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Magic Mike's Last Dance Ponies Up 

click to enlarge Get yourself a man who won't leave you to walk the freezing floor in a Humboldt cold snap.

Magic Mike's Last Dance

Get yourself a man who won't leave you to walk the freezing floor in a Humboldt cold snap.

MAGIC MIKE'S LAST DANCE. It's been a long, unexpected journey, for our hard-hustling, unworldly and undulating hero Mike Lane (Channing Tatum) and for all of us. We've been together for more than a decade now, tiling a roof in a Tampa swelter, swilling GHB while Richie fluffs, falling in and out of love and touring the Eastern seaboard. In Mike's absence, we've witnessed the ascendance of his eponymous stage show — the metaversal transposing of realities both less confusing and more narratively satisfying than anything from the funny book camps — with all of its laying bare of insecurity, embrace of vulnerability and overarching celebration of inclusion and lap dancing.

All of this, of course, has been documented as exhaustively in these very pages as any continuing franchise; we're a not-so-secret Mike rag.

And so, with the bittersweet closing of the books on our hero's adventures (his banner will continue to fly high above the cities of the world), it is with no little ceremony that we attend the reunion of the originators: Director Steven Soderbergh rejoins Tatum and screenwriter Reid Carolin for a London-based coda that, in its transgressive way, has more than a little to say about maturation and perseverance.

Magic Mike (2012) felt like it came out of nowhere but, in hindsight, it was a vital part of the second (third?) Soderbergh renaissance. It was a period of still-unparalleled productivity that resulted not only in a lasting partnership with Tatum but in 2011's Contagion (we'll discuss the prescience another time), Haywire (same year!), Magic Mike (2012), Side Effects (2013) and the incredible "TV movie" Behind the Candelabra (also 2013). All of these, I'd wager, will be recognized as undeniable classics in the fullness of time. As we received them, though, it was difficult to take the long view. Each one felt like a genre exercise, albeit elevated by the director's technical mastery and distinct, darkly funny sense of story. And, despite its dangerous but unthreatening sexiness, I think few of us would have selected Mike as the most likely tentpole (pun intended) candidate of the lot. The first movie is, after all, a gritty examination of a generally unexamined subculture, by which I refer as much to class-defying/defining hustle culture and the last gasps of the American dream as I do to stripping. Mike has big dreams, formidable skills, admittedly great genetics and, most surprisingly, almost no cynicism. He's the common man rendered uncommon by the movie's granular, careful depiction of him (and by the aforementioned genetics).

Magic Mike XXL (2015) came as a welcome, if unexpected, reunion of the men of the Xquisite Strip Club, a charmingly shambolic, equally compelling road movie absent most of the pathos and self-examination of the first installment. And, in so distancing itself from the source, it became that rare sequel: a revisiting of characters without an attempt to duplicate tone, a truly new chapter. While inarguably less substantial than the original, it remains, as my wife would have it, "the feel-good movie of the year." And, more than its predecessor, the jumping-off point for the Tatum directed 2018 London-premiering Magic Mike Live and the deeply humanistic — and, bizarrely, seemingly disavowed — HBO reality series Finding Magic Mike.

Both the sequel and the series place their emphasis on the universality of dance as much as they do on the fun, silly sexiness of woman-oriented male strip clubs, elevating the humanity of the dancers and drawing out their inner Mikes, made desirable as much by their projected self-awareness as by their physicality. Which is a rather roundabout way of suggesting they are more about fun than they are the specter of danger or rejection.

With his characteristic aplomb, Soderbergh alloys the tonalities of all the foregoing entries in Last Dance, delivering a near-perfect send-off. There's an ending without fatalism and a story within the story that embraces possibility in the shadow of hopelessness.

Sweet, simple Mike is back in Florida as the movie opens; an unidentified narrator informs us the pandemic has robbed him of his livelihood (and maybe some of his ambition). His boutique furniture business shuttered and, feeling a little too shopworn for the stage, Mike is cater-bartending, promising the boys of Xquisite the return of the investments they lost with him. Enter Maxandra Mendoza (Salma Hayek-Pinault, absolutely never funnier, sharper or sexier), a divorcing benefactor with homes in Miami, London and who knows where else. Needing a pick-me-up and informed of Mike's previous livelihood by an acquaintance from his past, Max hires Mike for one ... last dance. Which, surprising no one, becomes something much more.

With little more than a nod, Max whisks her new kept man off to the Isles with a surprise in store as much for Mike as for her straying husband and the cast and crew of his (and his mother's) beloved pet theater.

It took longer than my wife would have liked for Ginuwine's Pony to accompanying the grinding but, for me, Magic Mike's Last Dance represents not only a perfect encapsulation of the world Tatum, Carolin and Soderbergh have built but probably the first great movie experience of the year. R. 112M. BROADWAY, MILL CREEK.

John J. Bennett (he/him) is a movie nerd who loves a good car chase.

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Fortuna Theatre is temporarily closed due to earthquake damage. For showtimes call: Broadway Cinema (707) 443-3456; Mill Creek Cinema 839-3456; Minor Theatre (707) 822-3456.

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