Last night my partner and I joined a group of our girlfriends from the gym to see Magic Mike. I can’t remember the last time I saw a movie in the theater. Every few years, I have to go again just to be reminded why I wait for the DVDs. Last night was no exception.
We arrived thirty minutes early. My partner had purchased our tickets online, via Fandango. We still had to wait in the long ticket line, but it was nice not having to worry about running out of tickets from a sell-out crowd.
Inside the theater we joined an even longer line for refreshments. I didn’t bring my glasses with me and couldn’t read the prices. Figuring the twenty dollars in my wallet was more than enough, I ordered a large raspberry Icee and a small popcorn, no butter. The drink was bigger than the popcorn. The combo cost me ten dollars. Damn!
We joined the line of women crowding into the theater. Practically every seat was filled. Fortunately, our girlfriends had saved seats for us. What fun is a stripper movie without gay men?
Most were women of every age, size, and description. Maybe one out of ten was a guy. My partner and I weren’t the only gay men in the crowd.
The guys fell into one of two camps. The gay men were scattered around the theater in groups of two or three. The rest of the men were either with a date or out with groups of women.
Say what you will, but I had my doubts about the guys with dates. Married or not, what kind of guy goes with his woman to watch men a lot hotter than he’ll ever be doing the hokey pokey?
I try to imagine the conversation. “Okay honey, I’ll go. Lord knows you’ve watched enough sports movies with me.” If you saw this movie with a date, check under his mattress to see if his porn is straight or gay before you walk down any sheet-covered aisles with him. You can thank me later.
The dancing is hot. We needed to see the strippers hitting the gym. Except for one guy doing bicep curls with a dumbbell, you never see them working out. They practice their group dance numbers, but that’s hardly enough to maintain the bodies these guys have.
I haven’t checked the running time, but it’s comparable to Gone With the Wind—at least, that’s how it felt. The movie would have been better as a musical, a two-hour montage of the hunky cast, bumping and grinding in countless fantasy-inspired sequences. Give the people what they came to see.
But no, Magic Mike aspires to be a film with a plot and characters that grow. Strippers have feelings, too. To me, every second devoted to the thin story dragged the movie down.
I’d be remiss if I failed to mention the cell phones. The entire theater glowed from the devices throughout the movie. I wanted to stand up and yell, “Hey, can’t you turn that damned thing off long enough to watch a movie?” Geez.
Perhaps my impressions of Magic Mike were tainted by my high expectations. I expected more abs, and a lot less cheesy dialogue. I’m sure the cast had a great time making the movie. Too bad it wasn’t as much fun to watch. That won’t keep me from admiring the poster, here in…
My Glass House