But as beautifully as Gene Kelly did in An American in Paris and George Chakiris did at the beginning of West Side Story, Tatum, while laboring in his workshop, slides effortlessly, with the prompting of music, from natural movement into dance, revealing that the man hasn’t put his youthful glory behind him yet. In the three years since we last saw him, Tatum’s Mike has been trying to make a go of it with his own small woodworking and construction company. But even as it introduces this potentially mawkish angle, the nimble, quick-witted script by returning screenwriter (and Tatum producing partner) Reid Carolin refuses to take it at all seriously, as it simply notes the passage of time while stressing the importance of living in the present and making the most of your natural gifts. To a mild degree, this is also a movie about a “last ride,” an occasion that provides the reunited old buddies with a potential final spree together while they’re all still young(ish) and their bodies remain in top form. The same goes for Soderbergh, who stepped aside as director on this one in favor of longtime associate Gregory Jacobs, although Soderbergh maintained an important pseudonymous presence as cinematographer and editor.
So diverting is it that the absence of Matthew McConaughey, whose performance as club owner Dallas in the original played an important part in his career turnaround, is scarcely noticed. As the sociable gang of buffed and bronzed dancers makes its way in an old ice cream truck from Central Florida up through Georgia and South Carolina to compete at a stripping convention in Myrtle Beach, the film makes you feel that you’re just hanging out with some raucous and funny guys, even as it’s propelling the action along at a pretty good clip. This is the love child of a road movie and a let’s-put-on-a-show musical, a mixed-breed format that provides a sense of structure and momentum within which almost anything goes.
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