Channing Tatum once again dons the snug briefs and reinforced knee pads (don’t ask) of male stripper turned furniture designer turned bankrupt temp bartender Mike Lane. And with the original Magic Mike director Steven Soderbergh returning, along with screenwriter Reid Carolin, the stage is set for a dream team reunion. Except, for a franchise that prides itself on its perfectly toned muscle mass, this third instalment feels unexpectedly flabby, with its lazy, let’s-put-on-a-(strip)show formula, the complete absence of supporting character development and an incongruous framing narration delivered by an annoying child.
The kid in question is the daughter of Maxandra (Salma Hayek), a fabulously wealthy recent divorcee who persuades Mike to deploy his thrusty, crotch-based skill set one last time. So impressed is Max by Mike’s groin-grinding antics that she whisks him off to London, employing him to beef up a staid costume drama that is currently playing at the theatre she collected in her divorce settlement.
It’s a diverting enough way to pass a couple of hours, I suppose, although you’ll need a high tolerance for montage sequences and for the alarmingly priapic personal-space-invading exertions of Mike and his boys.
