FILM FRENZY

The gang’s all here (Photos: Warner Bros.)

By Matt Brunson

OCEAN’S ELEVEN (2001)
★★½ (out of four)
OCEAN’S TWELVE (2004)
★★½ (out of four)
OCEAN’S THIRTEEN (2007)
★★★ (out of four)
DIRECTED BY Steven Soderbergh
STARS George Clooney, Brad Pitt

A remake of Casablanca? What’s the point? A new version of Citizen Kane? Sounds suicidal. A re-imagining of Psycho? Completely imbecilic (oh, wait, they did try that one… the fools). But a remake of Ocean’s Eleven, the 1960 caper yarn that starred Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, and the rest of the Rat Pack? Now that had potential. After all, as anyone who’s seen the original film can attest, the dirty secret surrounding the production is that it’s a remarkably mediocre achievement, a threadbare, barely functional heist tale that served mainly as an opportunity for Frank and friends to party at Warner Bros.’s expense. The Rat Pack members were cast as former World War II soldiers (The Rat Patrol?) who plot to knock off five Las Vegas casinos, but except for a clever twist ending, there’s absolutely nothing memorable in what has long been regarded as one of the most expensive “home movies” ever made. So a remake was not only narratively sound, it also proved to be massively lucrative, leading to two sequels of its own. Now, all three films are hitting 4K Ultra HD in a package titled Ocean’s Trilogy.

The 2001 Ocean’s Eleven certainly had the potential to flatten its predecessor on every imaginable level. The director is Steven Soderbergh, coming off a banner year in which he helmed both Erin Brockovich and Traffic (earning a Best Director Academy Award nomination for the former and winning the Best Director Academy Award for the latter). The cast is packed with real actors, cutting down on the high volume of surface celebrities who marched through the 1960 version (think Peter Lawford, for starters). And in this bold new century in which crime flicks are practically required to feature plot twist upon plot twist upon plot twist, it was a safe bet that this souped-up version would offer a lot more than just one solitary surprise at the fade-out.

So the good news is that Ocean’s Eleven is indeed better than the original; the bad news is that it achieves its superiority by not as sizable a margin as one might have wished.

Soderbergh’s take on the tale retains the basic outline but jettisons most of the individual details. Thus, Danny Ocean (George Clooney) is no longer a former WWII paratrooper but rather a career criminal who, as the film opens, is being released from the clink after a successful parole hearing. Immediately, he decides to mastermind his most elaborate scheme yet: With the help of a high-powered team of criminals, he will simultaneously rip off three Vegas casinos, all of which keep their loot in the same underground vault.

Danny has a personal reason for choosing these particular casinos: They all belong to Terry Benedict (Andy Garcia), a steely tycoon who’s presently dating Danny’s ex-wife Tess (Julia Roberts, who’s amusingly billed in the credits with the line, “And Introducing Julia Roberts As Tess”). Danny hopes to outfox the villain and win back the girl, but first, he has to assemble his crack team. He tracks down his friend Rusty Ryan (Brad Pitt) to serve as his right-hand man, and he secures financing for his operation from Vegas millionaire Reuben Tishkoff (Elliot Gould). From there, he goes on to recruit eight more con men, bringing the total to 11.

Juggling so many central characters in a motion picture is always a daunting task, but not an impossible one: Paul Thomas Anderson’s Boogie Nights and several of Robert Altman’s more celebrated films were masterful in making even the most fleeting characters come alive on screen. But Soderbergh and screenwriter Ted Griffin are so busy trying to spread the wealth that they end up shortchanging practically every character, and it’s up to each individual actor to carve out a unique characterization based on their own intuitions regarding their respective roles. Only some succeed.

While picking up her Oscar for Erin Brockovich, Roberts gushed over Soderbergh by stating, “I’d read the phonebook if he asked me to.” I wish he had, since listening to her sludge through the Yellow Pages couldn’t possibly be any duller than watching her tackle the non-role of Tess. It’s a thankless part, one that posits Tess as nothing more than a trophy gal for Danny and Terry. What’s more, the part is so anemic, Roberts never comes close to having an opportunity to display the brashness or sunny personality that defined her career — as a matter of fact, she arguably had more chemistry with the dead frog she bags in Erin Brockovich than she does here with either Clooney or Garcia.

Roberts may bring up the movie’s rear, but she’s hardly alone back there in the caboose. Clooney eventually morphed into a superb actor, but this was still back in the period when he figured he needed to do nothing more than coast on his laidback style of movie star charisma. As Linus Caldwell, the group’s resident pickpocket, Matt Damon practically seems shoehorned into the proceedings. And reliable Don Cheadle struggles with a forced Cockney accent and too little screen time as the team’s demolition expert.

Other actors fare better. Taking top honors is Pitt: His role doesn’t look like much on paper, but through sheer will and personality, as well as the sound application of some offbeat character tics, he’s the one who constantly commands our attention. Gould has some fun in the caricatured role of a Jewish moneybags, while Bernie Mac brings his potent brand of stand-up comedy to his role as card dealer Frank Catton, the job’s inside man. Trivia buffs, meanwhile, will enjoy the fleeting cameos by Angie Dickinson and Henry Silva, who had supporting roles in the 1960 original. (For the record, the rest of the 11 are played by Carl Reiner, Casey Affleck, Scott Caan, Eddie Jemison, and Qin Shaobo.)

As the film jumps from one incident to the next, some individual set-pieces are able to proudly stand on their own. There’s an amusing early scene in which Pitt’s Rusty is seen teaching poker to pampered Hollywood stars, while a later incident finds Mac’s Frank pretending to express anger at perceived prejudices within the casino industry (“They oughta call the game whitejack!” he sputters).

Ocean’s Eleven maintains the appropriate swagger and air of cool collectedness, but it’s hard to be impressed with its suavity as it bungles its own caper trail. The neat finale of the ’60 model has been scrapped, only to be replaced with the sort of obvious double-dealings that failed to fool us when we saw them on numerous other occasions (including earlier in 2001, in both The Score and Heist). Soberbergh has stated that Ocean’s Eleven was his “opportunity to try and make a movie that has no desire except to give [audiences] pleasure from beginning to end.” That’s a lovely sentiment, and the movie works quite well in spurts. But when it’s obvious that the actors are having more fun making this thing than we are while watching it, you know something’s not kosher. In the case of Ocean’s Eleven, the house wins.

As one of the proud members of America’s Eleven — i.e., one of those 11 moviegoers in the continental US who didn’t adore Ocean’s Eleven — my expectations weren’t exactly sky-high for Ocean’s Twelve. And, true to form, this sequel is more of the same, with one major difference.

Whereas the caper in Ocean’s Eleven felt rather simplistic, the one in Ocean’s Twelve is needlessly convoluted. Still, while this sequel is about on par with its predecessor, there’s at least a more focused attempt to create something tangible — certainly, there’s more material into which some of its star players can sink their million-dollar teeth.

The plot has to do with the attempts of Terry Benedict (Garcia) to get back the money that Danny Ocean (Clooney) and his posse had stolen from him. It’s a barely passable narrative thread, but it allows Roberts and Damon, whose roles in the first film scarcely existed, more opportunities to strut their stuff, and it opens the door for the addition of the always-welcome French actor Vincent Cassel as a renowned international thief.

The best sequence finds Roberts’ character, Tess, forced to impersonate the real Julia Roberts in order to help pull off a heist; complications arise when Bruce Willis (in an uncredited cameo) stops by to engage “Julia” in some mindless chitchat. It’s the sort of self-reverential moment that would seem more natural in a Robert Altman flick — indeed, these same two stars shared the climactic movie-within-a-movie scene in Altman’s The Player — and its inclusion here is greatly appreciated.

While all three films in the franchise have basically been an excuse for Soderbergh and his high-voltage friends to take paid vacations in trendy, plush locales under the pretense of making motion pictures — if life was fair, then resort timeshares would have been handed out with movie tickets so that audiences could also join in the festivities — Ocean’s Thirteen is the first of the trio to feel like there’s something truly at stake in its convoluted, house-of-cards plotline. Male-on-male love (heterosexually speaking, of course) has always been the driving force in this series (even in the 1960 Rat Pack original), and this one milks that sense of camaraderie for all it’s worth.

The boys are back in town for this latest chapter, and the action begins when Reuben Tishkoff (Gould), one of the group’s senior members and Danny’s former mentor, gets swindled by venal casino owner Willy Bank (Al Pacino), who cheats Reuben out of his share in a swanky new Las Vegas casino. The incident leaves Reuben near death’s door, and Danny (Clooney) decides that he and the rest of the crew owe it to the old-timer to set matters straight. Thus begins an elaborate scheme that finds Rusty (Pitt) posing as an environmentalist, Linus (Matt Damon) disguising himself as an underling with a generous proboscis, and Basher Tarr (Cheadle) passing himself off as a stunt cyclist. And to receive the critical financing for the operation, the team is forced to reluctantly turn to their old nemesis, Terry Benedict (Garcia), for assistance.

Because there are so many characters still competing for attention, there will always be casualties when it comes to screen time. In this installment, it’s Bernie Mac who gets hit the hardest — he’s only given one scene in which he’s allowed to strut his funny stuff. Yet because this is the most briskly paced of the three, and because the revenge angle provides its protagonists with a strong rooting interest, it’s hard to get bogged down in the flaws. I wasn’t exactly a fan of the previous two pictures in this series, but Ocean’s Thirteen qualifies as the first to pull off a winning hand.

(Extras on Ocean’s Eleven include audio commentary by Soderbergh and Griffin; audio commentary by Pitt, Damon, and Garcia; and a making-of featurette. Extras on Ocean’s Twelve include audio commentary by Soderbergh and scripter George Nolfi; a making-of featurette; and deleted scenes. Extras on Ocean’s Thirteen include audio commentary by Soderbergh and scripters Brian Koppelman and David Levien; a making-of featurette; and deleted scenes.)