Magic Mike (2012)

This wasn’t the film I expected. It was better.

When I hear “movie about male strippers,” I think over-the-top, greased up, hip-thrusting, long-haired, tanned-to-orange, pouting silliness. And to be sure, “Magic Mike” has all of that. However, what this film also has is an original story, which contains genuine, sympathetic, likeable characters. Which explains why “Magic Mike” is both effective and successful.

I probably should’ve known to resist my preconceived, negative assumptions. Three-times-out-of-four, director Steven Soderbergh is to be trusted. Sure there have been puzzling misfires (Solaris, Bubble), as well as films that (on paper) seemed promising, but turned out to be less than the sum of their parts (Contagion). But those are the exceptions that prove the rule. Most often he makes very entertaining pictures, ones I’d recommend unreservedly (King of the Hill, Out of Sight, Erin Brockovich, the Informant!, the Oceans movies, etc…). Usually even his less-narrative, more experimental efforts (the Girlfriend Experience) are (even if imperfect) well-made, interesting, and worth seeing,.

“Magic Mike” falls into the middle category. It’s set in what feels like present-day Tampa, Florida (full disclosure: I grew up there). By the time we meet him, Mike (Channing Tatum, who also grew up in Tampa; we actually attended the same high school, him decades after me) has been a stripper for six years. He clearly makes good coin doing it, witnessed by his comfortable beach-front house. But has other side projects, as well. He sometimes works construction, in addition to having a mobile car-detailing business he runs out of a van. Squirreling away what earnings he can, Mike hopes to one day start his own custom-furniture company. Alas, bad credit keeps him from securing an all-important small-business loan. That, along with the easy money he makes dancing, keeps him doing a job he tries hard to pretend isn’t a dead-end.

One day while roofing a house, Mike meets Adam (Alex Pettyfer), a 19-year old former football player, who lied about his work experience in a Craigslist ad, just to get the job. Adam is essentially Mike, six years prior: young and good-looking, but lacking any real focus, direction or prospects. When Adam’s car won’t start after work, Mike gives him a ride home. They talk casually, as guys will, without sharing very much about themselves.

Later, they bump in to each other outside a dance club. Mike gets Adam past the velvet rope, despite the hoodie and sneakers. Once inside, Adam’s shy and inexperienced. He does little more than look around, smile and down shots. When introduced to a pair of women “named after cars and jewels,” Adam politely asks “What do you do?” His awkwardness contrasts sharply with Mike’s confidence. This clumsiness multiplies exponentially later, when later the pair unexpectedly go to the all-male review where Mike works.

Surrounded by mostly naked men, and throngs of screaming women, Adam couldn’t be further from his element. However, he’s also intrigued. Backstage, the male strippers are loose and confident in all the ways he’s not. Out front, the mob of women is frenzied and uninhibited. This new world makes his head spin. Suddenly everything seems possible.

When one of the other strippers is too drunk to perform, young Adam is dubbed “the Kid,” and reluctantly coaxed onstage. He awkwardly takes off his clothes “like a teenager in a locker room.” He’s hesitant and shy, but enjoys the attention he gains from his newfound abilities. It’s at this point where the plot of “Magic Mike” begins.

Adam begins dancing regularly, with Mike as his mentor. Along the way we’re introduced to Adam’s skeptical older sister Brooke (Cody Horn). She’s tired of Adam crashing on her couch, but isn’t sure stripping is the smartest path for him to change his circumstance. There’s also Dallas (played with wild-eyed swagger, by Matthew McConaughey), a maniacally-ambitious club owner, who sees promise (and more importantly dollar signs) in the new dancer. We’re also introduced to various other male strippers, each with their own concocted stage personality.

In addition to its dramatic narrative, the movie also contains long dance numbers, which are at once spectacular, and ridiculous. (Consider the absurdity of sweaty, grown men, performing themed and synchronized dance routines, while nearly nude, in front of shrieking strangers. When viewed with critical distance, on what planet would/could this ever be considered “sexy?”)

And what of the women in the audience? They’ve stood in line and paid to see an all-male strip show. Yet, when push comes to shove, and the pants drop, they all feign surprise and incredulity. What did they expect? Like walking in on your parents (or kids) having sex, is it simply a case of where simply imagining it, and actually seeing it in the flesh, are two far different things?

Channing Tatum was a stripper in his previous life. So it makes sense that his performance (as well as the film’s overall portrayal of the male-stripper environment) feels authentic. While watching, I never once thought “he’s just an actor, whose been taught to dance, taking his clothes off.”

One of the things I liked most about “Magic Mike” is that it isn’t a traditional cautionary tale. It’s not about some rube getting in over his head, or someone’s life spiraling out of control because he’s fallen in with a bad crowd. Mike’s not simply a dumb, reckless, out-of-control, stereotypical Florida meathead/party guy, living solely in the moment, squandering countless opportunities. Instead, from the start he’s shown as a fairly level-headed, emotionally-together guy. He considers his future, and has plans (humble as they are) about how to potentially get there. He’s confident, thoughtful, well spoken, and fairly mature. He even serves as a surrogate big brother, trying to shelter the younger, naïve and inexperienced Adam. Perhaps he’s just trying to help the youngster from repeating his mistakes? During an argument, Brooke remarks that Mike’s “basically a good and decent guy.” And he is. Like many of us, he’s someone who has come to a point where he realizes, while not entirely unhappy now, his life will ultimately need to change, or he might soon be.

Several times watching “Magic Mike” I was reminded of “Boogie Nights.” Though the former isn’t nearly as sprawling, dense, finely detailed, nor as tragic the latter, they share striking similarities. Obviously, both are set in worlds of sex work. Also, they both document a young character’s initial steps into the business. Each demonstrates the various prejudices their workers encounter, when engaging in jobs mostly deemed marginal by conservative America. Finally, both capture the profound sadness and suffocating desperation that saturate a world, where so many people lead impulsive, disposable lives.

Smart, briskly-paced, and energetic, “Magic Mike” deftly avoids clichés that would’ve sunk a lesser movie. It works because it shows the entirety of characters lives, and the struggles they endure trying to improve them, rather than simply moralizing about the jobs they do on-stage. I was entertained from beginning to end. It exceeded my expectations in every way. Though not on par with Soderbergh’s best, it’s still very good, ranking towards the top-of-the-middle of his efforts.