Ocean's Eleven


Soderbergh’s unofficial sequel to Out Of Sight (immaculate optics, a cooler-than-thou Clooney, scorer David Holmes’ throbbing bucket-funk) shifts it like a shark through Brylcreem. Building on the crucial fundamental that the secret to a good heist is in the set-up, Danny Ocean’s audacious busting of three Vegas casinos in one night avoids all the pitfalls of its back-slapping Rat Pack source.

We’re talking cosmic casting here – from Pitt and Clooney’s smartmouth volleying to Carl Reiner’s washed-up scammer, there’s not a weak link in sight. Bottling each star’s charisma is no mean feat, but Soderbergh’s ultimate coup is mashing up styles (fades, flashbacks, split-screen, kitchen sink) without it feeling overdone (much like GoodFellas, even the editing’s witty). Sceptics might scoff that it’s a movie about nothing and too immersed in its own good looks, but, strutting inside its own hermetically-sealed universe of cool, it already feels timeless. See it and swagger.

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