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Rating:
While tidying up my video collection just this afternoon, I stumbled upon a film that I liked back then (way back in 2001). Perhaps because I was fourteen and, as you know, at that time one's mindset can be unstable. Or maybe it was just the hormones making me like this film, with the faces of Brad Pitt, Matt Damon, Andy García, the legendary and unfailingly charming His Majesty George Clooney; a little knee-weakening can be understandable. Remember my knees because we'll come back to them soon. Anyway.
Let's start right away by saying that the story is one of the most insipid. The idea isn't original (robbing a casino), but the director tries to sell it to us as such by stuffing it with ultra-high-tech gadgets, a gang of delinquents (who more than making the film believable, strangely resemble the Beagle Boys) led by Danny Ocean, who, besides wanting to become monstrously rich, also wants to win back his ex-wife, who is seeing the owner of the aforementioned casino. Hooray! Obviously, God makes them and then pairs them, that's why she, beautiful as the sun but dumb as a worm, instead of telling him to stay away because she does what she wants with her life, being a born delinquent, throws herself into Danny's arms without passing GO, thus without collecting twenty thousand lire (which she doesn't need anyway, given the amount of money they'll grab). Aside from the star parade, this film has nothing else that might induce one to talk a moment more than necessary: in short, Roberts, García, and Damon are pleasant to watch but aren't enough on their own.
Remember when I mentioned my knees above? Good (drum roll), I meant to talk about the milk run down them while my ears flopped like those of a Star Wars Jedi, upon hearing the Jokes. Yes, indeed, this film, besides trying to be what it's not, also tries to be funny (after all, it would have been even less believable to pretend this story really happened or is achievable outside the cardboard walls of Hollywood); here and there, some smile-worthy situation appears, a joke; not even that funny by the way. We might even forget we watched a film once we've pressed the STOP button on the remote. Something light, very light, that turns off the brain (because after a while, you can no longer bear hearing them talk only about the high-tech gadgets with which they'll open the vault and even Andy García's backside... and the boredom also overtakes the viewer during the interminable—but I imagine necessary—moments when they use those supports, with an aim and precision of Olympic athletics, with very few hitches).
Les jeux sont faits... but let's not talk nonsense, please!!
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