Holy shit, dudes, bros, someone made a fucking movie about me!!!!! It’s all about this Swinging Dick Pimp with rock hard abs and dance moves that make angels cry. He also bangs a shit ton of chicks cause, let’s face it, that’s just how pimps roll.
The only thing not accurate about the film is the actor. They a dude way less attractive than me to play me. They got that Nicholas Sparks Dear John dude. I mean, whatever, he’s proven he can be funny and likable. He just doesn’t have looks that can melt panties off hotties like I can.
Really, there’s not much of a plot. Nah, it’s too indie for that. Instead we’re treated to fun dance numbers and lots of parties while Magic Mike tries to bang his best friend’s sister. That’s it, no fuss no muss.
But, other than these minor quibbles, Magic Mike is pretty alright, you know, for a movie about a bunch of greased up naked dudes. This is mostly because Ocean’s 11 Director. He’s got a gritty style that works for a film about the seamy underbelly of hot dudes, even if the film barely touches upon said underbelly.
But that unseen underbelly is hinted at in almost every shot, the grainy camera shots, the low lit club scenes. Yes, these dudes look good and get to bang hot chicks, but Ocean’s 11 Director never let’s you forget they almost all probably have herpes.
This realism lends itself to the, at times, to painful fucking dialogue a second grader could have written. I mean that as a compliment. These dudes are strippers, probably dropped out of high school, definitely snort a lot of drugs. There’s no way they’d give long speeches or witty banter normally reserved for these kinds of chick flicks. Instead they stumble and mumble in an amazingly real way.
I dig that. I dig any movie that doesn’t try to hide behind glitz and glamor. Plus, it’s a bonus if the film happens to be based off my real life. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some broads in my bed screaming at me to tear my shirt off.