Magic Mike and Stone Face

A group of my gal pals and I went to see Magic Mike. What red-blooded, straight woman wouldn't? It's not often that any form of media caters to female sexuality and voyeurism, viewing it as taboo. All hail to double standards.

Although this movie, does in a way, empower female sexuality, in other ways it imposes the male's vision of what women would want. This is reinforced by the fact that both the director (Steven Soderbergh) and the screenwriter (Reid Carolin) are men.

Speaking for myself, most of my friends and most of the audience, we didn't go to the movie expecting a fabulous story line, interesting camera angles and award-winning performances. We wanted to see some delicious MAN. We saw some hot Hollywood males for sure, but within a prudish limit, set by male standards, of course; and the movie lived up to our low expectations of plot and acting.

Most notably, what were they thinking casting and directing Cody Horn as the female lead? Her stone-faced disapproval throughout the movie, killed our buzz. And we saw way too much of her on the screen. Hello? The movie is Magic Mike, not Stone Face Brooke. I don't know if it's her lack of acting skills, or the way she was directed into the role, but suffice it to say, she made us angry. When the credits rolled, and her name and face flashed on the screen, we booed.

By contrast, Olivia Munn's performance and presence was much more empowering and likable, until the script demanded that she turn taciturn and cold. This reinforces the fact that the movie's vision was from the male not female perspective. No woman would have made the casting and script decisions made in this movie. I know for a fact, because we all talked about it at length and in disgust, after the movie. Women fall into two categories in Hollywood: irredeemable bitches, and judgmental but pure bitches. Nice.

Further, the evolution of the story, along with it being hackneyed and trite, left much to be desired, not allowing the characters or the situations to evolve organically. The story left us unfulfilled, wanting more and hating the man who could not give us release. In other words, it was like a bad one-night stand.

The direction tried to fulfill their artistic manifesto with some interesting, though sometimes dizzying, camera work; but again, we didn't go expecting to see Tarantino.

Channing Tatum, Joe Manganiello and Matthew McConaughey redeemed the movie to some extent. Tatum can sure move, satisfying our eyes beautifully along with Manganiello and McConaughey; and that would have been enough to please the audience, but then they had to ruin it with a broken plot, female stereotypes and a cliche romantic formula.

Save your dollar bills ladies.