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OCEAN'S
ELEVEN (Dec 2001)
Director: Steven Soderbergh.
Writers: George Clayton Johnson, Jack Golden Russell, Harry Brown, Charles
Lederer, Ted Griffin.
Starring: George Clooney, Brad Pitt, Don Cheadle, Bernie
Mac, Andy Garcia, Carl Reiner, Matt Damon, Elliott Gould, Julia Roberts, Scott Caan, Casey Affleck, Eddie Jemison, Shaobo Qin.
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Cucumber
Eyes
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Whatchoo
talkin 'bout, Cheadle?
by
Jon Dunmore © 8 Oct 2005.
As
the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences (and every other provincial, back-slapping
institution for the purveyance of "arts") quite often does, another
faux-prestigious award needs to be invented for the sole purpose of giving it
to just one guy: The Most Embarrassing Fake British Accent Of All Time - awarded
to Don Cheadle in OCEAN'S ELEVEN. Surpassing even Keanu's Idiot-British
in BRAM STOKER'S DRACULA or MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, to call Cheadle's abomination of the mother tongue "inauthentic"
would be a compliment.
Cheadle is one of OCEAN'S ELEVEN, a group of super-thieves gathered by an ex-con, Danny Ocean (George Clooney) to heist three Las Vegas casinos simultaneously. Like that 1960 Rat Pack movie of the same name. Only dafter.
In the TV movie THE RAT PACK Cheadle
played Sammy Davis Jnr., a role which called
for the most talented actor of The Pack, as he had to mime not only singing, but
tap-dancing, trumpet-playing and six-gunning, so it is with great concern that
we view this exemplary actor's abject ignorance and lack of perception of one
particular inflective tongue, based on his own spoken language! (Well, actually,
preceding his spoken language, but this ain't the forum for resolving etymological
beefs.)
Still, casting Cheadle as a warbling limey was only nominally
more sensible than casting the shovel-mouthed Julia Roberts as a "beautiful
woman." And as casting choices go, this movie was at a disadvantage from
the outset with the impossible task of filling the shoes of one Francis Albert
Sinatra. In a role which Frank insouciantly tossed off as a lark (which cast all
the more sheen on it for its rebellious bent), head-waggling George Clooney steps
up as Danny Ocean. And fails.
With OCEAN'S ELEVEN, as with ROBIN AND THE SEVEN HOODS, or JAILHOUSE ROCK, or EVERY WHICH WAY BUT LOOSE, we're not so much dealing with movies, as with "movie stars." (True to its pedigree, there are modern "stars" and "stars-to-be" sprinkled liberally throughout ELEVEN 2001.) Re-making films such as these will not capture the consecrated
quality afforded the originals, the passage of time having transformed those icons into gods. It is merely a fiscal exercise, involving brand-name
recognition (buy the rights and sully the nostalgia), curiosity
quotient (we'll get the Frank & Dino fans into the theater at least once),
next-generation retro hipness ("I'm so kewl cos I dig the "classics"),
crossover marketing (with this ensemble, we're bound to get someone
through the turnstiles) and providing A-List actors with work to keep them
off reality shows.
Directed by Steven Soderbergh, the
premise to heist Las Vegas casinos is the only tie with ELEVEN 1960, as this remake had to cater
to the state of advances in hi-tech security, the writers (George Clayton Johnson, Jack Golden Russell, Harry Brown, Charles
Lederer and Ted Griffin) sensibly eschewing re-creating
The Rat Pack's lo-tech heist note for note.
Of
the gang, Brad Pitt is Clooney's Dino; toss-up on Sammy Davis Jnr. (Bernie Mac or Don Cheadle); Matt Damon is the privileged kid, so suffices for Lawford; excepting Elliott Gould and Carl Reiner, the remainder of the Eleven
are "passengers," including Ben Affleck's brother and James
Caan's son gaily taking on half-dimensional roles.
Maybe
it's just that previous generation's devil-may-care tilt at Life (or
at least, the media's reporting of it) that gives ELEVEN 1960
more of a rose-colored flare than all the gadgetry and gags this remake offers
as collateral. Though there are attempts at capturing the magic and camaraderie
of the original (Clooney's best line to Pitt, "Ted Nugent called - he wants
his shirt back"), this movie's redemption is in its slick production value
- it may ring hollow as a buddy-piece, but it slams along frenetically with a dapper soundtrack to match and is truly a guilty ocular pleasure,
highly watchable for its appealing camerawork, lighting and set design.
ELEVEN 1960 packed a hilarious,
if not frustrating, twist ending - unequivocally a more substantial wallop than
the anchor this remake is built on: the interpersonal fizzle between Danny Ocean and the "beautiful woman." Both the relationship and the movie end the same way: Nothing Happens.
With
this ensemble, one would expect roiling acting chops flung at the viewer like
raw meat to lions, but the only players who consistently chew their roles delectably
are Andy Garcia (as the casino owner who gets heisted), Gould and Reiner. Everyone else
is flailing for substance, including Pitt and Clooney who only have a few good
moments together; the rest of the time, vying for enough screentime trying to top each other for one of those
provincial, back-slapping, faux-prestigious awards that already exists: People
Magazine's World's Sexiest Man.
My
vote is for Frank Sinatra.
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OCEAN'S
ELEVEN (Dec 2001)
Director: Steven Soderbergh.
Writers: George Clayton Johnson, Jack Golden Russell, Harry Brown, Charles
Lederer, Ted Griffin.
Starring: George Clooney, Brad Pitt, Don Cheadle, Bernie
Mac, Andy Garcia, Carl Reiner, Matt Damon, Elliott Gould, Julia Roberts, Scott Caan, Casey Affleck, Eddie Jemison, Shaobo Qin.
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