Usually when people offer up remakes that are better than the original, their first port of call is to pick either a slice of 80s body horror, or roll up their sleeves to debate whether or not such filmmakers as Spielberg or Scorsese managed to better the classics they endeavoured to up date. However, what seldomly gets mentioned is the painfully cool razzmatazz Steven Soderbergh managed to bequeath upon the likes on his redo of Ocean’s Eleven – but that’s probably got more to do with the fact that the original Eleven wasn’t that great to begin with.
Released in 1960 and boasting the mouth watering premise of the Rat Pack playing career criminals plotting to multiple casinos in Las Vegas, the film turned out to be something of a stodgy affair that squandered it’s cast, premise and location on a caper that was unforgivably dull. However, with a 2001 face-lift on the cards, Soderbergh came ready with an all-star cast and oodles of cool to spare. Prepare to see how you really beat Vegas.
Released from prison after a four-year stint still wearing the tux he was in when he was arrested, Danny Ocean obviously had a lot of time to ponder his future. He also had a lot of time to plan his next job too, so instantly blowing of the requirements of his parole, Danny starts rounding up a crew starting with old friend and fellow professional Rusty Ryan who has sunk to teaching Hollywood stars how to play poker for movie roles. Danny’s proposition is bold – he plans to amass a team to rob three casinos simultaneously by hitting an underground Vault that hold all three casino’s cash the night of a huge prize fight and before you can say punchy recruitment montage, we have all the major players.
Joining Danny and Rusty are Reuben Tishkoff, who is bankrolling the endevour; con man Frank Catton to work in one of the casinos; retired con man Saul Bloom; squabbling auto specialists Virgil and Turk Malloy; wonky accented bomb expert Basher Tarr; surveillance whizz Livingston Dell; Chinese acrobat Yen and hungry pickpocket, Linus Caldwell – but some of them might want to reconsider when they realise who they’re up against and why.
The owner of said casinos is non-other than the exceedingly cold blooded Terry Benedict, who not only takes no prisoners when people fuck with him, but he’s also currently dating Danny’s ex-wife, Less, whom Danny is still in love with. This, of course, sets off Rusty’s internal alarms quicker than a flat-footed cat burglar who isn’t happy to take such risks just so Danny can metaphorically black the eye of his wife’s new beau, but while tension rises, other links in the group start to loosen.
Is Linus too green? Is Saul’s health up to the task? Is Yen’s injured hand going to be a problem? Will Tess prove to be the distraction that sends Danny back to the clink? Time to let the chips fall where they may and see if the house wins once again.
There’s a school of thought that believes that the only remakes that should be attempted are of movies that actually are a bit duff, but nevertheless still had intriguing premises and when judged against criteria such as this, you can see why Ocean’s Eleven is so beloved. Taking the basic plot of the original, Soderbergh and Co. literally correct every misstep that Sinatra’s crew made, infusing the characters with wit, depth and purpose. It also makes a fundamental difference that everyone in the group is actually likable too and adds zip and verve into a tone that positively screams to be flashy and glib in order to dazzle the eye. However, what Ocean’s Eleven (2001 edition) does best is that it actively takes full advantage of Vegas itself, treating it with a mythical reverence that almost makes the city a twelfth member of the group. Where the original weirdly sold the hypnotic magic of Sin City disappointingly short by not taking full advantage of its garish sensibilities, Soderbergh treats the town with the same sense of awe that Michael Mann usually reserves for LA.
But while the director dazzles while bringing in traces of his indie roots to precedings (he’s also the director of photography), it’s his shamelessly glitzy cast who really bring things home. Clooney could have probably have the offensively slick Danny Ocean in his damn sleep, but thankfully George ensures that his lead is much more than a series of knowing smirks and sharp suits and taking that baton and running with it is Brad Pitt’s Rusty. Constantly funneling snacks into his maw like a man far too busy to actually stop for a meal, his cool, understated bromance with Clooney is the beating heart of the film as the two effortlessly bounce off one another with enough snappy retorts, quips and one liners to fill a dozen of these things.
Smartly, Soderbergh balances the supporting character as deftly as a member of Yen’s acrobatics troupe. Everyone gets their place in the glare of the flashing lights and ample room to strut their stuff: and yet no one is allowed to overwhelm the group. In fact, considering that Julia Roberts and Matt Damon are also major pieces of the puzzle, it’s quite remarkable that they’re not allowed to swamp proceedings. Be it Casey Afflex and Scott Cann’s teasing brothers, Carl Reiner’s old pro, or Elliot Gould’s flamboyant money man, everyone almost has the exact same level of importance to the story and how much drama they bring.
In fact, I’ve come to believe that of all the heist movies of (semi) modern times, it’s Ocean’s Eleven that remains something of a template for anyone wanting to fling their own, particular hat into the cool caper ring. In fact, even a few of the Fast & Furious movies are even borrowing from Soderbergh’s playbook when it comes to lifting villains (Andy Garcia’s reptilian antagonist is a wonderfully underplayed, but still threatening menace), or whole plot points, but there are a few cracks flaws in Ocean’s masterplan.
You know that the film must be good when one of the weaker points turns out to be Don Cheadle of all people, but his legendarily awful cockney accent threatens to undermine the near-perfect tone that Soderbergh has built. Similarly, some of the drama of the individual plot lines are deliberately muted in favour of producing that all important, joyous, final twist and so many films have done something similar since, time has unavoidably eroded it’s effectiveness to those incredibly late to the party. However all this proves to be a small price to pay (yes, even Don Cheadle trying to explain rhyming slang) for a movie that not only magnificently rehabilitates the concept of a duff 60s flick, but gives us one of the best heist movies of all time.
Soderbergh switches into the big leagues with style to spare and a cast to die for as charisma and chemistry fly all over the place like wayward dice. In fact, when it comes to entertaining crime capers, Danny and the gang will ensure you get sent to eleventh heaven.
🌟🌟🌟🌟
We Have Issues 