It could be, though, that the self-references just weren't amusing. Though it retains all the elements of the previous movie—smirking banter, here-for-the-paycheck performances, slick wall-to-wall Fatboy Slim-type music—Ocean's Twelve is strangely devoid of any of the enjoyability that made Ocean's Eleven so surprisingly fun. How such a winning formula could result in a film so thoroughly boring is a real mystery. But this movie has zero sould. Where Ocean's Eleven was '70 Elvis burnin' at the International, Ocean's Twelve is '74 Elvis sweatin' it out in some horrible Jacksonville hellhole. The film Êtakes a full hour to even set up its main premise, instead spending an awful lot of time re-introducing the ol' gang, only to not end up using almost any of them—in one instance, an overlong sight gag involving that bendy Chinese guy getting packed into a piece of luggage ends up not factoring into the plot at all … it just sort of dead-ends, like most of the movie. The bulk of the storyline resurrects the con man/FBI agent romance angle Soderbergh already did quite a bit better in Out of Sight, this time substituting Brad Pitt for George Clooney and Catherine Zeta-Jones for Jennifer Lopez. Of course it's not difficult to watch these beautiful folks doing pretty much anything, but it really began to seem like Soderbergh was specifically trying to see just how boring he could make things before anyone noticed that they might as well just be looking at an issue of Star magazine. The film hits its lowest point with a smug plot twist involving Tess (Julia Roberts) trying to pass herself off as Julia Roberts, and having her attempt foiled by Bruce Willis (Bruce Willis). Julia Roberts and Bruce Willis satirizing themselves was savagely funny … in The Player.
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