How is this movie any different than watching them play croquet? It's not like they're acting in this thing. Nobody in the theater is contemplating the realism of Clooney's portrayal of ex-con Danny Ocean or Julia Roberts' Tess Ocean (his ex-wife). They're all just there being themselves, screaming to the world that they're having fun, horsing around, being buddies.

The thing is, I don't go to movies to watch millionaire actors have fun. Like my boss tells me when I sit at my desk and surf porn sites: "Do your damn job!" Nobody wanted to watch Pamela Anderson or Tommy Lee act, either, which is why they upped the ante by making that honeymoon screwing tape. That Steven Soderbergh got hauled into this mess is somebody's attempt to make this look like a credible effort. It's a heist picture based on a 1960 movie of the same name that starred Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Sammy Davis, Jr., Peter Lawford, and Angie Dickinson.

Right after Danny Ocean gets out of jail, he hooks up with his best bud Rusty (Pitt) and plans the biggest robbery in Las Vegas history. Their plan is to knock over the safe under the Bellagio. That hotel happens to be run by Harry Benedict (Andy Garcia), who's now dating Ocean's ex-wife. Just a thought, but if Benedict were really as careful as the film portrays him, wouldn't he check out the fact that he's dating the ex-wife of an ex-con who's a skilled thief? Ocean's crew includes Don Cheadle (sporting a British accent to remind us that Guy Ritchie does this genre better), Carl Reiner, Scott Caan, Casey Affleck, a computer geek, and a very small Chinese man.

I guess we're supposed to wonder if Danny Ocean and friends will actually pull this heist off, but I never did do much wondering, seeing how there are no complications in the movie. Anything remotely technical is glossed over, and everything the Ocean's Eleven does always works. In the end, "Ocean's Eleven" is far more focused on the actors' entertainment than on the audience's.