In 2005, I was fortunate enough to work on a feature that was shot in Las Vegas. It was a blessing because the film featured a number of famous poker players, and we had access to unusual areas of the Downtown and The Strip. It was also a curse, because you’re there for many weeks, and there are only a few options of what to do. And we were working full days which means the only downtime was on the weekend. Still, I wish I was there for Ocean’s Eleven because I could watch Soderbergh work as the Director of Photography, and I could watch how fast he shoots. (Of course that comes with the curse of even more down time.)
Ocean’s Eleven is a fun piece of pure Hollywood entertainment, the kind you don’t feel guilty for watching. It starts with the All-Star cast, who bring maximum charisma to the film, but at its core is a really good script in the hands of a great director. Zeverybody gets their moment to shine, from Eddie Jemison’s sweaty visit to the security camera room to the bickering of Casey Affleck and Scott Caan, to the great romantic comedy exchanges between Julia Roberts and George Clooney. Even the usually deadpan Andy Garcia turns in an exciting turn as casino owner Terry Benedict.
The film is a collection of great moments, like Clooney’s pitch to Brad Pitt (“Been practicing that speech, haven’t you?”), Elliot Gould’s story of the 3 people who came closest to robbing a Vegas casino, Bernie Mac pretending to be easily insulted by racism from the Gaming Commission (“You might as well call it whitejack.”) and Don Cheadle rocking an English accent for his own amusement. If I could be around for one scene though, it would be the lyrical sequence towards the end where the group watch the Bellagio fountains. Very simple idea, just leave it up to the actors to say everything while saying nothing.
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