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Ocean's Eleven
by
debbie lynn elias
Smart, suave, slick,
sophisticated and sexy. No - I’m not just describing George Clooney, the 21st
Century’s version of Cary Grant, but also this year’s holiday gift from
super producer Jerry Weintraub and Oscar winning director Steven Soderbergh. And
let me tell you, this is one gift that carefully unwraps itself, revealing
another and another and yet another, sparkling gem of filmmaking and acting
excellence not to be missed. Tightly and sharply scripted by Ted Griffin,
"Ocean’s Eleven" is a remake of the 1960's Rat Pack classic by the
same name which starred guys like Sinatra, Martin, Lawford and Davis (Jr., that
is). Here, we have the likes of Clooney, Pitt, Cheadle and Damon, not to mention
legends Gould and Reiner.
Clooney, taking on the Sinatra
role of Danny Ocean, is newly paroled, having been in the joint because
"[he] stole things." Obviously having had a great deal of time on his
hands over the past four years, Danny is anxious to get back to work and has
cooked up the granddaddy of all scams - rob the central vault in Las Vegas which
houses all the money for the Bellagio, MGM Grand and The Mirage - which, on a
weekend (and especially a fight weekend), will contain approximately $150
million dollars. Hooking up with his old buddy Rusty, played by Brad Pitt who
slips into this role like one of his well-tailored silk suits, they assemble a
dream team of masterful skilled crooks and cons to assist in this very lucrative
business endeavor.
Bankrolling the operation (until
the payoff , of course) is Rueben Tishkoff, a former casino owner, trapped in a
60's and 70's Vegas lifestyle complete with gold chains, paisley print clothing,
and Elvis sunglasses, who is played superbly to excess by Elliott Gould in one
of his sharpest and funniest performances in years. Carl Reiner, steps to the
plate and hits a home run as Saul Bloom, master impersonator now retired from
the game and living the good life at the dog track in Florida, who can’t help
but say yes to this project. Don Cheadle, complete with comic timing and a
cockney accent, is explosives expert Basher Tarr while Matt Damon is Linus
Caldwell, a somewhat nerdy and seemingly innocent second generation con artist
with very fast hands. Rounding out the team are brothers Virgil and Turk Malloy,
played to sibling rivalry perfection by Casey Affleck and Scott Caan, Bernie Mac
as dealer Frank/Ramon and Shaobo Qin as Chinese acrobatist, Yen.
Naturally, Danny didn’t just
randomly select the vault to these three casinos. No, he picked those belonging
to Terry Benedict, billionaire casino owner who just happens to be the man
romancing Danny’s ex-wife, Tess. Andy Garcia is the embodiment of Benedict,
exuding precision, perfection and confidence while having a stare that could
freeze ice. Julia Roberts, beautiful as ever, plays Tess with every ounce of
scorn and sarcasm she can muster. Is this heist to get the girl or to get the
money? Adding another little twist is the twinge of revenge Tishkoff would like
to exact against Benedict, the latter of whom "stole" Tishkoff’s
casino out from under him and is now razing it. Nicely inserted is footage from
the actual demolition of the Desert Inn.
Great detail is spent outlining
and explaining the job with covert military precision, not only to the team, but
to the audience, employing voice-overs describing what will occur or what is
occurring as concurrent events are happening, including the erection of a
full-scale model of the vault itself and "run-through." Undisputably
the best part of this film, however, is the delivery of dialogue and character
chemistry. Clooney and Pitt have all the comic timing of Hope and Crosby laced
with Clooney’s unflappable calm, grace and unrivaled level of 60's
"cool" and a non-chalance from Pitt that makes you sit up and take
notice. Clooney and Garcia do a verbal sparring that is so smooth, calculating
and exacting that to the uninformed ear one wouldn’t know the level of
despicability their characters have for each other, but for the specific tonal
inflection of each spoken word. And of course, the exchanges between Clooney and
Roberts sizzle with sarcasm and underlying sexual tension.
Although a seemingly routine type
of film for someone of Soderbergh’s ilk, he doesn’t treat it as such,
keeping the pace quick, visuals sharp and at times, panoramic, eliciting
extraordinary performances from each of his principals, and adding a finessed
ending not found in the original. Perhaps that is one of the beauteous things
about this film - Soderbergh doesn’t do a remake - he makes this film his own.
Most telling of this is an exquisite sequence of the waters of the Bellagio
dancing in the moonlight to a backdrop of Debussy’s "Clair de Lune."
The lengths taken by George Clooney
in order to see this film made are well known. Combining enough star wattage
to rival the lights of Vegas, the writing talents of Ted Griffin and Soderbergh’s
incredible directorial and cinematographic gifts, you’ve got yourself a winner
that will stand the test of time. Thanks George!
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