Ocean's Eleven

by

debbie lynn elias

Smart, suave, slick, sophisticated and sexy. No - I’m not just describing George Clooney, the 21^st 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!