There’s a slight tinge of sadness for anyone who has been patiently awaiting for the release of the third and final installment in the Magic Mike trilogy, as the film came and went with the ebbs and flows of the industry before quietly dropping on VOD a few weeks later. Few would have anticipated what the conclusion to this propulsive trilogy would look like, once again in the hands of Soderbergh and nearly a decade after the release of XXL. Now, after a wider look at the trilogy, it seems as though Soderbergh took some lessons in borrowing from the sophomoric entry (much to my relief) and finally makes the film that merges both entertainment and economic critique. 

After a successful near-decade in the furniture creation business, Mike Lane’s business succumbs to the pandemic, among many others, and closes down. Forced to take a series of odd jobs, he is led by fate to Max (Salma Hayek) who gives him an offer he can’t refuse. The only catch: the job’s in London. 

Though this sounds like a real thriller (I admit that I may have made some misleading wording choices to give off that impression), it’s not too dissimilar to XXL’s tone, or structure. Both films show Mike as a listless protagonist who has moved away from the stripping that’s central to the first film and moves him into a different locale with a goal. In both, there’s a love interest that’s central to the growth of Mike as a character. And in both, there are men stripping — what’s there not to like? Honestly, that really seems to be the sentiment that one initially walks away with when finishing Magic Mike’s Last Dance. Magic Mike’s Last Dance provides entertainment with its content, visual imagery, and a copious amount of heart, which spiritedly lifts the film out of corny hell. The irony of the film is that one expects there to be a twist, something sinister that permeates through the film that detracts it. But while I can’t deny that the socio-political aspect of the film feels a tiny bit forced, I don’t despise its inclusion in a way that I did for Magic Mike did. 

In reality, the film never really fully jettisons socio-economics, a fact which many seem to despise in various points of the trilogy (myself included), but is central to the anchorage of the film trilogy. The films never shied away from being an exposé, which shines a light on the underprivileged and lower-class through Mike’s adjacent struggles. What differs in both XXL and Magic Mike’s Last Dance is how socio-political events backdrop the events on-screen. They are, and have never been the selling point of these films, and nobody is looking at Soderbergh’s trilogy of strippers as an economics manifesto. By placing them as the undercurrent of the films, Soderbergh and Carolin prove how deceptively attractive these films are in their coy inclusion of economic critique. 

However, one can really ask for a more attractive film, as Tatum’s age really starts to show in his lethargic movements, which do enhance the film’s thematic pinpoint by way of its societal critique of stripping as a whole, but also makes the film awkward when it attempts anything remotely lugubrious in his suave movements. However, it’s so rare to find films that are genuinely euphoric and like XXL, this film has that effortless charm that makes this so special. As much as I was not looking forward to Magic Mike’s Last Dance, Soderbergh proves why he’s one of the most versatile and pertinent directors of this century. 

8/10