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Channing Tatum Chips Away at His Chiseled Exterior in ‘Dog’

Let’s play two truths and a lie, Channing Tatum edition.

In 2022, Channing Tatum plays a disaffected military veteran tasked with escorting a military dog to his previous owner’s funeral.

In 2022, Channing Tatum began work on Magic Mike 3: Magic Mike’s Last Dance, in which the titular Mike Lane takes his male-stripper show global.

In 2022, Channing Tatum dons a wig and stars in a biopic as one half of American pop rock duo Hall & Oates.

Any guesses? Well, all three are correct. Kind of.

Tatum did play a disaffected military veteran tasked with escorting a military dog to his previous owner’s funeral. In fact, he directed the film! It’s aptly titled Dog, and it’s surprisingly great.

He also has indeed begun work on a third Magic Mike film, seemingly inspired by the global expansion of the actual live show adapted from the original Steven Soderbergh film (Magic Mike Live was Tatum’s idea, and each iteration of the show now bears his name).

And that Hall & Oates biopic? OK, that one isn’t quite real. But Tatum did appear in Apple TV’s hilarious The Afterparty, playing a fictionalized version of himself and starring opposite Dave Franco’s Xavier in such a film, hilariously entitled Private Eyes. The show’s creators — Christopher Miller and Phil Lord — have suggested that more Private Eyes footage exists, and the world will not know peace until such footage has been made publicly available. 

(In the clip included in the show’s first episode, Tatum’s John Oates hilariously suggests “You go high, I’ll go the same high.”)

Tatum’s rendition of “Maneater” may have to wait, but in some ways, his appearance as a fictionalized version of himself in a comedic murder mystery might be the most accurate exemplar of the 41-year-old actor’s sense of self at this point in his career. Tatum might have kickstarted his career as a traditional heartthrob — arguably one of the few remaining from a bygone Hollywood era — but he has since chipped away at his chiseled exterior, bringing himself closer and closer to the fans who love him. 

A still from Magic Mike. Channing Tatum sits in the middle of a yellow-hued garage.

2012’s Magic Mike likely marked the actor’s first step in self-humiliation, taking loose inspiration from his early years as a nightclub stripper in southern Mississippi, but it also ironically elevated him to a sort of prestige status typically reserved for actors far removed from G.I. Joe or Nicholas Sparks adaptations. Magic Mike’s commercial viability was never in doubt, but its critical success ensured a wider array of opportunities in its leading man’s future. Soderbergh invited Tatum back the next year for psychological thriller Side Effects, while esteemed directors like Quentin Tarantino and the Coen Brothers tapped Tatum for The Hateful Eight (2015) and Hail, Caesar! (2016), respectively.

My personal favorite Tatum performance came in Bennett Miller’s 2014 film Foxcatcher. Miller’s chilling sports drama leans into Tatum’s status as Hollywood’s most lovable meathead by casting him as Olympic wrestler Mark Schultz, whose emotionally abusive relationship with wealthy philanthropist and wrestling enthusiast John DuPont placed both men on a collision course, culminating in DuPont’s murder of Schultz’ brother Dave. In Foxcatcher, Tatum trades in his soft smile and easy exterior, presenting an image of a hardened macho man in desperate need of affection. But across all the buddy comedies, rom-coms, and space operas, isn’t that what Tatum has always been?

A still from Foxcatcher. Channing Tatum sits on a couch in front of a yellow wall decorated with a large painting.

Sometimes, the undressing of the macho man is quite literal and absurd, such as Tatum’s cameo as Danny McBride’s pet “Channing Tate-yum” in 2013’s This is the End. With everyone leaning into their respective celebrity personas, Tatum does something of the sort, stripping down like he did back in Mississippi and ingratiating himself with a pack of marauding cannibals. That Tatum is so comfortable playing himself is a testament to the actor’s humility, his ability to laugh at himself and get in on the joke. And what is that joke exactly? Perhaps Tatum’s directorial debut offers some clues.

With $54 million at the box office and counting, Dog is only further proof of Tatum’s commercial viability, this time both in front of and behind the camera. Tatum co-directed the film with longtime collaborator Reid Carolin, writer-producer on Magic Mike and Magic Mike XXL and producer of several Tatum hits: including White House Down, 22 Jump Street, and Logan Lucky. Carolin penned the Dog script himself, and the film marks his directorial debut as well. The duo opt for simplicity with Dog, telling a tested, yet touching, story of a U.S. Army Ranger who comes to terms with his PTSD and his financial woes whilst escorting a military dog down the Pacific Coast towards Nogales, AZ. The story takes inspiration from Tatum’s own real-life road trip with his dying dog Lulu. Although Tatum and his onscreen companion (affectionately and appropriately referred to as “dog” throughout the film) encounter various characters throughout the film, this adventure still belongs to them. Like 21 Jump Street before it, Dog is a buddy comedy of sorts, swapping dirty jokes for wholesome ones. And as adorable as Tatum’s canine co-star might be, the film is clearly Tatum’s show, hitting all the notes fans might expect from a vehicle with a star like him in the front seat.

A still from Dog. Channing Tatum carries a dog on his shoulders as he walks down an empty street.

Even as Tatum settles into the director’s chair, he is unafraid to give the people what they want. In other words, he is unafraid to take his shirt off. A topless Channing Tatum is all but guaranteed in any Tatum-starring production, and Dog is no exception. Still, Tatum’s embrace of his physique and its mass appeal is rooted more in hilarity than anything else. At this point in his career, when Tatum takes his shirt off onscreen, there’s a knowing goofiness to it. A movie dealing in such familiar territory could have easily fallen off the rails with these equally familiar setpieces, but Tatum and Carolin inject Dog with a gleeful sense of humility that few other leading men could provide.

Indeed, this kind of humility is what Tatum serves up best. Even his more serious work has always carried with it a tacit acknowledgment of who Tatum is and how he is perceived within the contemporary celebrity ecosystem. He’s a heartthrob. A hunk. A box office draw with a largely commercial focus. And yet, Tatum treats his work with a degree of respect and consideration that somehow cuts through the corniness of expressions like “I think all jocks have a sensitive side.” Tatum’s opinions have always come in earnest. When he describes himself and his work as apolitical, it feels surprisingly sincere (while doing press for the 2017 documentary War Dog, Tatum and Carolin noted the inherently apolitical nature of dogs, while also clarifying their only political beliefs were a deep respect for military members). In an updated culture that places unique pressure on celebrities to reveal themselves in small doses — if at all — Tatum remains comfortable undressing himself (both figuratively and literally) in front of his fans. No doubt, there is a boyish quality to it all, but the clarity of Tatum’s personality is an increasingly rare phenomenon in today’s celebrity ecosystem. Tatum seems content bearing his soul both onscreen and off, unconcerned with distinctions between high art and low art, good art and bad art. 

It’s that disregard for labels that prompted Tatum’s extended hiatus from acting. It may sound shocking if you weren’t paying attention, but Dog actually marks Tatum’s first leading role since Logan Lucky in 2017. While he might have peppered in a few cameos and voice acting roles in the interim — Karey Kirkpatrick’s 2018 animation Smallfoot is one of the more delightful hidden gems in Tatum’s filmography — Tatum instead dedicated that period to entirely different pursuits. He sculpted and dabbled in photography. But perhaps the most notable fruit of Tatum’s break from acting came in May of 2021, when the actor-producer published his first children’s book, The One and Only Sparkella. As the father to 8-year-old Everly (Tatum and ex-wife Jenna Dewan share custody of their daughter), Tatum felt inspired to write a story about a glitter-obsessed little girl and her father. It’s a story of self-love and self-acceptance, and a follow-up book is expected to release in May of 2022. There’s a strange dissonance in seeing the picture book’s colorful cover with the name “Channing Tatum” stretched across it, but these are the kinds of friction in which the star revels. Why can’t a muscle man admire rainbows and dance parties? 

A book cover for The One and Only Sparkella. A drawing of a girl wearing rainbow poses in the front, while a drawing of a dad poses behind her wearing a pink boa.

There’s something almost radical about Tatum’s entire project, bumping up against the boundaries of masculinity and heteronormativity. In an interview with Variety, Tatum noted the 1990 documentary Paris is Burning as one of his key influences growing up, adding that he “definitely wanted to live in that world” of New York drag ball culture. And while his filmography may not quite evoke the extravagant dance parties at Lower Manhattan’s Gay Community Center (nor does it need to), Tatum’s interrogation of certain gender norms so readily assigned to a man of his stature makes him a refreshing addition to today’s celebrity landscape. And even when his onscreen counterpart may not seem quite so radical, such as Dog’s U.S. Army Ranger Jackson Briggs, there is a still sense that the man onscreen is Tatum. Macho, sure. But also sensitive and sparkle-obsessed. That kind of consistency in his work stems from the sincerity with which he treats it all, no matter the subject. When a “Gambit” film finally fell through after years in development hell at 20th Century Fox, Tatum equated the experience to “losing a friend.”

Indeed, Tatum’s project is perhaps most accurately described as one of creation, creation, creation. It’s an admirable and likely even relatable feeling to those of us with creative ambitions of our own. No matter how high Tatum’s star ascends, his desire to create is what drives him. And as he ventures deeper into a career as a producer, he has effectively fortified himself against experiences such as the one with “Gambit.” Now, the fate of Tatum’s art rests in his own hands, and he is using that power to realize the work of others as well. Besides a Step Up spinoff series at STARZ, Tatum is also producing and starring in girlfriend Zoe Kravitz’ directorial debut Pussy Island.

I’ll allow the provocative title to speak for itself.

Cory Stillman

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