Hardcore fans of the series will lament the absence of Mike Lane’s posse of performers in Magic Mike’s Last Dance—the strapping Joe Manganiello in particular. But to my mind, Salma Hayek Pinault is a fair swap, especially considering her take-no-prisoners performance. (And don’t worry, Manganiello and company may be reduced to a Zoom cameo, but the movie is otherwise still raining men.)
Hayek Pinault plays Maxandra Mendoza, an obscenely wealthy former stage actress in the midst of a messy divorce. She meets Channing Tatum’s Mike—whose custom furniture business has gone under thanks to yet another economic downturn—as he’s bartending for a benefit at her Miami mansion. Learning that he used to dance, she offers $6,000 for a private session after the guests go home. Something erotic and also cathartic results, to the point that Max whisks Mike off to London, where she asks him to choreograph and direct a male-stripper revue at the prestigious theater that once belonged to her husband’s family, but she now controls. It’s an act of spite, yes, but Hayek Pinault digs beneath the easy fire of a portrait of vengeance to also reveal that this is something of a creative renaissance for Max, who gave up the stage years ago. As it is for Mike.
Yes, the story is silly—Reid Carolin wrote the script, as he did for 2012’s Magic Mike and 2015’s Magic Mike XXL—but this is one of those movies where the stars are so in sync it doesn’t matter. They have a sensual ease together that’s borne of their own abilities, even as it’s also a reminder that Steven Soderbergh (returning to the director’s chair after only serving as cinematographer and editor on XXL) elicited similar electricity from George Clooney and Jennifer Lopez in Out of Sight.
Here, as there, Soderbergh films his stars amidst gorgeously soft lighting and complementary colors; they each get an admiring close-up during a dinner scene that stuns the film to halt. And in that opening dance routine at Max’s house, Soderbergh tiptoes just toward the edge of silliness (before starting, Mike tests the strength of Max’s metal bookcases, then proceeds to use them), but evades it by dazzling us with a cinematic dexterity that matches Mike’s moves. A long, languorous single take segues into a series of shots from near-abstract angles, including a moment where the image of the two of them is tilted on its side. More formal ingenuity—along with plenty of torsos—will come with the climactic dance revue, including a rain-soaked number with Mike and a ballerina that turns the stage into an R-rated Slip ‘N Slide. Call it Magic Mike: The Way of Water.
(2/9/2023)
