Magic Mike : Dernière danse

Après un premier volet réussi sur le plan dramatique et une deuxième partie relaxante et agréable arrive la troisième partie (et probablement la dernière, d’après ce qu’inspire le titre), laquelle n’est plus qu’un conte de fées doux et naïf à l’ancienne. On peut peut-être apprécier le fait qu'il s'agisse encore une fois d'un genre légèrement différent, mais cette fois-ci, le changement ne m'a pas vraiment convaincu. Soderbergh a remplacé les personnages attachants et prétentieux des précédents volets par de nouveaux protagonistes franchement rébarbatifs qui incarnent les clichés cinématographiques les plus éculés (la paniqueuse impulsive et incomprise, l'adolescente surdouée et multitalentueuse, le majordome sage et réservé). Et en parlant de clichés, les apparitions caméo via Zoom sont devenues un outil cinématographique décidément très prisé ces derniers mois ! La photographie reste bonne, les danses sont joliment chorégraphiées et les quelques moments « wtf » drôles à la Soderbergh sont au rendez-vous. Mais je ne peux m'empêcher de penser que, du point de vue de l'intrigue, ce film conviendrait mieux à une diffusion sur Hallmark Channel à 14h30. (09/02/2023)

The first Magic Mike was an uncomplicated social drama, the second a road movie and this, the third one, is a Lubitsch-esque conversational comedy built on the foundation of a backstage musical. Or Pretty Woman in reverse, if you like (a rich housewife buys the company of a stripper with a heart of gold, and the question of “love or money?” stands at the centre of the story). However, there is also criticism of the capitalism/patriarchy that turns everything into a commodity (London is humorously presented through a series of shots of souvenirs) and promises to women, who are at the centre of the narrative for the first time, freedom (the perhaps most expensive shop in the city is aptly called Liberty) and  fulfilment of their most secret fantasies, but only if they give up their wealth and power. In other words, it really has to be a fantasy realised somewhere in the theatre, without any overlap with the real world, where men still make the decisions. Magic Mike’s Last Dance can also be seen as Soderbergh’s effort to subversively play around with the concept of legacy sequels, at which he both succeeds and fails (and reflects his own position, when, like Mike, he has to build on a successful brand, sell himself and rely on patrons instead of building something new because of the systemic conditions). The protagonist wouldn’t have done anything spectacular without someone else’s money and a job offer; he simply would have continued to make a living as a bartender and remained a lone wolf. The old gang only appears briefly during a Zoom call and there are minimal references to the preceding instalments (a flashback with a striptease in a police costume). The dance scenes, thanks to which this is one of the most erotic Hollywood films without sex (and it will make your nipples erect regardless of your gender or orientation) are parodically overwrought (the opening “pornographic” dance à la Fifty Shades of Grey and its moist variation at the end). The deliberate formulaicness with the division of the story into basic archetypes is made visible by the straightforward voiceover, which transform’s Mike’s return to the stage almost into a fairy tale or mythical story. It’s definitely not as silly and shallow as it may seem when viewing it on a superficial level. 75% (08/02/2023)