Magic Mike's Last Dance (2023)

Score: 2.5 / 5

And just like that, the promise and joys of the first two films fizzle into the void. Magic Mike was a brilliant and endlessly entertaining journey into a unique character's soul against a fabulous backdrop. Magic Mike XXL continued the story by expanding and diversifying its cast, soundtrack, and themes in mature but still fun ways. Now, Channing Tatum and Steven Soderbergh (who only directed the first installment) are back for Magic Mike's Last Dance, and it's all a soapy, sappy washout that will add little to their respective credits.

Its title could have been the point of the whole film, but thankfully its message hits home right away and then we move forward. The film's opening quickly catches us up to speed on how Tatum's character Mike lost his handmade furniture business during the Covid-19 pandemic and now works as a bartender for catering services in Florida. A cute cameo reminds us immediately of his history as a stripper for hire and his somewhat stigmatized socialization as a result. It also reminds us that Mike may not be truly happy in his current work, and we know from experience that dancing is indeed what brings him the most joy. He soon meets Max (Salma Hayek, an inspired casting choice that recalls Jada Pinkett Smith's casting in the previous film), immensely wealthy as the soon-to-be-divorced socialite wife, whose friend recognized him. She pays him handsomely to dance for her privately.

The dance is extraordinary to behold, as Tatum's skills haven't aged a day, thanks in part to the choreographer and the cinematographer. Hayek instantly reminds us why she's a star, acting her ass off in beautiful clothes and looking utterly stunning while clearly enjoying the situation. They both give in, and their happy ending proves to be instead a beginning; her passions reignited, Max sweeps Mike off to London as her boyfriend and business partner, determined to create a new stage production of male strippers dancing. Essentially recreating a Magic Mike experience much as what happened in real life after the first film was released.

As the two navigate their relationship -- fraught, as Soderbergh skillfully reminds us, with class differences -- they hit a series of predictable and familiar roadblocks both romantically and professionally. Their artistic visions for the show sometimes clash, to say nothing about the danger of the show getting closed by Max's husband. While it's never obvious what the endgame will be, screenwriter Reid Carolin unfortunately indeed gives his two stars a happy ending that feels inevitable in retrospect. I would have liked more tie-ins with the previous films, especially with the camaraderie of Mike's former co-stars, who only show up briefly in a Zoom call cameo. The story feels more fairytale or fable-like this time around, such as the annoying voiceover narration by Max's teenage daughter Zadie, whose lines sound like something from a wannabe Jane Austen or Edith Wharton adapter.

I understand that the filmmakers -- specifically Soderbergh, Carolin, and Tatum himself -- don't want to repeat material, and I can respect that. This time they really delve into the romantic side of Mike's character literally and thematically, as most of the best dialogue explores ideas of desire, creativity, and the freedom to pursue both. Tatum, himself still a bit of a surprise talent despite catapulting to stardom many years ago as an outsider in Hollywood, reminds us why his Mike is such a fabulous character: his demeanor feels grounded and guarded at all times, as though he's afraid he'll lose his career yet again, thinly veiled by his endearing humility and streetwise grins. These movies aren't just for the spectacle of hunks, but rather about navigating cultural commodification of working men both from the outside and the inside. At one point during their rehearsals, Max tells the team, "This show is not about getting dick. Only."

Whereas the first film, I'd say, was the most technically proficient in terms of storytelling and editing -- to say nothing of its surprisingly bleak themes -- and the second had almost too many ideas (thematic and visual) to keep under control, this one is disarmingly laissez faire. It almost lazily winds its way through the production up to opening night, when the curtain reveals a cabaret-style show not unlike the real life one Tatum helped craft. Last Dance is a feel-good embrace, the kind of film I almost dozed off during not only because it's rote but because it's warm and comforting. It's also pretty hot, which makes it eminently watchable. I suspect that, in a marathon viewing with the wine flowing, by the time this movie kicks off you'll be too happy (and horny) to much care about plot or dialogue or editing.