Smug

Rating: 5/10 (9 February 2005)

Directed by: Steven Soderbergh
Starring: George Clooney, Brad Pitt, Julia Roberts, Catherine Zeta-Jones, Casey Affleck, Scott Caan, Don Cheadle, Matt Damon, Andy Garcia, Elliott Gould, Carl Reiner, Shaobo Qin, Eddie Jemison, Bernie Mac, Vincent Cassel
Smug. No other word can come to mind when watching Ocean's Twelve, Steven Soderbergh's latest step down the ladder of respectability.
When he brilliantly re-made the 1960 Rat Pack flick Ocean's Eleven for the New Millennium Audience, critics thought he was just taking time off. Yet films like these seem to be his bread and butter these days. Why else would he even contemplate making a sequel? Perhaps he might have been better off not going mainstream after all. Since Out Of Sight, his standard has gradually fallen. (I was one of those not overly impressed by Traffic.) Well, in fairness to him, you could do worse. I can't think of many other directors who could get such a cast together for a popcorn film, and then photograph them so well, before proceeding to waste them. Sure, they might be having fun (perhaps too much fun), but you know they could be doing better. That wasn't really a problem in Ocean's Eleven, because the audience were enjoying themselves too. This time, though, the audience appears to have been left out of the "fun", so to speak.
During the opening 20 minutes, Ocean's Twelve looks like it might just be the rarity of a sequel that bests the original. Casino boss Terry Benedict (Andy Garcia) is set out on taking revenge against Danny Ocean (George Clooney) and his band of eleven after their successful heist in the first film. When Benedict tracks them down, he quickly lays down his orders: pay back what you stole, plus interest, in two weeks.
Sounds like the set-up for a worthwhile sequel, doesn't it? Well, it gets more ambitious. The gang decide to jet off to Europe to find the money, but soon, they become tracked by sexy Europol agent Isabel Lahiri (Catherine Zeta-Jones). And this, my friends, is where the heists - and the problems - begin.
Screenwriter George Nolfi tries to impress us with dialogue that isn't really that impressive. The heist subplots twist and turn so much that they aren't worth caring about. A character illogically switches to the good side. Two admittedly innovative scenes nearly come off, but end up feeling self-indulgent.
While all this is going on, the cast (and the director, you sense) seem to be smirking throughout. (The biggest offender of the lot would have to be Vincent Cassel, who makes his supposedly important character irritating.) All in all, it's reminiscent of Quentin Tarantino at his absolute worst. Even David Holmes is in below par form as he produces a rather forgettable score.
In a way, watching Ocean's Twelve is like watching a dozen Jose Mourinhos. But at least that man has a good reason to be pleased with himself.
Rating: ** (out of *****)