The first "Magic Mike" was a genuinely good movie, but that’s not what many in its audience actually wanted to hear.

Sure, Steven Soderbergh’s male stripper saga often featured Hollywood’s most stupidly handsome dancing mostly naked on a stage, and an early scene just had a penis getting pumped just, like, right there in the foreground of a conversation. But the film quickly revealed itself to be just as interested, if not more so, in a fairly sad ensemble character study about drug abuse and life in a down economy as it was in mindless pants-ripping fun. It was good, but for many, good wasn’t the point; folks wanted sexy drama, not real life actual drama. I still remember ripping tickets at a local movie theater during its opening weekend. Women piled in, laughing and smiling like they were seeing "Sex and the City" and, two hours later, walking out despondently like they just saw "Sex and the City 2."

Well, star Channing Tatum heard your laments and has brought the Kings of Tampa (or at least most of them; pour one out for the McConaissance) back together for "Magic Mike XXL," the best possible version of the sexy, silly male stripper movie audiences thought they were getting the first time through. Consider it the highest form of fan service – or fan yourself service considering the physically perfect Greek gods of gyration busy at work.

Mike Lane (Tatum) is now off living his dream of making custom furniture down in Miami and being done with "Magic" – though he’s living that dream alone (Cody Horn’s boring Brooke left in between movies) and with barely enough to pay his lone employee’s healthcare.

His pec-happy past soon comes a beckoning, however, when Tarzan (Kevin Nash) and the rest of the beefy dudes – Big D*ck Richie (Joe Manganiello), Ken (Matt Bomer) and the fro-yo dishing duo of Tito (Adam Rodriguez) and Tobias (comedian Gabriel "Fluffy" Iglesias) – summon him down to a cheap hotel pool to chill and admire an anonymous helmet-wearing bikini girl spazzing around (if this summer didn’t already have a Doof Warrior, she would be this summer’s Doof Warrior). They also have a plan: Laid off and reaching the end of their pole-grinding primes, they want to go out with a big bang at the stripper convention in Myrtle Beach with Mike along for the ride. He declines at first, but one late night workshop listen to "Pony" later, Mike’s on board for a bro-ad trip.  

Any actual conflict in "Magic Mike XXL" comes in size XXS. Ken’s a little harrumph-y at Mike for leaving town, but that gets settled less than 30 minutes in with quick, cathartic whack with a tree branch (as bros do). Nothing else that comes up – a brief spat about coming up with new material, a search for a new MC – feels like much of a pressing concern either. Instead, returning writer Reid Carolin’s script concerns itself with crafting an aimlessly chill, relaxed road trip movie featuring a bunch of charming, entertaining bros off on the sincere quest to please women – artistically, sexually, emotionally – and to find their own sincere pleasure and personal expression in that.

Director Gregory Jacobs smoothly picks up seamlessly where Soderbergh left off – a likely easy transition considering Soderbergh was still on set, serving as editor and cinematographer under pseudonyms. Visually, the movie cuts back on the almost sickly yellow Instagram filter from the first film and amps up the overall warmth and color – especially during a long detour through a strip club soaked in seductive red and blue light, owned by Rome (Jada Pinkett Smith), one of Mike’s old flings. That’s just one of many eye-catching and evocative sequences in which Jacobs and Soderbergh surround their beautiful stars with equally beautiful imagery and depth, such as Tatum inside his truck haloed by his bright blue door frame or two barely lit outlines, unknown to each other, carefully flirting on the beach at midnight.

As for the dancing – presented here as a steamy mix of slick moves, sensual holds and thrusts, and teasing, tantalizing crowd play – Jacobs and Soderbergh smartly observe the scenes rather than slice them up in the edit, letting the audience soak in and appreciate the impressive moves. And when you have dancers as dynamic and as in precise physical control as Tatum and new addition Stephen "Twitch" Boss (a "So You Think You Can Dance" alum), the only polite thing to do is to let them take over the screen for a bit without interruption. Of course, some of the other routines are less dances and more just pure unabashed playful air-humping sexuality, and Jacobs has plenty of fun capturing those as well – less so for the technique but for the screaming, dollar bill tossing joy and ecstasy for all involved.

That joy and ecstasy in satisfying and celebrating women is found all over "Magic Mike XXL." In one conversation, Mike makes a point that his god is female, and when the boys arrive at Rome’s club, the plot comes to a halt just to bathe and luxuriate in women being treated like "queens" in Rome’s words, where one performer (Donald Glover, AKA Childish Gambino) makes up a smooth, soothing R&B song to a young divorcee just by asking questions and listening.

The singer later likens their profession to "healers." It’s easy to snicker at the oiled-up profession given such philosophical heft, but they’re so sincere in their service – of actually listening to and pampering women who otherwise may go disregarded by a significant other or society as a whole – that you totally buy in. That’s the movie in a nutshell: inherently goofy but with a surprisingly thoughtful, caring and considerate heart. 

A part of that thought and care comes through in how "Magic Mike XXL" strives to make its female audience happy – and not just in the obvious dancing beefcake way. The women seen throughout the film are a diverse crowd – black women, plus-sized women, older women and more – not often seen in a Hollywood summer release without some sort of self-congratulation, and the movie simply accepts, appreciates and serves them without a second thought. For example, when the guys stop off at a house full of older women (led by a Southern-slinging Andie MacDowell), it’s not a chance for demeaning cougar jokes; the movie and the characters stop to genuinely listen to, share and care about the women’s emotional and sexual feelings. It’s a fun and even kind of beautiful moment – one of many like it.

The whole film moves at its own pace, coolly coasting on that vibe and energy of acceptance, openness, joy and just, you know, feeling good (in fact, McConaughey may be gone, but "Magic Mike XXL" totally takes in and exudes his whole "Alright, alright, alright" laid-back persona that you might not even realize it). Any real heavy conflict or drama would just rain on its celebration of all things personal and passionate.

Instead, "Magic Mike XXL" presents itself as a simple, easy-going hangout movie, and thankfully it's got everything to make that work. It's got the mood thanks to Jacobs and Soderbergh’s smooth eye, the casually clever conversations (topics of note include boy band returns, a reference to "The Constant Gardener" and the heated debate of cookies versus cake) and, perhaps most importantly, the engaging characters and performances to support the general aimlessness. 

Tatum is at that "Ben Affleck at ‘The Town’" point now where hating on him for his shaky early efforts is getting petty. He’s graduated into a tremendously charismatic and surprisingly nimble actor – not just in his dancing, but in handling funny dialogue with quick, clever delivery. And as the "22 Jump Street" movies showed, he’s a sweetly earnest co-star, seemingly wearing his heart on his sleeve for his on-screen cast mates. 

Nash pulls off a lot with a little with Tarzan, his quiet tenderness not so hidden under his hulking wildman appearance. Bomer is fun as well as the squeaky clean Reiki healer Ken, but the show really and truly belongs to Manganiello, who packs a lot of big charisma to go with his titular big member. His wolfman brand of energy is just the perfect slice of humorously honeybaked ham to go in a movie like this, enthusiastically selling all of Richie's big sexy dance moments just as hard as his childishly meat-brained emotional swings – and, like Tatum, with an endearing amount of heart.

He gets the highlight of the movie: a big impromptu dance in a gas station in the hopes of winning a smile from the unamused attendant. It’s a hilarious scene – sold perfectly by a drugged up and lubed up Manganiello and his fellow Molly-fueled brothers in muscular arms – in addition to a completely joyful one, a celebration not only of making a woman happy but of finding one’s own self in one’s work and passion, and of brothers supporting one another.

There's admittedly a romance subplot between Mike and a photographer (Amber Heard) that only hits lukewarm. If the light love story pops, it’s mostly because of some fun dialogue exchanges and not any particular chemistry worked up in their rambling interludes. The movie also sometimes drags due to its lack of any real conflict or drama. After all, the big finale involves no big money prize or rival to beat or even any real tension about if they’ll pull off their new hastily made routines. It is a climax built solely for sexy dancing, having fun and making everyone – ladies and gentlemen, entertainers and audience – feel really damn good.

The whole movie is built around that simple but often elusive goal, and whether it’s on a story level or a meta level, "Magic Mike XXL" pulls it off. It's a film about entertaining and crowd-pleasing that's indeed fittingly very entertaining and mightily crowd-pleasing. That’s definitely worth tossing in a few bills.