That was the first surprise. The second, it turns out, was the reason for it. My mom insisted that her love of the movie had much less to do with Channing Tatum’s abs than it did with his charisma (his charisma!!). I had seen the first movie, an entertaining two hours of oiled man-hams dressed in clothes a casino magician might choose if he was suffering hot flashes, and dancing as if they were just-caught trout slipping across the deck of a ship. Channing plays the Tampa stripper version of Jack Dawkins, and critics, like my mom, made a point to also extol its surprising commentary on capitalism and the subversion of presenting male bodies — instead of female bodies — as objects of attention. “He makes everyone around him feel positive and good,” she explained. “I like how he is in a bad situation, but still wants to make things happy.” Yes mom, but what about the dancing? “Channing Tatum is a wonderful dancer.” Yes mom, but what about the thongs? “That’s not the point.”