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Ocean’s Eleven (Stephen Soderbergh) 2001 Apparently, nothing seems to spoil Stephen Soderbergh like
success. After the huge triumph of Sex, Lies, and Videotape, his Palm
D’Or winning debut feature, he lapsed into a series of failed films (King
of the Hill, Kafka, and The Underneath). It’s rather
unfortunate to see that trend seemingly repeating after he delivered last
year’s double whammy of Erin Brockovich and Traffic. Ocean’s
Eleven, his latest film, is a disappointingly substandard heist flick made
noteworthy only by the big-name ensemble that it has inexplicably attracted. The film features several A-list actors that generally
carry their own films, but it’s disheartening that none of them looked at the
chance to work in an ensemble as an opportunity to play with or shed their
typical onscreen persona. So, in typical fashion, we get George Clooney in what
is a pale shadow of his Out of Sight performance, Julia Roberts as a
shrill career girl who’s ultimately confused about love, Matt Damon as the
nervous young prodigy, and Brad Pitt as the cocksure swaggerer with the
unchecked id (though seeing him struggle with a pile of horrid looking nachos
was the highlight of the film for me). There’s nothing inherently wrong with
these personas, as there’s a good reason that all of these celebrities are
famous, but to see them treading water as they are here is depressing, no matter
what the ambitions of the project. One of the best things about genre pictures
is that they allow actors to be over the top or to work outside their standard
roles. Since the audience knows roughly what the plot in a heist flick will
bring, surprises are often filtered through in acting choices or thematic
elements. Ocean’s Eleven seems to want us to take pleasure in its
typecasting, and is relatively inconsequential thematically. Since the film doesn’t aspire
to any level of subtext, one would hope that at least the theft itself is
cleverly staged. Unfortunately, it isn’t. I could easily rattle off a dozen
heist flicks that do what this film does, better (for example - Rififi, Lock
Stock & Two Smoking Barrels, Jackie Brown, The Thomas Crown
Affair, The Newton Boys, Reservoir Dogs, Mission:
Impossible, this year’s Snatch, Sexy Beast, The Score or Heist,
or my favorite of Soderbergh’s films, Out of Sight). There’s
remarkably little tension in the film, since there’s no sense of danger to be
found. Instead of suspense, a smart-alecky frat boy’s outlook is presented.
This might allow for a few funny moments and amusing one-liners (though half of
them fall flat on their faces), but it never, ever allows us for a moment to
worry about the crew. They’re supposed to be loveable since they’re pretty
and clever, even though they’re stealing, but thanks to lousy dialogue and a
general lack of motivation, none of them manages the charm they’ve proved
capable of in the past. So much of Ocean’s Eleven seems as if it coasting
by on reputation. For example, even though she’s poorly lit and relatively
bad-looking here, we’re supposed to think Julia Roberts is hot here just
because Matt Damon says she is and because she was hot in other films. The sense
of laid-back cool that the film strives for is never achieved since it’s so
referential of other films. It’s as if the film’s mimicking what it thinks
we think is cool instead of just accepting that its premise is inherently cool
(which it admittedly is). It’s as if the director was so sure that this
film’s cast and commercial premise made the film a sure thing that he had
little interest in making it good. The sad thing is that it’s not even an
ambitious failure like his Kafka was, but simply a film that fails to
entertain on the basest levels. Surely, Soderbergh will regain his footing as a
director, and return to making great films in the future, and hopefully it
won’t take as many stumbles until his next good work, but Ocean’s Eleven
shows his propensity for inconsistency. *½ 12-08-01 Jeremy Heilman
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