Movie Guru Rating:

Yeah, they’re all back. Why not?

by Clint Casey

When director Steven Soderbergh (Traffic, Out of Sight) resuscitated the Rat Pack-classic Ocean’s Eleven in 2001, the jolt of watching the crème de la box office crème mingle in an intricate heist was novelty enough to make for two hours of guilty pleasure. The chemistry between thieves seemed genuine enough, and Soderbergh’s fast-paced, stylistic direction brought life to Las Vegas, making it worthy of top billing. In Ocean’s Twelve, the entire cast reunites for another go at grand larceny—without the endearing glam of Vegas—in a frenzied, muddled dash across Europe.

Three years after the robbery, casino owner Terry Benedict (Andy Garcia) tracks Danny Ocean (George Clooney) and wife Tess (Julia Roberts) to their suburban refuge, demanding the millions of dollars snatched by Ocean and his gang in Las Vegas. Benedict locates each member of Ocean’s 11 in hiding individually through an anonymous tip and extends a one-week deadline to recoup his money.

The whole crew reassembles and decides to honor Benedict’s request over fear of death or jailtime. After calculating the lack of available funds from the original $160 million score, Ocean’s 11 agree to pull more jobs overseas to secure the difference. The resulting heists are a series of games between the gang and a mysterious thief that twist and turn through intricate security systems across Europe.

Although visually appealing, Soderbergh’s jarring cut-and-paste technique of rapidly switching locations and past/present narratives hinders the flow of the sequel. But taken as a whole it does make for a whirlwind jaunt through a world of high crime that drags you along while daring you to keep up.

When caught in a pinch, the sequel briefly steps into reality by having a member of the cast play their real-life persona, a generally nauseating and avoidable tactic that somehow manages to work adorably. Which is by and large what makes the film enjoyable—painfully likable actors at their most charming.

In response to questions raised over the sexuality of Brad Pitt’s character, Rusty Ryan, in the original re-make, Ryan is given a love interest and a playful back-story with Europol investigator Isabel Lahiri (Catherine Zeta-Jones), who proves the cat to Ryan’s mouse.

Given that the actors’ schedules match, the dynamic between characters lends itself to innumerable sequels—and the film even feels at times like a high-dollar sitcom.

The shock and awe of seeing Hollywood’s alpha-dogs outside of the Oscars is gone, and the lovable Vegas locale regrettably absent. And while the sequel isn’t as engrossing as the re-make or even the original, the cast and crew recognize there’s nothing substantial about Ocean’s Twelve and immerse themselves in having fun rollicking across Europe on a paid vacation. (Amazingly, Soderbergh made this movie on the same relatively low budget as its predecessor.)

Ultimately, the flick should appeal to anyone endeared to Ocean’s Eleven, because it’s essentially the same movie—a balance of thrills and comedy set to stylistic direction and a high-energy score that complements and beautifully emphasizes the action. It’s thoughtless pleasure at its guiltiest, and there’s nothing wrong with brain candy on occasion.

December 9, 2004 • Vol. 14, No. 50 © 2004 Metro Pulse