‘Magic Mike’s Last Dance’ Review: Last Gasp
'Magic Mike’s Last Dance' fumbles the appeal of the once-throbbing franchise with a fan-fiction love story that fails to excite.
The world of Magic Mike movies moves fast and changes constantly. An unfettered life for Channing Tatum’s tender-hearted hunk of a stripper-promoter-construction worker-furniture designer-entrepreneur has meant a shifting stream of old and new friends, new loves, and new towns as he rides his “Pony” from film to film, starting with the 2012 hit Magic Mike and ending, presumably, with Magic Mike’s Last Dance (★★ ☆ ☆ ☆).
The original — a good-vibes backstage melodrama directed by Steven Soderbergh, who also directed Last Dance — introduced enterprising exotic dancer Mike Lane (Tatum), his crew of dance-challenged stripper buddies, and his journey as a hardbodied, hard-working Florida lug who’s just looking for his shot.
Produced for well under ten million dollars, the film went on to gross nearly $170 million worldwide, and of course begat a sequel, the 2015 road movie Magic Mike XXL, which was considerably less successful both at the box office and as a compelling story.
That breezily entertaining follow-up, directed by Gregory Jacobs, showed the Magic Mike train already wobbling on its rails, burying the erotic appeal of hot guys stripping under a heap of treacly, trendy, self-help speak about making women feel like queens.
Seemingly, the studio’s market research had divined Mike’s true purpose, not as a sexy single stud but as a fantasy boyfriend, who would patiently listen to his lady pour out her feelings, before flipping her onto a table and pounding her to ecstasy. Despite the obvious gay catnip of a premise built around beefcake, these movies, devoid of queer characters, are largely dismissive of the queer gaze, and the latest installment doubles down on portraying Mike as the hetero fantasy man who commits to his lady, and helps her reconnect to the queen within.
He does still have to dance his pants off from time to time, a talent that practically enchants wealthy socialite Maxandra Mendoza, played with reserved longing by Salma Hayek Pinault. After one wall-shaking lapdance, Max whisks Mike off to London to have him produce some kind of show — she doesn’t say what — in the landmark theater she happens to own. Navigating a legally fraught separation from her old-money hubby, she’s lonely and bored and feeling diminished by slights from her ex. Mike looks to her like the perfect pick-me-up.
Ultimately, the film, written by Reid Carolin, who’s penned all three Mike movies, turns out to be Max’s story, a Fifty Shades-style reverse-fantasy of breathtaking wealth, globe-hopping romance, and utter surrender to the charms of a passionate yet pliable hunk. But didn’t we come here to see male strippers? Sure, with a plot, but the rich divorcée reigniting her inner fire by putting on a show isn’t a thrilling storyline.
Hayek Pinault, married in real life to one of the richest men on the planet, effortlessly carries off Max’s queenly glamour. She’s less persuasive at portraying the character’s pie-eyed, let’s-put-on-a-show optimism.
The movie itself really only wants to get to that show, and it doesn’t care how, so Max merely decides to reshape the play that’s currently running at her theater into a new, spectacular show reflecting Mike’s vision.
The running joke is that he doesn’t have any vision — but somehow he wings it, and comes up with what is apparently Magic Mike Live, the actual stage spectacular Tatum co-created that’s playing Vegas, London, and Miami.
This part of the film aggressively makes no sense, since the audience still shows up to Max’s theater expecting to see Isabel Ascendant, the mopey period drama being advertised, yet somehow everyone is delighted that instead they’re in for a night of erotic cabaret.
Rather than a return of Mike’s original crew (who pop in via Zoom for a brief bro chat), the performers in Mike and Max’s new show are all played by actual dancers from the various Magic Mike Live productions. Their characters don’t get names or personalities, but they do get solo beats to show their stuff. It’s an infomercial.
Viewers might recall the disappointment of little Ralphie in A Christmas Story feverishly decoding a secret message off the radio only to discover that said message is just an ad for Ovaltine.
Last Dance goes to a lot of expensive trouble to just wind up an ad for the stage show, the portions of which we see here are sultry and cirque-y, and not that impressive. The only two numbers in the film that really bring the heat feature Tatum, who likely won’t be performing in Magic Mike Live on any regular basis, if at all.
A genuinely gifted dancer, Tatum is still charismatic in the role, especially when allowed to rock his body to a beat. Unfortunately, his last turn as Mike is overshadowed by this unsatisfying finale.
Magic Mike’s Last Dance is playing at theaters nationwide. Visit www.fandango.com.
Support Metro Weekly’s Journalism
These are challenging times for news organizations. And yet it’s crucial we stay active and provide vital resources and information to both our local readers and the world. So won’t you please take a moment and consider supporting Metro Weekly with a membership? For as little as $5 a month, you can help ensure Metro Weekly magazine and MetroWeekly.com remain free, viable resources as we provide the best, most diverse, culturally-resonant LGBTQ coverage in both the D.C. region and around the world. Memberships come with exclusive perks and discounts, your own personal digital delivery of each week’s magazine (and an archive), access to our Member's Lounge when it launches this fall, and exclusive members-only items like Metro Weekly Membership Mugs and Tote Bags! Check out all our membership levels here and please join us today!
