Try not to get too jealous, now. But Gut Check spent our Friday night in a movie theater packed with a 90 percent female crowd in a sold-out theater at Galleria 6 Cinemas (Saint Louis Galleria, Richmond Heights; 314-725-0808) watching tan, sculpted, hairless male bodies gyrate and jiggle. Magic Mike, the quasi-memoir approximating Channing Tatum's pre-fame experiences as a stud in an all-male revue, lit up the screen. In fact, its release probably should have been delayed, considering we're in the middle of a drought and this film is out to start. some. fires.
|All puns aside, look at the size of that thing. |
See, the beauty of Magic Mike lies in its complete lack of subtlety. The film embraces its ridiculousness with a refreshing self-awareness, but it doesn't hold out on the goods, either. Sure, less than a minute after the opening credits, C Tates' impossible ass is on full display. But it still manages to tell a story and even has a moral. (Which can be boiled down to "Stripping's OK, just stay out the trap.")
For the film's first half, the mood is light and the characters likeable -- while Mike could've easily been a meathead oozing testosterone and machismo, he's instead simple, kind and fun. Sure, he's knee-deep in a tangle of lady limbs on account of his moves, but we'd like to see you resist that magic man after he gets down to some Ginuwine.More »