I know the answer for a fact because I went to see it at the Kips Bay the other night and found myself with only about five other kindred gays while the place exploded with hundreds upon hundreds of 20-something females.
It’s a movie for bachelorettes! Packs of them! (Straight couples aren’t going, I guess because the guy doesn’t want to sit there as his girlfriend gets hot for all these half-naked movie stars. Lesbians aren’t going either. Duh.)
But the bachelorettes screamed and squealed throughout the dance numbers even louder than did the women in the movie who were brought onstage and mock-cunnilinged.
The film starts with overly tanned owner/MC Matthew McConaughey grabbing his crotch and asking the crowd, “Can you touch this?”
Then it segues to Channing Tatum, fresh off a three-way, dutifully shaving his crotch.
And then, in the dressing room, we see Joe Manganiello vigorously using an ingenious device to fluff his crotch.
It’s a movie about crotches!
There’s not a whole lot of narrative action–something about Tatum trying to be responsible for the new kid (Alex Pettyfer, based on the young Tatum) while conducting a two-hour chaste flirtation with the kid’s sister (Cody Horn).
But it’s atmospheric and pretty fun, and Tatum does some solid acting, as does McConaughey, who comes off like a strutting, slithering middle-aged queen and is actually so effectively in charge he deserves a Supporting Actor nomination. You can’t touch this.
Manganiello and Matt Bomer have precious little to do except for group numbers, and when Pettyfer is thrust onto the stage, I thought, “This is basically Burlesque meets Gypsy via Rock of Ages.”
It’s the usual new-kid-in-show-biz saga, and it develops an unfortunate moralistic tone about the pitfalls of the stripping lifestyle, but there’s still enough magic in Mike to make him pluggable.
And even shriekable!