A movie about the boys that's really all about the girls. That's Hollywood levelling the field, and Magic Mike XXL carries this out with nonchalant panache. It's a solid, unambitious film that nevertheless boasts an aggressively non-conformist attitude in so many regards that its stature is simply jaw-dropping; at least, you'll need to drop your jaw to fit it all in. Gregory Jacobs directs with gleeful cheek, exploiting the various practices (but one sole purpose) of his film to near the limit, delivering exactly what you want and what you need from scene after scene. The film is only surprising in that its commitment is so pure, untainted by the kind of commercial constraints that might ironically have made Magic Mike XXL a less commercially-successful product. It is, indeed, a product, but what Jacobs and writer Reid Carolin have constructed is a priceless product - we're being sold sex, and between Channing Tatum's extraordinary agility and the even-more-extraordinary uses he puts it to, it's premium grade sex. But more important is the consumer, both within the film and without. A purview on female sexuality here is concentrated but not narrow, specific but not exclusive, and the generous inclusivity of Magic Mike XXL - its mildly underwhelming (only very mildly, though!) climactic sequence effectively targeted directly at the film's audience - must surely be a true cinematic treat, even for those not this way inclined. It's equally about the girls and for the girls, and it celebrates its own identity as a beacon of loose, lewd liberation.