Ocean's Eleven Review

Ocean's Eleven is one hell of a stuffed movie! It literally falls apart at the seams with Hollywood poster boys coupled with a truckload of tinsel, some glam bam showbiz glitz and chic. Check out the talent - Clooney, Pitt, Damon and Julia Roberts! No wonder the halls are so packed. There's enough for both the sexes and much more.

But more than plain eye candy, Ocean's Eleven steps delicately into the shoes vacated by the Rat Pack - the inimitable Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin and Sammy Davis Junior. If you recoiled in tender horror at facing another remake and thought that this flick is not worth the whistle, then put your boots on buddy, the verdict is out - Ocean's Eleven is here to stay! (For the next week or so, at least!)

The buzz goes something like this... Daniel Ocean is fresh out of the cooler and seems to have spent time constructively behind 'em vertical bars as he comes up with a well oiled plan to empty a Las Vegas casino vault of a couple of bazillion dollars and also get the chica bonita with the platinum smile and a head full of healthy hair (do I have to spell who it is out for you?). Not exactly a heist to be performed with a 10 o'clock dentist's appointment, Ocean ropes in his eleven to see him through his 'smash and grab' escapade.

One short of the Dirty Dozen, Ocean banks (pun unintended) on the collective talents of Don Cheadle (and a rather blotchy cockney accent), Brad Pitt (master co-coordinator extraordinaire), Matt Damon, one rubber band man whose name is a bigger mystery then Pakistan's foreign policy, and a swarthy Elliot Gould, who makes for a great watch as he fakes stuff in the coolest of ways. Now with his team in place, Ocean heads to 'screw the man who's screwing his ex-wife' - Casino owner Terry Benedict (Andy Garcia).

The bunch bundle up at the Casino Bellagio and orchestrate the heist, and this makes for some fun gaping at the screen. Thankfully the director doesn't take us for adults with finger painting as a hobby, and spares us all the details till the end, where we watch the robbery unfold before our thrilled mugs. It's an exciting 15 minutes as we giggle like bubble blowing teenagers and watch the flick as it entertains through and through like there's no tomorrow.

Oceans' Eleven is a film that doesn't pressure your brain with elaborate scheming and counter scheming, but it winds down a route where you just watch and don't question the logic of the actions or the script. This flick is another great way of putting off important work until the next 24 hours and shouldn't be missed for all the chips in the planet.

Clooney does a smash job as the ex-con and simmers with a velvet arrogance, and I would go all out of my way to cast my vote for him as the next Bond (aw shucks, Pierce Brosnan is too frail to even unclasp his watch). Poster boy Brad Pitt munches his way through his screen time as he shimmers in and out as Rusty, Clooney's right hand man.

"So? Are you in or out?" asks Clooney. I'm in!!!