Jonathan White’s review published on Letterboxd:
Magic Mike, how do I loathe thee, let me count the ways.
1. Channing Tatum. I don’t know why, but images of David Hassleholf spring to mind whenever I see you onscreen.. Perhaps it’s your simian acting style. I guess you thought your real-life stripper story was going to be the next Rocky, and that you had the heart and soul ( and talent ) to pull it off on screen. I’m sure you did. What I see is a popular High School quarterback in the school play. Sure, it sells tickets, but it’s embarrassingly awful to watch.
2. Cody Horn. You deliver about as much charisma and emotion as a Stepford Wife on prosaic. Your dad being the chairman of the House of Mouse didn’t have anything to do with you getting this role, did it?
3. Olivia Munn. You were deep, oh so deep. Hope your stint on New Girl goes well for you.
4. Alex Pettyfer. All I can say is you sure look perddy in your IMDB photo. Good luck with that Endless Love remake. I think its right up your alley.
5. Writer / Producer / Actor Reid Carolin. I guess you must have been deeply moved by Channing’s story. Something close to your heart. So close that you recycled the worst parts Flashdance and The Full Monty, and managed to expunge any resemblance of comedy or poignancy in favour of a completely soulless, trite, vapid, schmaltzy, insipid, and predictable, tale. Good luck with that Magic Mike 2 pitch: “Mike gives a go at Junk Brothers furniture, but fails and goes back to stripping after Cody Horn leaves him, only to be rescued by Olivia Munn and her divorce from rich dipshit dough”.
6. Stephen Soderberg. Did Channing Tatum have incriminating pictures or you? Were you the one who lost that full package of Ex, and this is the repayment? Did Channing make you ( and your close, close friends Peter Andrews and Mary Ann Bernard ) dress up like Nicholas Winding Refn? Or, was this just a clever ploy to make Side Effects look so much better?
The sole bright spot, and the single star in my rating of this travesty, was Matthew McConaughey’s performance. Even that wore thin by the third act along with the seemingly endless string of music video-esque, pitifully choreographed, bump-and-grind numbers.
There, I feel better now. Sorry for venting.