Ocean's Eleven: A-

Steven Soderbergh, working from a script forged by Ted Griffin, is a professional intimist. He films his movies himself, using close-ups and over-the-shoulder conversation styles to give us the sense of close connection with the stars on screen. Here he uses it again, in a loose remake of a movie we all knew the Rat Pack had fun making but we didn't have fun watching. The characters are different, the hiest is not: knock over three casino's (The MGM, The Bellagio, and The Mirage) owned by the man screwing Danny Ocean's (George Clooney) ex-wife Tess (Julia Roberts). To do it he'll need a motley crue including a 'munnitions expert (Don Cheadle), an old pro (Carl Reiner), a tiny chinese acrobat (Shinobao Quin), and his best friend and right hand man Rusty (Brad Pitt). The chemistry from the original, stating that the theif persona was really just a vogue projection of male bonding, is intact. The zinging, witty, delightfully pleasurable sugary high of a script is new however. Oh yeah and of course Soderbergh's staging of the movie is as well. What starts out as glacially paced changes into an elegant final act of pure escapism. Each moment is playfully suspenseful not because there is a chance our boys will get caught but because we have no idea how they'll get away with it and Soderbergh only unviels the plan to do so when it's right in front of our noses. There must be alittle something said of the cast: they're laidback and fun, tossing off phrases and quips that, instead of pausing for the expected laugh from the audience, go whizzing right on by in time for another. The dialouge is excelently written. The movie is a triffle of a thing but a delightful one that just may leave your head spinning from joy.