It’s Twelve O’clock, Do You Know Where Your Movie Is?

In the three years since Danny Ocean (George Clooney) and his crew stole $160 million from casino owner Terry Benedict (Andy Garcia), he and his wife (on their second marriage) Tess (Julia Roberts) have jumped around the globe. Now, back in the States and intent on living a normal life (even if that does mean casing a few banks if only for the fun of it), Danny finds this tough when Benedict comes calling demanding his money with three years of interest attached.

Ocean isn’t the only one to receive an ultimatum. Right-hand Rusty (Brad Pitt), pickpocket Linus (Matt Damon), demolition expert Basher (Don Cheadle), safecracker Frank (Bernie Mac), brothers Virgil (Casey Affleck) and Turk (Scott Caan), money-man Reuben (Elliott Gould) and old-timer Saul (Carl Reiner) all find themselves with an unexpected visitor. But who sold them out? And, better yet, how are they going to come up with enough decently paying gigs to pay Benedict off before he rubs them out?

Too hot to work in the U.S., they all pack their bags and head to Europe where they run face-to-face with intrepid EuroPol agent Isabel Lahiri (Catherine Zeta-Jones), whom just happens to be Rusty’s jilted ex. But that’s nothing compared to problem number two, that being every job they try to pull being done right out from under them by a master French thief (Vincent Cassell) intent on proving he’s the best burglar in the world. In fact, he’s so sure of it he offers Ocean and his crew a deal: Steal the unstealable before he does and he’ll pay off all of their debts to Benedict.

Thus is Ocean’s Twelve, the unnecessary but still highly enjoyable follow-up to 2001’s phenomenally successful Ocean’s Eleven. This is a light, breezy romp that certainly doesn’t take an ounce of effort to view, everyone involved looking as if they are having the best time in the world fitting back into the comfortable shoes of these wonderful characters. With Steven Soderbergh once more at the helm, the movie is expertly crafted, shuttling forward from scene to effervescent scene like one of Michael Caine’s classic British crime comedies such as the original The Italian Job.

Well done, that’s a given, but there is still one mighty big problem: The moment you leave the theater you don’t remember a single moment of import. Like a breezy Chardonnay, Ocean’s Twelve evaporates from memory the very instant the end credits begin their crawl. This is a thin, nearly plotless motion picture devoid of any of the interesting twists, turns or character moments that made the first so eminently enjoyable. It’s a lark, a vacation, nothing more than a European romp and an excuse for Clooney and his pals to enjoy a rustic vacation with the added bonus of being able to write the whole thing off as a business expense.

Not that any of this really matters while you’re the theater. I must admit to being perfectly at ease for the two hours Soderbergh and Clooney worked their mojo on me. Heck, if anything I was dutifully impressed, especially by Zeta-Jones’ intensely playful and subtly sexy performance. If anything, she’s the only one whom you get the feel thought she was making a real, honest-to-goodness movie and it shows in her acting. There is an arc to Lahiri that’s immensely interesting, and I kept imagining a better, more intriguing film with her character as the center.

Not all that surprising, considering screenwriter George Nolfi’s original script was a crime caper entitled Honor Among Thieves and was a much more stripped down affair. But only the bones of that story remain, Nolfi hired to peal away the layers and turn his original creation into a completely different animal fitted for a cast of superstars. It shows, too, for other than Ocean, Ryan, Zeta-Jones and Cassell’s thief, everything else feels like filler manufactured to give every cast member and cameo star a moment in the sun. It’s basically just more of the same from the first, only this time without a centrally beguiling center holding it together.

Any idea this crew was even slightly interested in making something remotely serious (SPOILER ALERT – stop reading now if you think you might be surprised, not that I’m betting you will be) becomes moot when Tess impersonates Julia Roberts. It is an utterly insane plot twist; funny and silly and stupid and intoxicating all in the same breath, and I nearly fell off my seat when I realized Soderbergh was going to have the gumption to even go there. But, just as fast as this reality blender starts to turn, it is just as quickly tossed away, discarded like a cheap five-second gag which must explain why I don’t feel even the slightest hesitation speaking about it. (END SPOILER and, again, I don’t feel a bit guilty.)

What’s truly unfortunate is that there is so much more delight to be found here in this trifle then there’s been in almost every other hotly anticipated Holiday release this year. Alexander was a catastrophe, the less said about Christmas with the Kranks the better and I won’t even begin to reiterate my disappointment in Blade: Trinity. In fact, I’m almost starting to get angry now that I’m pondering it. Just think, if Clooney, Pitt, Roberts, Soderbergh, et al can make something as agreeable as this without even generating a sweat, imagine what they could have done had they REALLY worked at it? I guess we’ll never know, especially if all any of this talented crew is interested in doing is stealing our time.

Film Rating: êê1/2  (out of 4)