“Magic Mike” more than beefcake

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Carolin, set a historic London theater, and all of its fussy rules, ablaze (figuratively). If only all scorned socialites could do something so charitable with their rage.

It’s a clever conceit for a filmmaker who never tires of singeing the establishment he continues work in. And like many Soderbergh films, “Magic Mike’s Last Dance,” shaggy, earnest and innocently tawdry, goes down so easy that it’s almost impossible to appreciate it fully on a first watch. I imagine it will only improve with more. If there is a quibble, it’s that Hayek and Tatum don’t quite inspire the will-they-won’tthey tension that the movie seems to be asking of them. They work well together when they’re working together, but the romantic chemistry is a bit lacking. Besides, his great unrequited love isn’t a person but his furniture business, right? It doesn’t help that Maxandra is also an extremely underdeveloped character.

Even so, Mike manages to wrest an inspired dance in the rain out of the idea of them (his co-dancer is Kylie Shea) that pays homages to classic movie musicals with just a bit more skin and writhing.

This story is told like a fairy tale, or a poetically composed school paper from a particularly precocious student, with a silky voiced young narrator telling us about Mike’s woes and the waning significance of dance in the culture. She’s not just a disembodied voice, but an important character the story reveals later. But it’s a lovely little flourish in

Mike Lane’s journey. He’s a guy who just wants to make furniture but seems destined (or doomed) to continue performing in one way or another. Like his director, he’s just too good at it to say goodbye forever, no matter how much they both keep trying.

“Magic Mike’s Last Dance,” a Warner Bros. release in theaters Friday, is rated R by the Motion Picture Association for ``sexual material and language.’’ Running time: 112 minutes.