Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Magic Mike, or What Matthew McConaughey Does in His Free Time.
Sorry for the absence. I bought a computer today because I knew you all missed me. Although I've been without the means to deliver my delightfully slanderous criticism, rest assured that I have been keeping tabs on all things cinematic. If you haven't seen a theatrical release since my absence, you haven't missed much. However, as with all things in life, just as you're getting comfortable with the bland emptiness of it all, Channing Tatum shows up and takes off his pants.
I'd like to say that the best thing about Magic Mike is running into your friend's parents in the theater and watching their faces as they try to figure out why a twenty-five year old guy showed up to see a movie about male strippers. But (un)fortunately, the first hour of Magic Mike is fantastic. A little stripper humor is just what this summer needed. Channing Tatum can bro it up with the best of them, and this offers more humor than should be allowed.
The film does inevitably fail when it tries to be genuine, as it abruptly flips the party switch off and devolves into a warning against partying too hard. At this point, the film becomes little more than a tale of "get out before you become Kevin Nash". There were brief hints at relevant commentary, but they were tossed aside faster than Channing Tatum's sailor hat. Just because some nineteen-year-old stripper starts using drugs, the film has to go all soft on us. Why couldn't the drugs have just made him more awesome? C'mon Soderbergh, get your shit together.
C-Tates' only rival in the film is Matthew McConaughey, who didn't even have to act in Magic Mike. He just showed up as himself and said, "Alright" a couple of times. He may or may not have worn a shirt in the entire film, he played a little guitar, he got his G-string torn off by lustful harpies... An average Friday night. This is the first time I've ever liked Matthew McConaughey.