The genre’s long-crowned champion, however, is of course “The Full Monty,” a Best Picture-nominated British comedy in which any and all sights of actual stripping are kept zipped up until the glorious, buttock-swaying finale. Like “Magic Mike,” “The Full Monty” was a film about male strippers. Unlike “Magic Mike,” “The Full Monty” did not feature any characters who were experienced professionals in the art of stripping, instead focusing on a group of working class amateurs whose physique was arguably inadequate for the job - I doubt many would pay to see Mark Addy and Tom Wilkinson strutting their stuff alongside Channing Tatum, although curiosity can be a morbid thing.
Steven Soderbergh’s “Magic Mike” is the latest entry in this cobweb-ridden corner of cinema, and quality-wise it stands much closer to “The Full Monty” than “Striptease” or “Showgirls.” It is a comedy-drama, with more focus on the latter genre. It has been advertised in such a way as to encourage women to flock excitedly to the theatres along with a gaggle of giggling gal pals like they would to an actual male strip joint, but, speaking as a member of the male sex, I believe a man should enjoy “Magic Mike” just as much as any woman would - after all, who among us straight men cannot appreciate the immortal sight of Channing Tatum proudly parading his chiseled, baby oiled abs while thrusting his bulging leather thong towards the screen and into our heterosexual faces? This would make for a wonderful film in 3D.
The stripping of “Magic Mike” takes place on the main stage of Xquisite, a small but profitable strip joint in Tampa, Florida. Xquisite is run by Dallas (Matthew McConaughey, “Killer Joe”), who, smothered in spray tan and donning a stetson, takes to the stage at the beginning of each night to set out the rules of what the girls in the audience can and cannot touch of the performers, at one point grabbing his crotch and wagging his finger. “But I see a lot of lawbreakers up in here tonight,” he says with the wickedest of grins. Look closely at McConaughey’s performance and you may catch a glimpse or two of the googly-eyed, homicidal madness he displayed with such charismatic ferocity in William Friedkin’s “Killer Joe.”
The stripping routines play out like meticulously choreographed musical numbers, ones featuring bucket-loads of dry ice and a walk-in wardrobe-ful of colourful costumes (think the Village People) and in which breathless onlookers participate by waving their hands in the air and squealing in libidinous delight. Sometimes they join the performers on-stage too; in one comical scene, one half-nude performer lifts up a rather plump member of the audience and throws his back out. The main star of the show is the eponymous “Magic” Mike (Tatum), a muscular hunk who can bump and grind with inexhaustible energy and expert precision, the kind Tatum showed off with spectacular style in 2006 dance movie “Step Up.”
We are introduced to this world from the naive vantage point of 19-year-old no-hope slacker Adam (Alex Pettyfer, “Beastly”), although Adam is not our protagonist - in the end, that position belongs to Mike. Adam meets and sort of befriends Mike on a roof-tiling job, which soon leads to Adam being unwillingly shoved onto the Xquisite stage at the mercy of a screaming crowd of lustful cougars. Adam is at first visibly shy and nervous, removing his hoodie and jeans with all the grace and sensuality of a twelve-year-old preparing for bed. The audience takes this to be an act, no doubt thanks to Madonna’s ‘Like a Virgin’ blaring in the background. But Adam gets into it, and soon enough he’s in his boxers, bestride a paying customer's lap and snogging her tonsils out. The audience loves him. Adam, having earned a ton of cash from the dollar bills stuffed in his waistband, promptly becomes a member of the team, given the fitting nickname “The Kid” (a fellow performer is named “Big Dick Richie,” the reason for which I will leave to your imagination).
Adam has a sister named Brooke (Cody Horn, “Twelve”), with whom he has just moved in (temporarily, he says). She is a protective sibling, but not overly so: upon learning of Adam’s newly found profession, she orders Mike to take good care of him, but does not intrude. Brooke and Mike’s first encounter is awkward, and they don’t get along initially, which can only lead to one thing: a romantic attraction that is itself like a striptease. Brooke’s worries about her reckless brother are proven more than warranted: Adam tumbles face-first into a downward spiral involving sex, drink and drugs, at one point waking up to find a piglet eating his vomit off the floor. That’s what most reasonable people would call rock bottom.
“Magic Mike” is I think the most realistic portrayal of the life of a stripper seen on the big screen so far. This is perhaps thanks to the involvement of Tatum, who, like the character of Adam, had a brief career as a stripper in Tampa at 19 years old - one wonders if a piglet ever ate his vomit. The film is penned by Reid Carolin, Tatum’s producing partner, in his first outing as a screenwriter. Partly based on Tatum’s experiences at the time, Carolin’s script is smart and thoughtful, filled with winning humour and effective drama. It does not indulge in gay jokes about its beefcake characters, which would be all too easy a gag. It also does not conform to too many Hollywood cliches, or maybe I was too engaged in the film and its characters to notice otherwise.
As Mike, Tatum takes another giant step in shedding his career-defining image as a charmless (but very handsome) dunderhead. He is entirely convincing as a man with aspirations to escape his life as a 30-year-old stripper and to become a respectable entrepreneur, proving himself to be a dab hand at drama as well as comedy: witness a scene in which he knocks on Brooke’s front door in drag as Marilyn Monroe, golden locks and all, and breathily belts out the lyrics to ‘Happy Birthday’ in her unmistakable tone. Also cured of a case of chronic woodenness is Pettyfer, whose presence in “Magic Mike” is shockingly engaging, much more so than it was for a single microsecond of “I Am Number Four”’s runtime. Adam becomes decreasingly likable as he tumbles further and deeper into the abyss, which Pettyfer performs with a knowing sliminess. In an early scene, he shows off his Arnold Schwarzenegger impersonation, which is... quite something.
But the true star of “Magic Mike” is Soderbergh, who, coming fresh off disaster movie ensemble piece “Contagion" and female-led MMA action pic “Haywire," may well be the most versatile of Hollywood’s current crop of directors. Operating under two crafty pseudonyms, he shoots and edits “Magic Mike” with his routine technical skill: his cinematography is sublime but not flamboyantly so, and his editing is smartly understated. He once again wrings sensational, memorable performances out of a talented cast, this time while having much of them rip their clothes off for our enjoyment.
He deliberately draws a clear line between the scenes on the Xquisite stage and the scenes off-stage: the scenes on-stage are suitably flashy and extravagant, the palette strikingly vibrant, while the scenes off-stage are more sombre and angsty in tone, shot in much more subdued lighting and displaying a filtered appearance. Soderbergh is ambiguously opinionated about the strippers at the centre of the film, fully indulging in the raunchy entertainment value of their nightly performances but later showing them in a darker light, ultimately leaving judgement in the hands of the viewer. He does not look down on them nor up at them, though there are plenty of arguments for him to do both.
8/10
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