Movie Review: Magic Mike

The much-talked about Magic Mike (talked about because it involves male strippers, so people can feel a frisson of naughtiness just attending the movie) is surprisingly good.  The movie manages to be simultaneously very funny, quite risqué, deeply depressing, and unexpectedly heart-warming. It works because Channing Tatum (or do I mean Tatum Channing?  I can never keep the guy’s name straight) is a genuine acting talent, with a gorgeous body, and real dancing skill.  It also works because Matthew McConaughey, who was always a bit too sleazy to make it as a romantic lead, burns up the screen as a sleazy strip club owner, who keeps his stable of dancers both inspired and in line.

The plot is fairly simple:  Tatum plays Magic Mike who is not so much a hustler as he is a striver.  He’s constantly on the move, trying this and trying that as a way to fund his real goal of become a custom furniture maker.  He doesn’t take advantage of other people, but he cheats himself by sticking to the lucrative, but degrading, stripping business, for which he has a genuine talent.

Mike’s self-delusions about a “future” in the strip club business are encouraged by his employer, the narcissistic, slick, but weirdly charismatic Dallas, a fully realized, but very unpleasant character that McConaughey makes his own. Mike thinks he’s working his way to being an equity partner with Dallas, but it becomes apparent within minutes of his first screen appearance that Dallas doesn’t share.  He’s a petty demagogue who nurses “the talent” solely for his own self-aggrandizement.

Mike is drifting along, womanizing, drinking, and drugging, even as he tries to keep track of all his little money-making schemes in pursuit of his furniture design goal.  His life reaches a crossroad when he meets Adam (aka “The Kid”), played by Alex Pettyfer with aimless, juvenile charm.  Adam blew off a football scholarship, and is now crashed on his sister’s couch.

Mike takes pity on this lost soul, and introduces him to the world of stripping, which instantly appeals to Adam.  Mike then meets Adam’s down-to-earth sister, Brooke (played by a pleasantly non-surgically augmented Cody Horn).  When she expresses her dismay at Adam’s new career path, Mike promises Brooke that he’ll watch out for Adam.

And that’s the movie’s premise:  Mike, by keeping his eye on Adam, gains an unpleasant perspective on his narrow, tarnished little world, even as Adam, awash in sex and money, loses his perspective.  I won’t say anything more other than to say that the movie decently, and intelligently, plays the characters along to a reasonably satisfying, and somewhat surprising, resolution.

For those of you planning to see the movie, a few warnings about the movie’s sex content:  It’s high, so high that I’m surprised it only has an R rating and not an NC-17.  Both male and female (especially male) characters just manage to avoid total nudity.  Even if that doesn’t bother you, understand that this is nudity and sex without love or any other uplifting emotional content (such as liking someone, or even knowing who they are).  The dancers, buffed, shaved, tanned, and polished, writhe around on the floor or wiggle their crotches in the faces of the screaming women in the audience at the strip club, and otherwise display such exaggerated sexuality that most of the people in the audience were screaming with laughter.

I laughed with everyone else, but inside I shuddered.  You see, despite all the nudity and sex on display, Magic Mike is a surprisingly unsexy movie.  Whether or not Tatum and Director Steven Soderbergh intended to do so, they made what amounts to a cautionary tale about sex devoid of any human connection.  For the most part, it’s all rather gross.  Watching from what must be an old-fashioned female perspective, I found the male dancing more homoerotic than hetero-erotic.  I love watching good dancers, but watching men simulate sex on stage was unappealing, to say the least.  This best way I can describe it is to say that the sex and faux-sex was the scary dehumanization of what the Judeo-Christian culture envisions as a core human connection.  It therefore didn’t surprise me that Soderbergh had a miniature pig wander through many of the scenes involving both this peculiarly lonely sex and its often ugly aftermath.

Don’t let Magic Mike’s stripper theme deter you from seeing it.  This is a good story about a lost, but decent, young man who is trying to “get it right.”  It’s also, despite all the sordid displays of flesh and sundry other vulgarities, quite the morality tale.

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  • https://picasaweb.google.com/102427392960537405774 Kevin_B

    I’m surprised how you were able to find so much seemingly good in a movie that sounds like a hill-sized pile of squalid, stinking manure, Bookworm. 
     
    Whatever the morality lesson from this movie, and despite you saying to not let the theme deter you, it does exactly that for me. This is not a movie I’ll see.
     
    I agree with your take on the ‘unsexiness’ of these scenes of nudity and sex, on display in all their butt-naked “glory”. I find nearly all displays of sexuality in movies (and many TV shows) to be rather squalid. And I also agree on the cause… the lack of human connection, the dehumanization and the mechanization. The only sex scenes that in my opinion have any saving grace, are those that try to bring in some aspects of human connection – and they are rare and far in between, and also difficult to portray. I’m not fond of sex in movies and TV shows in general. I might avoid some movies and shows that are just too sleazy and have, as part of their premise, plenty of such scenes. If a movie or show contains a few of such scenes, I will watch them… but rarely like them.
     
    On another note, which may be rather off-topic, the sex in these movies and TV shows is often of the most squalid kind. You know, casual, promiscuous, one-night stands et cetera. Usually displayed in all its “glory”, and in my opinion rarely mocked, indeed, often positively portrayed. The only kind of sex often mocked, ridiculed or even said not to exist, is the monogamous kind, especially the monogamous kind within marriage or a commited relationship. I find that squalid.