Ocean's 12
12-28-2004

 

Synapses: 11+1 equals a predictable sequel involving a double-switchoo, and enough blue lasers to piss off the CIA. Something new to steel, but only for fun - after all its a contest of who has the most secretive balls, and who has the coolest haircut. Note of mention: don't miss the Yankees/Sox fight in the train at the end. Classic.

So, there I was anticipating nothing, and I was right - as usual. This doesn't mean it was a bad movie. It was entertaining - but that doesn't mean I liked it. It was OK, and since I do a review site, I figured what the hell. I had 2 hours to waste, and Zeta-Jones-Douglas is a babe. Plus, I have T-Mobile. It all fits in to place, when you look at it.

Who's the best thief? Well just ask Julia Robert's who not only plays her character, but her pseudo self. An appearance by Bruce Willis makes you wonder how much they spent on the top billing of this bound-to-make-a-billion-because-of-all-the-new-brat-pack-posers included in the cast. They are all fine separately, but put them into a room, and its an idiot convention. That's still fine with me though.

The contest is pretty silly, because at the end you realize YOU were the one who was ripped off, not some museum in Amsterdam. And that's another thing: I didn't see one dope shop in the whole movie? I don't condone that sort of thing, but seriously, its fucking Amsterdam! So for two hours Im sitting there filling my self up on beef jerky and string cheese, trying to hold my urine while I wait for something cook to happen next. The only thing I see is a foreign guy doing yoga trying to avoid an elaborate array of security lasers. I don't need to see dome dudes package knobbling back and forth on any day. Thanks.

At this point I go to take a leak. A long one. And I swear when I come back I think they paused the movie just for me. Because this asshole is still maneuvering himself through the lasers. Hurry the fuck up already will you?

Brad gets his cell phone swipped. Burnie Mac gets a manicure. Daemon gets a clue. I get sick. George, Brad and Matt are all in this bar with that huge troll guy from Harry Potter swapping bullshit verbage back and forth as a joke. I didn't get it. Then again the joke was on me. I just wasted 10 minutes of my life I wont get back. Well, wait - I took that huge piss. We're even. Thanks Hollywood. You Fuckers.

I want to use words like hosh-posh and sly... sneaky and WOWZERS. But instead I whipped a coconut at my scrotum and was over that nearly instantly. This movie shouldn't have been made. In fact, Im not even going to evaluate it with my usual ratings system. Lets just say it sucked shank. In the end all is well, because the director/writer of whomever the real thief is here (it's certainly not the crafty acting) pieces together a secondary story that only takes place in the memory of George's characters walnut sized brain. That's when the best part happens: Yankee fan -VS.- Sox fan. Oh yeah, and some shit about a golden egg. What the fuck is this, Mother Goose?

FINAL SCORE: Ocean's 12: 3 - Me: ZERO.

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