Movie Review: Magic Mike XXL

It’s the return of the Mike.

The “male entertainers” of Magic Mike XXL make a point of reiterating that they know precisely what women want throughout their film’s 115 minutes.

(Mel Gibson had to be electrocuted in a bathtub before we believed he could achieve same.)

It’s not just talk. They go on to prove it, repeatedly, to the delight of the flick’s many enthusiastic lady participants.

Now, whether or not every heart-broken heterosexual woman on the planet can be made whole by the attention of (and subsequent grinding against) a carved-from-stone exotic dancer by the name of “Tarzan” is not a question these dudes are willing to ponder.

Still, if laughter is figuratively the best medicine, the crowd-pleasing moves of the Kings of Tampa must at least be in the top five.

Star, producer and real-life inspiration Channing Tatum returns as “Magic” Mike Lane in this sequel to his defining 2012 hit. (It’s hard to recall now, but there was a time when Tatum was considered a charisma-free hunk, dutifully dollied out for mediocre dramas with arbitrary names like The Eagle and Fighting. He recently snipped the last lingering thread of that era by announcing he hated tentpole tryout G.I. Joe: Rise of the Cobra. Seconded.)

Steven Soderbergh, still retired from feature directing, is clearly as intoxicated by Tatum and his sensitive troupe of male strippers as the movie’s extras, because he’s back too, as cinematographer and editor, working under the pseudonyms Peter Andrews and Mary Ann Bernard. His long-time producer Gregory Jacobs takes over the directorial wheel, however the picture’s look and feel – the visual temperature, natural lighting and photographic crispness - is Soderbergh all over.

Tatum, knowing what viewers want even more than his character does, doubles down on the dancing and ups the comedy, bringing along some of that semi-improvised flavour he likely learned on the set from 21 Jump Street. (You can feel the presence of Jonah Hill, like Obi-Wan’s ghost, in scenes where Tatum and his buddies ricochet from teasing one another to madly professing their love. Sadly, that ghost never materialises, denying us the opportunity to witness Hill’s performance of “Freek’n You”.)

Reid Carolin’s script jettisons the mentorship-based plot of Magic Mike – and the superfluous Alex Pettyfer with it – and instead simply pairs the retired Mike with his former colleagues for one final fling. Missing the bright lights and affection that his erstwhile career provided (and that his current furniture making business decidedly does not), he agrees to join Ken (Matt Bomer), Richie (Joe Manganiello), Tito (Adam Rodriguez) and Tarzan (Kevin Nash) on a road trip to a stripper convention in Myrtle Beach. Apparently that's a thing.

Having been abandoned by their MC Dallas (Matthew McConaughey, conspicuously absent), the five-some want one last shot at exhibiting their wares before returning to crushing reality. (The post-GFC financial fear of its predecessor can be felt here.) If you’re worried that their surely-Lynx-body-spray-stinking van is a roaming threat to womankind, fear not: these guys are vulnerable sweeties.

Ken merely wants to heal the ladies of the world and Richie is just looking for love. Newbie Andre (Donald Glover) improvises inspirational, self-esteem boosting raps for his female admirers. Mike focuses his attention on improving the mood of amateur photographer and sadsack Zoe (Amber Heard). All of them have the pure intention of wanting to make women “smile.” Magic Mike XXL is very careful with its language.

When Jada Pinkett Smith stalks onto the screen as Rome, their new MC, she refers to all women as “queens.” Though the males are of a hugely-specific, not-movie-critic-reminiscent build, every possible feminine configuration is represented. Consent is everywhere. Maybe all of this is being executed cynically; as excuses to empower both parties and make the transaction of flesh appear harmless. Either way, it’s convincing. Everybody is giggling constantly. It’s infectious.

Magic Mike XXL, more so than the original, is goofy and chivalrous, yet the marquee event remains Tatum’s moves. Early on, as he flirts with the idea of joining the fellas on their journey, he privately bumps and grinds around his workshop to the tune of Ginuwine’s “Pony”, like a cut, super-charged Donald O’Connor. It’s a funny, endearing sequence, executed with jaw-dropping physical agility. How his body works is one of our generation’s greatest mysteries.

3.5/5

In cinemas now. Rated MA15+ for strong coarse language and sexual references. For the kid-friendly version of Magic Mike, check this out.