C+Directed by Gregory Jacobs Starring Channing Tatum, Joe Manganiello, and Jada Pinkett-Smith Review by Jon Kissel |  |
Magic Mike, Steven Soderbergh's male stripper romp, provided not only a star-making turn for Channing Tatum, but also kicked off the McConaissance, as Matthew McConaughey leaned so far into his persona as a bongo-playing sex fiend that he came out the other end having rediscovered how to pick good projects. The sequel, Magic Mike XXL, begins with Tatum's Mike out of the sex game and having fulfilled his dream of starting a furniture business. He gets a call that McConaughey's Dallas has died, and after traveling to what he thinks is a funeral, it's revealed that Dallas has not died, but left the country to pursue international success. This ruse establishes how low the stakes are going to be for the remainder of this film, a place where the financial scrambling and dehumanization of the original is replaced with a full embrace of good-time bro's having a good time. The result is a film that is as much fun as the original, but one with no lingering presence.
After the aforementioned funeral fakeout, the old gang tries to get Mike to rejoin them for one last hurrah at a stripping convention. He initially rejects the call, but can't resist after hearing Ginuwine's Pony in his workshop. Stripping is in his blood, and it's soon joined by club drugs as the reconstituted Kings of Tampa pile into an old ice cream truck and head to Myrtle Beach. Along the way, several members lament their low-stakes problems, like Mike's furniture business' early struggles, Ken's (Matt Bomer) difficulties becoming an actor, and Big Dick Richie (Joe Manganiello) having too big a dick to have sex. To perk themselves up from these stresses, Mike suggests they all jettison their old, Dallas-dictated routines of stripper tropes, and instead perform in ways that represent who they are and what they want when they get to Myrtle Beach, which they do, with minimal fuss.
Soderbergh stepped away from the directing chair for XXL, choosing instead to shoot and edit the film as he so often does. Gregory Jacobs takes over as director, while Reid Carolin returns as the writer. Jacobs never really impresses, as the most interesting aspect of XXL is Carolin's script this time out. Where the original honestly captured the many different income streams necessary for a non-college educated person to potentially chase his dreams, the sequel suggests that maybe those dreams aren't going to happen, no matter what. The Myrtle Beach convention isn't treated as a new avenue to stripping wealth or opportunity or even an event with a prize or judges, but as the beginning of the rest of the characters' lives. This chapter is ending, but Magic Mike has a reputation as a flouncy good time, so any bittersweetness has to be leavened. The characters essentially act like the denizens of Friday Night Lights, where they are actively living in the best days of their lives, knowing that from here, it's all downhill, back to degrading interviews and dwindling furniture sales.
Having committed to being a hang-out film where everything is solved by multiple deus ex machina's, the cast excels at following Jacobs down this path. XXL, as expected, is a lot of fun despite how silly and frivolous it is. A stop at a gas station gives Manganiello the beginning, middle, and end of his career highlight reel, as he'll probably never top it. An interlude at a plantation-turned-male-strip-club is downright revolutionary, as this building that used to be dedicated to black misery has now been turned into a house of black pleasure by madam Jada Pinkett Smith and deejay Donald Glover. The Kings charm the pants off of a group of middle-aged women in another detour, reminding them that they are sexy and deserving of satisfaction from their negligent husbands. Led by Tatum's kinetic dancing and easy charisma, this group of bro's don't descend into bro stereotypes, remaining earnestly worshipful of any and all women they encounter.
Of course, Magic Mike XXL does exist in a world where good-looking white dudes already do pretty well for themselves, so whether a film with so little to say deserves points for being so unconcerned with the usual expectations like plot and conflict is an open question. Unlike Richard Linklater's similar Everybody Wants Some, this feels like a fantasy and not a thoughtful representation of a subculture. Additionally, the impossibility of a gender-flipped version, where Magic Michaela boosts the confidence of beta males by grinding on them, makes the whole endeavor feel a little icky. As a collection of scenes without much of a throughline, the film succeeds on the strength of several of those individual scenes. The complete picture is less appealing. Seeking out the best scenes on youtube is a fine way to experience Magic Mike XXL. C+
Soderbergh stepped away from the directing chair for XXL, choosing instead to shoot and edit the film as he so often does. Gregory Jacobs takes over as director, while Reid Carolin returns as the writer. Jacobs never really impresses, as the most interesting aspect of XXL is Carolin's script this time out. Where the original honestly captured the many different income streams necessary for a non-college educated person to potentially chase his dreams, the sequel suggests that maybe those dreams aren't going to happen, no matter what. The Myrtle Beach convention isn't treated as a new avenue to stripping wealth or opportunity or even an event with a prize or judges, but as the beginning of the rest of the characters' lives. This chapter is ending, but Magic Mike has a reputation as a flouncy good time, so any bittersweetness has to be leavened. The characters essentially act like the denizens of Friday Night Lights, where they are actively living in the best days of their lives, knowing that from here, it's all downhill, back to degrading interviews and dwindling furniture sales.
Having committed to being a hang-out film where everything is solved by multiple deus ex machina's, the cast excels at following Jacobs down this path. XXL, as expected, is a lot of fun despite how silly and frivolous it is. A stop at a gas station gives Manganiello the beginning, middle, and end of his career highlight reel, as he'll probably never top it. An interlude at a plantation-turned-male-strip-club is downright revolutionary, as this building that used to be dedicated to black misery has now been turned into a house of black pleasure by madam Jada Pinkett Smith and deejay Donald Glover. The Kings charm the pants off of a group of middle-aged women in another detour, reminding them that they are sexy and deserving of satisfaction from their negligent husbands. Led by Tatum's kinetic dancing and easy charisma, this group of bro's don't descend into bro stereotypes, remaining earnestly worshipful of any and all women they encounter.
Of course, Magic Mike XXL does exist in a world where good-looking white dudes already do pretty well for themselves, so whether a film with so little to say deserves points for being so unconcerned with the usual expectations like plot and conflict is an open question. Unlike Richard Linklater's similar Everybody Wants Some, this feels like a fantasy and not a thoughtful representation of a subculture. Additionally, the impossibility of a gender-flipped version, where Magic Michaela boosts the confidence of beta males by grinding on them, makes the whole endeavor feel a little icky. As a collection of scenes without much of a throughline, the film succeeds on the strength of several of those individual scenes. The complete picture is less appealing. Seeking out the best scenes on youtube is a fine way to experience Magic Mike XXL. C+
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