(back to front): Joe Manganiello, Kevin Nash, Matt Bomer, Adam Rodriguez, Channing Tatum.
Let's not be a tease about it. Here's what Magic Mike XXL most decidedly isn't: a retread of Steven Soderbergh's 2012 capitalists-in-thongs romp. Summer sequels all too often pride themselves in giving you more of what put asses in seats the first time around, and what's astonishing about this Fourth of July weekend release is that it goes in a different direction, opting to not only give you less of the working-class naturalism that gave its predecessor its distinctive, Florida-based appeal, but to strip away elements like plot and conflict to their bare essentials. It's loose and meandering and sloppily put together in places, but by golly, it had me in the palm of its hand by the time it reached its jubilant finale.
Three years have passed, and Tampa-area hunk Mike Lane, played once again by the ubiquitous Channing Tatum, is carrying on with his furniture business. When we last saw him, he'd left his career as a scantily clad showman behind and settled for what promised to be a life of domestic bliss with his girlfriend Brooke (Cody Horn). And he hasn't looked back … until a phone call from former stripping buddy Richie (Joe Manganiello) opens up a dam full of memories. News of a mutual acquaintance's passing turns out to be a ruse. Richie, you see, has gotten all the boys together for one last hurrah at a convention of male entertainers in Myrtle Beach, and the gig just wouldn't be complete without their star performer.
LEFT: (from left): Matt Bomer, Channing Tatum , RIGHT: (from left): Joe Manganiello, Channing Tatum.
Is Mike ready to pick up where he left off? Is he prepared to ease back into those killer moves that made him a favorite at the ladies club run by the enterprising Dallas (Matthew McConaughey), now running a similar business overseas? Will he be able to make peace with Ken (Matt Bomer), who's still sore over Mike's decision to jump ship? Most films would mine all that conflict and build their narrative about them, but not Magic Mike XXL. Working from a threadbare, seemingly half-improvised screenplay by Reid Carolin, director Gregory Jacobs of the Nine Queens U.S. remake Criminal fame – stamps out those viable story strands, nipping them in the bud during their embryonic stage. Just what is going to propel this road movie in the absence of an actual plot?
For a while, it seems Magic Mike XXL is adrift, coasting on the charm of its stars while risking the alienation of its target audience. The men's random banter appears to lay bare the notion that Jacobs aided by Soderbergh, who returns as cinematographer under his Peter Andrews alias doesn't have much of a plan.
Sure, watching Richie try to garner a bored gas station convenience store clerk's attention using only a box of Cheetos and bottled water has plenty of appeal, but I found myself asking, where is this movie going? Almost imperceptibly, however, an endgame emerges, and it hit this reviewer like a warm, balmy breeze. Unlike the first Magic Mike, which focused on these men's pursuit of the American dream, this sequel shifts the emphasis to the ways their stage performances intuit the desires and needs of their audience. An early scene set at a Jacksonville gay bar, which shows Mike and his buddies voguing their way to the patrons' good graces, proclaims loud and clear that this isn't going to be a carbon copy of the original Mike. (They're an adaptable bunch, these guys.)
LEFT AND RIGHT: Channing Tatum.
Jacobs and Carolin's intention become even more defined during the extended sequence that follows, in which Mike looks up Rome (Jada Pinkett-Smith), an old flame now running a women's private club in Savannah, to lend a helping hand. The film explores its setting with a voyeur's fascination, as Rome's boy toys delight the (predominantly African-American) clientele, giving way to some impromptu numbers that are in keeping with the film m.o. of unfolding like an on-the-fly musical of sorts. These stud muffins are eager to put on a show, and they don't care if you've got some extra pounds or don't quite possess movie-star looks. You're a beauty to them, as long as the spotlight's on.
And what happens when it's off? The men of Magic Mike XXL are always on call, even when they're sitting in the sea of beige that's the living room of a Charleston matriarch's mansion, turning on a group of Southern cougars, not by stimulating their bodies, but by engaging their minds.
In the film's most poignant moment, Ken becomes a therapist to a sexually repressed homemaker who admits she's never had sex with the lights on. Nancy (Andie McDowell, having a ball), the homeowner, admits she's only been intimate with her now ex-husband. It all falls into place during that candid get-together, and it's not until then one realizes there's hardly been any nudity up to this point, and all sexual activity occurs off screen. For a movie called XXL, this is a notably sexless, platonic affair, and that's really refreshing.
Gone are the annoying story elements drug dealing subplot, wet-blanket love interest that marred part one. In place of Soderbergh's cerebral approach to sex and flesh-baring is a generosity toward these male entertainers, an attentiveness to what gives women pleasure, and an understanding that ultimate carnal fulfillment doesn't arrive until you stop thinking about giving people what you think they want.
LEFT: (from left): Jada Pinkett-Smith, Channing Tatum , RIGHT: (from left): Adam Rodriguez, Kevin Nash, Matt Bomer, Channing Tatum, Joe Manganiello, Gabriel Iglesias.
In short, Magic Mike XXL is a feature-length metaphor about thinking outside the box. It's bound to frustrate viewers seeking a more conventional male-stripper yarn, but it also delivers a hell of a good time for those willing to settle into its easygoing vibe, especially during its climactic, impeccably choreographed showcase, which sent me home with a big, goofy grim plastered on my face. It's less concerned with Mike's flawless torso than it is with his emotional journey, a point Jacobs brings home during a group shot of the men launching into their act that suddenly zooms in to Tatum, who has never been more radiant.
And then he smiles. As money shots go, this one's pretty darn satisfying.
