Magic Mike XXL

Perhaps the first thing to say about Magic Mike XXL is that it's a full five inches...I mean minutes...longer than the first film. But rather than this meaning five more minutes of an engaging plot, an interesting commentary on the nature of modern masculinity, and well-developed characters – just as we had in the original film – Magic Mike XXL goes to prove that bigger doesn't always mean better.

2012's Magic Mike was as surprising as it was sexually charged. Steven Soderbergh's film was primarily a drama which just happened to involve male strippers and there was plenty aside from the nakedness to keep the audience involved with the characters. But with Gregory Jacobs, the first film's assistant director, taking over from Soderbergh in the directing chair, Mike and his gang of male entertainers have lost the plot. Quite literally.

The central problem with XXL is that it has virtually no plot. This was of course, rather predictable, as the sole reason for the film's commissioning was to cash in on those female dollars. Not that there is anything inherently wrong with this, but a trace of narrative integrity would have been nice. The bare bones of the plot, if I can call it that, see Mike (Channing Tatum) being tempted back to his former profession, hitting the road with the Kings of Tampa on their way to a stripping convention for one last blow-out performance. Along the way, there's plenty of banter, abs and conversations about how Big Dick Richie (Joe Manganiello) got his name.

Aside from this plot which is as thick as a sheer dress, the film is punctuated with several stripping performances, ranging from a rather random sequence in a country mansion strip club, to Manganiello undressing in a service station and a bizarre encounter with a group of cougars, headed by Andie MacDowell. There is no doubt that the dancing sequences are well choreographed and nicely shot (Soderbergh is, once again, cinematographer) and the cast certainly throw themselves head-first into the fun. But with anaemic dialogue and a lack of believable characters with which the audience can empathise, the film gyrates from one performance to another with no clear narrative trajectory or coherence.

Whereas the first film managed to explore the conflict between the on-stage and off-stage lives of its characters and the impact of drugs and money on friendship, XXL is tonally confused and the film doesn't seem to know if it's a comedy, a drama or simply an extended music video. Some would argue that none of this matters and that the film is a pure a piece of disposable entertainment. Whilst there is an element of truth to this, a script which was a little less focused on making money and more focused on striking a balance between the fun of the stripping and the predicaments of the characters themselves would have been welcome.

I've got a lot of respect for Channing Tatum (not just for the hours he obviously puts in at the gym) and he is one of Hollywood's men of the moment. From a technical perspective, he is a superb dancer and his physical energy on-screen is infectious. Tatum's acting and emotional range has increased enormously in recent years and he is has a very relatable, natural screen presence. There are glimpses of this in XXL but these are, unfortunately, smothered by the cringe-worthy dialogue and polished dance routines.

Magic Mike XXL is focused entirely on giving women what they want or, more accurately, what it thinks that they want. Yes, the oiled chests, bulging posing pouches and winks from Mr Tatum are satisfying and yes, the film will take a shed load of money because of it. But as a vehicle for such antics, the film is devoid of any merit. I'm aware that I've referred a lot to the original movie in this review, a film I gave 3 stars back in 2012. In comparison to XXL, the first film is a masterpiece. Now, I'm off to the gym...

Clapperboard Rating: * 

Amy

It's a scene synonymous with modern celebrity culture. A paparazzi mob briefly parts and a young and dazed woman staggers through the suffocating mass of camera flashes. That woman is Amy Winehouse – famous for her incredible vocal talents and her untimely, sad demise. Deeply uncomfortable for anyone watching Amy, the footage is emblematic of a life lived – and lost – in front of intense media and public attention.

Asif Kapadia is a maestro of the documentary genre and Amy is a master-class in the art of editing. Having collated a wide range of archival footage, from family home videos to mobile phone clips and official television programmes, Kapadia and editor Chris King have managed to construct a compelling and coherent narrative which tells of Amy's rise to meteoric stardom and the pressures encountered by a woman for whom fame and commercial success were unwanted by-products of her love for creating jazz music. In one sequence, a young Amy says that she wouldn't handle fame well, suggesting that it might be the death of her. The ultimate tragedy is that she went on to be a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Early on in the film, we discover that Amy doesn't consider herself to be a songwriter, although she does “write poetry”. And it is this poetry on which Kapadia chooses to focus, displaying the lyrics from Amy's songs on-screen and using them to construct a narrative in conjunction with voice-overs from those who knew and worked with the star (there are no talking heads here to distract from the immersion in the archival footage). Whilst there is an element of contrivance in using her lyrics to create and reflect the film's narrative, it is nonetheless a very successful way of threading together otherwise disparate source material.

This brilliant editing is coupled with the film's non-judgemental, but resolute and unflinching approach to the events in Amy's life: events as dramatic as they are sad to watch. The media circus which enveloped Amy is explored, as is her troubled relationship with Blake Fielder and the role that her father played in her later years. The audience is left to draw their own conclusions and Kapadia carefully intertwines the archive footage with the interviews and song lyrics to create a bold, heartbreaking film.

Early scenes of Amy's successes give a glimpse of a girl with a talent far beyond her years and her lack of confidence during an Abbey Road recording session with Tony Bennett is touching. Towards the end of the film, she finds out that she has won a Grammy award, but her surprise is soon tempered by the sadness that her relationship with drugs has left her life empty and unfulfilling. Moments such as these look staged, as if written by a screenwriter. It is Amy's ultimate tragedy that this was, in fact, real life.

Amy is a powerful and desperately sad film. Amy Winehouse's unique talent catapulted her into a world where, for the most part, she felt uncomfortable and lost. She was arguably surrounded by the wrong people at the wrong time and faced debilitating media scrutiny. Kapadia's film is an impressive and affecting piece of work and documents the very best – and worst – of a girl who had nothing if not an astounding set of lungs.

Clapperboard Rating: * * * *