This Ocean's all dried up

reviewed May 2005

Golly, it sure seems like it must have been a hoot to film Ocean's 12 in all those glamorous locales.  I wish the finished product, however, was more than just shots of pretty people in pretty places acting cool.  They might have trimmed the grappa-and-caviar budget in favor of spending a little money (and time) creating a story that halfway makes sense and doesn't make you feel like you've been conned by the time you get to the end of the movie.

I see that I criticized Ocean's 11 for many of the same faults -- looked like fun to film, but not much translates to the screen -- but somehow the first one clicked with me, and the sequel just seems like a waste of time and talent.  The biggest victims -- aside from the audience -- are Andy Garcia and Matt Damon.  For some reason, in this movie, Garcia's elegantly thuggish casino owner is decked out like an 18th-century fop, complete with a pinned scarf at his neck, a cane, and round, purple-lensed sunglasses.  For his part, Damon comes off almost as badly as his retarded puppet in Team America: World Police.  You can scarcely believe this boy could dress himself in the morning, much less steal a Faberge egg.

There are entirely too many smirking self-references and tedious meta conversations that are laborious and scripted instead of flippant (the only really amusing -- and convincing -- one has George Clooney worriedly asking talentless nepotists Casey Affleck and Scott Caan, "Do I look 50?").  It's so tiresome and uninspired (don't even get me started on the idiotic gimmick of having Julia Roberts' character -- as unlikable as in the first movie -- pose as... Julia Roberts!) -- don't let them con you out of your time and money.


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