By way of sleight-of-hand, Steven Soderbergh's MAGIC MIKE both is and isn't the freewheeling, fun-loving, male stripper extravaganza its trailers peddle. Running parallel to this flesh game is another of Soderbergh's nuanced looks at contemporary American life, in specific the economic and emotional toll suffered by folks trying to get ahead.

Within the film's opening minutes Soderbergh gives the people what they paid for: Channing Tatum's bare behind. Actress Olivia Munn is a topless bonus in a scene set the morning after a three-way romp. From there, the story quickly and efficiently sets Tatum's character, Mike, as a hard-working, self-proclaimed, entrepreneur doing whatever he can to raise money for his dream of launching his own custom furniture line. (This is inspired by Tatum's real-life career beginnings.) Stripping is just a means to an end. After taking a rudderless youngster (Alex Pettyfer) under his wing, Mike also shows an interest in his new protégé's sister (Cody Horn).

There is likely no major American filmmaker so tuned in to the intertwined axes of life and work as Soderbergh (Erin Brockovich & Contagion). In film after film he's explored the way jobs both build up and destroy the contemporary American soul. From the high-end escort in “The Girlfriend Experience” and the pathological executive in “The Informant”, to the laid-off assassin in “Haywire” and the aspirational male strippers in MAGIC MIKE, absolutely everybody is struggling, hustling and compromising.

For every moment of glamour, sexiness and frivolity, there is another of disappointment, discouragement or just plain hard work. MAGIC MIKE is a study of modern economic reality and the rationalizations that get us through the day, acknowledging the glamour and the glitter and sweat required to get us there. As Magic Mike himself puts it, "You want some stripper wisdom?" [EDITED]



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