Magic Mike XXL (2015)
Channing Tatum, Matt Bomer, Joe Maganiello,
Adam Rodriguez, Kevin Nash
Director: Gregory Jacobs
Sweaty, hot, hunk studs are all the rage these days. After the original frolic of oiled up, lubricated pleasure and Channing Tatum’s irrepressible smile, filled with inane pearly white gnashers, the brazen slutfest come strip joy was bestowed onto audience once again. This time, filled with hip-hop stripping, Hollywood’s highest earner Channing Tatum returned in it’s lacklustre sequel, relying heavily on overindulgent female and neglected realities of men. Those who work as strippers, those who like them and those who might want tips to please their women were overlooked.
Instead, the self indulgent overpraise of Channing Tatum’s incessantly annoying square jawed gawk and forced love of self workout regime in a hunky body show off was on offer.
Bland blokes with no t-shirts.
96% of female audiences stormed the Box Office to witness Channing and his troupe take of their clothes in what was an abysmal show of muscle clad, empty expressions on Tatum’s chiselled hipster white boy gaze.
The film’s estimates were hugely lower than expected, earning a pitiful $12 million at the weekend and $27.1 Wednesday to Sunday, last week. The original, in 2012, drew in $39m.
The self-belief of Tatum’s acting and directing of the film could not be more inane, thinking the actor himself would be able to command gay audiences, assumed to like it, regardless, among the stereotype of lots of hunky men taking clothes off because women will cheaply come rushing in their thousands, as predicted to see a run down sex style topless pageant. They did. Though the gays didn’t. They would not be played into a level of idiotic, female framed, rubbish that consisted of letting bodies talk for themselves. The shameful technique could not even appeal Matt Bomer to secure their parting cash.
Tacky tactics, loose ideals and slutty attitudes to sell a film have slapped Tatum and his crew firmly in the face. A wake up call is needed. Not as great as Tatum clearly thinks of himself, just because Hollywood keeps him on the books, makes the show even more loosely idiotic with its non-existent plot.
Tatum’s stripper slutfest could not pass The Terminator and was outdone by Inside Out and the new and epic cinematic masterpiece, Jurassic World.
A few blokes in jeans and sneakers with extra few outfits now and then making a poor show of the Village People made everyone of them devoid of any emotion, captivation and desire.
Tatum needs to lose the vanilla gangsta look and stop larking around in a hip-hop sex fest for fun and hope it does well. It was cheap, sad and did not on any level suggest anything worthwhile.
Oh, and Alex Pettyfer isn’t in this one. Tatum was so jealous of Pettyfer’s limelight making the first a success that Tatum wanted to show off his vanity to be its main star. It flopped. Matthew McConnaheuy is also out. (Of the film.)
End result? Embarrassing waste of time. Don’t bother and spend two hours on a better film instead. Plain, boring and mundane.
Good ol’ Channing likes to just hope for the best, coin it in, rip people off, assume an audience and expect praise because he loves his own abs and maybe everyone else should. Ever an overrated blurb of inconsistency in Hollywood if ever there was one. Let’s get some new, mature and wider actors who don’t just take up the easy, free for all options.
Jupiter Ascending, which was Tatum’s attempt at a space drama with budget actors for a bit of fun in the genre because he likes it, went so well, right?
Leaving a shameful distaste in the self, without any negativity to prudishness of audiences prove a monumental problem for the film and its already announced third instalment. This time he wants fans to write it and it’s clear to see why. Tatum’s writing, ideas and directive stance while clogging up the main stage made the film as cheap as it comes, while making his background troupe forgettable. This film was built on encouraging the stamping of that out and influencing the lovers of the first flick, which has been missed, vividly.
There were simply actors walking through the movie, lacking choregoraphy, not sex appeal and a bundle of bodies with no tee shirts or personalities, where fans did not feel they received their financial worth. It was meant to be comedy based, Tatum revealed, yet not even any laughter could give it a free-pass clause.
There’s some inclusion of a few chicks now, with Amber Heard, Andie MacDowell, and Jada Pinkett Smith. All three’s involvement is plainly ridiculous and has no drive. All three are great actors, but this really did them no favours. Stick to Gotham, Fish. That really works for you. Not even the MILF vote for the mature woman could add any maturity to the already flawed childishness of the entire production.
In essence, MMXXL is just another film. One with no noticeability, humour or passion. It is simply an afterthought, of which you and this reviewer has already spent way too much time on.