano is a graphic designer and content creator in Upstate New York. @numbestskull