Running Time: 1 hour, 50 minutes (if you watch the whole thing)
Rating: R
Director: Steven Soderbergh
Quick Confession:
This is not a review of Magic Mike. To write a review in good faith, you must first watch the entire movie. And I tried. Actually, I’ve been very excited to see it. For what seems like an eternity (but, in actuality, is probably just since I saw 21 Jump Street and took a sudden interest in Channing Tatum, I’ve been hearing that Steven Soderbergh crafted a canny look into the world of male stripping, telling a story based largely on Channing Tatum’s own experiences as a very young man). It sounded very exciting to me, sort of like Oliver! but with choreography more suited for a Razzie than an Oscar. (Also, obviously, with less singing and way more butt cheeks.)
For a long time I thought I didn’t like Channing Tatum. (Dislike is too strong a word, actually. Apathy hits nearer the mark of what I felt for him.) Then I realized that I just had no interest in all the dumb movies he was in, G.I. Joe being the best of that bunch and the only one I ever actually saw. (The others all seem to fit the title I Love That You Love Me Because You’re Channing Tatum.) But Tatum managed to be quite funny in 21 Jump Street, and also gamely laughed at himself on an episode of Saturday Night Live, so my impression of him improved dramatically.
Now obviously, I’m naïve, because when we went to Magic Mike yesterday to celebrate our fifth anniversary (one day late), I had no idea that my husband would be the only man in the theater. The auditorium was absolutely packed, and he really was the only man there. (We thought we saw one guy sitting up in back early on, but on closer inspection, he turned out to be a woman.) And here’s how I know for sure that my husband was the only man in there.
The movie was probably a little less than half over. The strippers and the breakfast-hating sister of The Kid had all piled onto a boat and headed for a sand bar to celebrate the Fourth of July. After a brief encounter with a too-friendly Olivia Munn and some strange parenting philosophies spouted by Matthew McConaughey, Channing Tatum and Cody Horn were taking a long walk along the beach.
Then suddenly, it happened! With a resounding pop, the screen went dark. In the same instant, the auditorium filled with strange emergency lighting, as from outside thunder rumbled. Yep. The theater was struck by lightning. (Well, maybe not the theater itself, but it definitely lost power as did the Target next door.) Suddenly, an usher came in to inform us that outside it was pouring, the power was off, and the film would resume as soon as possible. When he came back a second time, one of the legion of frenzied women asked, “Are y’all gonna kick us out?” He replied, “Well, I ain’t gonna strip, so…”
Then somebody pointed out that the door was leaking. This led to more interactions with the staff. Every time the male usher came back, more of this good-natured harassment occurred. He didn’t seem like he cared too much what a bunch of women thought of him and was gamely playing along, but when he brought two other young men with them to check for a leak in the door, one of them looked confused and distinctly alarmed when someone shouted out, “You brought friends!”
At one point, they gave us all vouchers and told us we were welcome to leave or to wait until they could start the movie safely. After a long time, I finally decided to go to the bathroom. In the darkened hallway, I heard the staff talking about which theaters were empty. Apparently, most of them had completely cleared out. Not Magic Mike. At least a third of the crowd stayed until they finally kicked us out. Every time a staff member came in to explain that they would try to restart the film close to where it had left off, at least one person would exclaim, “Start it over from the beginning!”
In the end, the power stayed out so long that we all had to leave without watching the rest. Ordinarily, I’d go back another day to see the rest, and I still may do that. But this is an unusually busy week for us since we’re just about to leave for a huge family vacation. I’m not sure at this point if I’ll have time to go back and finish. I do have a lot of thoughts about Magic Mike, though. So in the spirit of stripper culture, I thought I’d offer more of a tease than a review here. A full review may happen later. In the meantime…
Early Impressions:
So far, the movie seems to be about “innocence and experience as contrary states of the human soul.” (I put that phrase in quotations because I’m pretty sure I stole it from a college essay prompt about William Blake.)
Magic Mike offers an amazingly simple set-up. Dallas (Matthew McConaughey) and The Kid (Alex Pettyfer) are two extremes. The Kid is innocent. Dallas is so far from innocent that his very leer corrupts those who behold it. As we see from his first impromptu performance, The Kid is instinctive and sincere. As the not-remotely-subtle antithesis of The Kid, Dallas is calculating and shallow, always performing.
Channing Tatum’s “Magic” Mike (aka just Mike in the daylight) isn’t innocent anymore, but does he really want to become Dallas? He has already been instrumental in the indoctrination and corruption of The Kid. Will he destroy himself utterly by failing to step in before The Kid loses himself entirely?
The Kid’s sullen sister (Cody Horn) pointedly tells Mike that he’d better take care of her brother. This seems a bit strange. Why should Mike be responsible for her brother? He just met him a few days before, and he just met her like five minutes ago. He certainly doesn’t owe anything to the family. Still, Horn’s character definitely hits on what’s at stake in the movie—if you don’t protect Innocence, you’ll lose yourself completely to…to what?
Horror movies are always creepiest when they’re about cuddly dolls that kill, smiling, psychotic clowns, or cherubic children who have the heart of the Devil himself. Magic Mike offers up a threat like that. On the surface, stripping is all smiles and charm. But all that superficial charm masks real menace. What I’ve seen of the movie is mostly comedic. The Kid’s amusing introduction distracts you from dwelling on what happened to Tarzan and what’s up with all the “hey” juice. But based on the smarmy darkness suggested by McConaughey’s leering Devil in assless chaps, I’m expecting a darker second act. Will Magic Mike deliver? I have no idea. I haven’t seen the rest.
Up till the beach scene, the movie seems pretty fun, but even in its comedic phase, it frequently alludes to the fact that life is tough and the world isn’t fair or kind. Outside the strip club, people don’t always smile and giggle and stuff your pants with money just because you put on your sexiest grin and pretend to dry hump their face. (Imagine that! Cruel world! Can’t a man ever make as much money as a studio artist designing one-of-a-kind furniture as he can selling his body for under-the-table cash? What is wrong with this economy?!)
There’s some pretty delightful slippery slope stuff going on, too. The first half of the movie plays like a painfully slow striptease, always asking the question, How far is too far? When does “all in good fun” reasoning become dangerous? So women come to see a movie about male strippers—all in good fun. So women in the movie go to a strip club—all in good fun. So some of them dance with the strippers—all in good fun. So some have drinks with strippers—all in good fun. So Olivia Munn’s character has regular threesomes with one of the strippers and a randomized female guest. She’s just enjoying the good life, right? At what point does this behavior become something other than innocent fun?
But that’s the only thing—maybe it doesn’t. My husband and I agreed that the movie is setting up the Dallas character to be a dark figure, the ringmaster of a seething world of corruption and soul-selling horror of some kind. But is being a male stripper really that demoralizing? My husband said it seemed like it would be a gratifying ego-boost to him. I mean, strictly speaking, selling yourself as a sex-object never seems satisfying in the long run because you get tired of it. But stripping for ditzily giggling girls is hardly the same thing as selling your body on the streets as a male hustler. The “hey” juice seems like a bad idea health wise, but I don’t it’s as bad for you as injecting heroin (unless it’s actually made of heroin which I very much doubt).
The big danger of stripping seems to be that you feel like you’re about to be going places when you’re actually going nowhere. But Alex Pettyfer’s character was kind of an idiot who was going nowhere, anyway. And his sister is clearly dating a guy who has a different kind of dismal future in store for him. You can’t get something for nothing.
The Performances:
My opinion of Matthew McConaughey has improved one hundred fold in the past few months (basically since I saw Bernie). I’ve always felt appreciative of his love of Austin, but I’ve never really liked his performances until recently. I think he’s far better as a villain (maybe because I don’t think he’s sexy, but I do think he’s funny and charismatic). He’s the one with the real star power in this film, in terms of screen presence and charisma. I’m very impressed with his performance as Dallas. He’s obviously a much better actor than I realized in the past.
Channing Tatum has a wonderful scene in the bank, trying to secure a loan. He’s all charm and smiles, but inside he is seething with frustration. The whole movie is like that. Stripping is a front, a façade, a fantasy. But surely something has to be real. Real life, real product, real goals still matter to Mike—but for how much longer?
My husband actually pointed out that Channing Tatum is a fantastic dancer. I had trouble noticing that during his dancing scenes because I was too busy being enchanted and intrigued by the astonishingly vocal reactions of the audience when he was doing his act. (The audience in the theater sounded just like the one in the strip club.) (Sometimes I feel like an alien observing all the Earthlings and making notes in my heads.)
I was just so amazed by the bachelorette-party-mob-mentality. I was thinking about what Dallas said about making yourself into the embodiment of every woman’s fantasy.
I kept thinking, Really? Is that what most women fantasize about—some boring looking cookie-cutter guy doing a silly dance on the stage and then thrusting his crotch into their face? I really think if a stranger (no matter how sparkly) thrust his crotch repeatedly into my face that I would cry. Maybe that’s why I’ve never been to a strip club. I mean, I’m even uncomfortable about belly dancers (because it seems equally rude to stare and not to stare—what a double bind!).
Anyway, a guy who looks like Channing Tatum standing there getting naked doesn’t seem like much of a fantasy to me. I mean, um, isn’t that just reality? But whatever. I think I’m not normal.
Olivia Munn was a very welcome presence in the movie, partially because she was a girl and usually half naked, a nice reminder that not everyone in the entire world is a naked man. I was curious about her character (though like most of the characters, she’s only there as someone to shed light on what makes Mike tick). If I had to guess, I’d say that Mike suddenly realizes his time with her has been very shallow and pursues a relationship with the “dinner” (and not breakfast) girl Cody Horn. Why? Because she’s always angry, of course! All the other girls smile at him and want him to wave his crotch in their face, but Cody Horn, she yells at him and is always mad at him, so of course, she’s the one he’s going to go for. Guessing further, I wouldn’t be surprised if Mike ends up back with Olivia Munn, unhappy, his dreams unrealized, his future bleak. But it could just as easily go the other way.
I like Cody Horn in this movie, too, which is odd because usually “the angry blond” character annoys me. But this woman seems like she actually has a right to be angry (even though she really doesn’t). At least she has a reason to be angry. She also serves as a constant (and from a script standpoint, convenient) reminder for the audience that the world of stripping isn’t “real” and is actually kind of ridiculous. She’s the kind of person Mike wants to impress. In a way, she represents the larger world. As hard as Mike tries, as much as Mike smiles, the world won’t respect him, won’t take him seriously.
Alex Pettyfer seems more interesting in this movie than he did in I Am Number Four which I’ve seen numerous times with my stepson. I’m not sure what will happen to his character, but I really don’t care, so that will probably work out well for me either way. To be honest, stripping seems like a perfectly adequate career path for this guy who seems to have no talent or motivation, anyway. I think this character is supposed to be based on young Channing Tatum, so maybe he will get out of stripping at the end of the movie. But he does make me wonder—if you’ve never bothered to take the time to develop any skills, and you don’t have any particular work ethic, goals, or ambitions, and you’re an attractive young man, what exactly is so bad about being a male stripper? I guess it’s that it’s a dead end profession, but so is sitting on your sister’s couch playing video games all day. Like any other nineteen-year-old, he’ll figure out life and pull himself together eventually.
I’m torn. What is the big danger of stripping? Will you wake up one day and realize you’ve forgotten how to wear clothes? I suppose it’s demoralizing, but when you’re used to being popular and in high school, and now suddenly you’re nineteen and expected to take care of yourself—isn’t everything?
Overall:
I’d like to see the rest of the movie. Maybe I will, and if I do, I’ll write a real review. I enjoyed what I saw of Magic Mike. I’d like to know what was about to happen. I hope something.