Listen up, bros! Grab your red solo cups, your ex-girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend’s hockey jerseys, and your beer funnels: I’m here to tell you it’s okay to like Magic Mike. It is totally okay to appreciate another bro’s body. As a matter of fact, I do it all the time. In the shower, at the gym, at the gas station bathroom, it is totally okay to be bro-appreciative of another bro’s body. And I think Steven Soderbergh’s Magic Mike celebrates that masc ideal.For you uninformed knuckleheads, “masc” is your Zeus, your Dr. Kevorkian, you’re A-Rod, your Jesus: the thing you strive to be, and spend your life trying to achieve. It is strength, it is power, is it being able to call up Pizza Hutt at 2am and not give a fuck about it, it is calling Amazon customer service and screaming their ear off about the box of condoms that is a day late, it is whipping your fellow bro with a towel after getting out of the pool, and it is posing for homoerotic photoshoots with an unknown photographer who says you’ll appear in an ad campaign for Abercrombie and Fitch, despite the fact that A&F said they have no affiliation with said photographer, but you didn’t mind because you liked doing the shoot so much that you called the photographer back and asked him to do video this time.
It’s letting gleaming sweat and also Russian vinaigrette drip off of your pecs and having a nice lady friend do laundry on your washboard abs for $11 an hour. It is putting “young professional” on your dating profile uniroincally. It is using steroids as a supplement to your other steroids. It is binge drinking so you black out and forget all the existential dread you feel every waking morning. That is masc.
And Magic Mike is the masc bro’s manifesto. What do we want? Money! When do we want it? Now! Why can’t we have it? Because of the 2008 recession! How are we going to solve that? By commodifying male sexuality and eroticism for the consumption of mostly straight women and also some queers, even though we asked the bouncers to keep them out but the queers ended up sleeping their way into the club, and we don’t mind that much because they tip well!
Magic Mike is a film, like “It’s Raining Men” come to life, about one of our own, one of our fellow masc bros Adam, The Kid (Alex Pettyfer, a nice looking bro), learning to truly appreciate his body and the body of other masc bros. He is taken under the wing of Mike (your prophet, Channing Tatum), who is the masc-est, bro-est of all the masc bros. The way he just moves his body and thrusts makes me feel so manly, so masc. Mike is a stripper, and he is able to embrace his masculinity to its fullest extent, drinking a lot of coffee and booze and probably coffee with booze, using his masculinity as a means to work his way up to the entrepreneurial life. Because what is the American Dream? Is it not taking pride in your eight pack abs, your rock hard pecs, and also money? He wants to sell chairs, which at first doesn’t sound very bro, but I assure you, us bros, his customers, will buy them and use them for whenever there’s a bachelor party for when the strippers give us lap dances or when we want to play musical chairs to the discography of U2 and Kenny Chesney.
This film truly help me embrace my masculinity in a new way. While I did like the stripping sequence in a totally objective and artsy fartsy way, I was slightly disappointed we didn’t get to see more details of the abs not unlike the torsos that are sometimes seen on Grindr. Not by me, though. I just know they exist. But, see? Seeing this film during a lightning storm and everyone was gone so I could watch it alone with a box of tissues, in case I cried, really fostered an admiration for this kind of work. I myself have started working as a stripper, because money and student loans. But I don’t strip at a club, I just do private shows from the comfort of my own dorm. Anyways, you should see Magic Mike, for it should be the Bible for masc bros.