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Brad Pitt, George Clooney and Matt Damon focus on how to pull off their Vegas scam |
Even Pacino is dragged under!
OCEAN’S THIRTEEN
Directed by Steven Soderbergh
Certificate 12
DANNY Ocean was never one of my favourite characters.
He’s just too much of a clever-clogs – a wise-cracking rogue who is always one smug step ahead of everyone else, and, after a time, it starts to make your teeth grind.
Frank Sinatra got away with it in the 1960 original Ocean’s Eleven with his Rat Pack of sycophants in tow.
Now, handsome, rakish George Clooney is in charge of the motley crew, this time heading an elaborate scam to rip off shiny-suited casino boss Al Pacino – almost unrecognisable with a thatch of gingery hair, rimless specs and a bad taste in purple ties.
Pacino has made the mistake of double-crossing one of Danny’s original eleven (Elliott Gould), so now the boys return to Las Vegas to exact revenge.
With the aid of former enemy Terry (Andy Garcia), they dream up a scheme to immobilise the security system for a three-minute period during which every gambler will win at Big Al’s casinos.
But the hi-tech plot is contrived, complex and utterly confusing. Danny and his two-armed bandits (headed by Brad Pitt, Matt Damon and Don Cheadle) are let loose among the slot machines, but somehow manage to sleep-walk it, with Pitt particularly in urgent need of a cattle prod to jolt him into life.
Even powerhouse Pacino gives an unusually lame performance, while Steven Soderbergh, directing his third glitzy Ocean comedy caper, leaves a whole lot of loose ends hanging in the air.
I was left with the feeling that once again we’re watching a bunch of actors enjoying themselves with a load of one-liners and in-jokes – leaving us on the outside, looking in.
On this showing, they’re well past their sell-by date.
Time to call it a night, boys. |
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