Crime caper could use a lucky charm

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This article was published 08/06/2018 (2842 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

The good news about Ocean’s 8: At no point does Julia Roberts show up to play a thief masquerading as Julia Roberts.

A spin-off of Steven Soderbergh’s Danny Ocean movies — which were themselves a remake of a Frank Sinatra 1960 Rat Pack movie — 8 transposes the heist formula to an all-female set of felons.

Veracity-wise, it is also a step back from some of the stupidity of the later Ocean movies involving aforementioned Julia Roberts double.

A back-to-basics approach is not a bad idea. Stacking the deck with some super-charged talent such as Cate Blanchett and Helena Bonham Carter doesn’t hurt either.

And yet…

Sandra Bullock is Debbie Ocean, the sister of George Clooney’s Danny Ocean character, freshly released from a five-year prison sentence served after being betrayed by her art-world boyfriend Claude (Richard Armitage).

Debbie emerges from stir with a big, elaborate, Ocean-y plan to knock off the Met Gala, specifically a $150-million diamond necklace to be worn by movie star Daphne Kluger (Anne Hathaway).

To pull it off, she’ll need the services of her former partner in crime Lou (Blanchett) and a host of recruits, including a jewelry-maker (Mindy Kaling) eager to escape the clutches of her domineering mother; expert pickpocket Constance (Awkwafina); Nine Ball (Rihanna), a streetwise computer hacker (is that a thing?); Tammy (Sarah Paulson), a classy fence, able to procure the most arcane tools; and best of all, Rose Weil (Helena Bonham Carter), a fashion designer facing the dismal prospect that she’s just gone out of fashion.

If you’ve seen any of the other Ocean’s movies, you know what follows. The gang proceeds to game the event to gain admittance, including installing Tammy in the offices of Vogue magazine to gain proximity to editor and gala chief Anna Wintour.

To say much more of the plot would risk spoilers. As it is, the film is already kind of spoiled by a certain emptiness in its execution. Director and, with Olivia Milch, co-screenwriter Gary Ross doesn’t have Soderbergh’s pizzazz when it comes to editing. The thing has the pacing of an especially ponderous police procedural.

Of the cast, only Bonham Carter brings a real sense of fun with her dotty designer. Soderbergh’s films gave licence to their actors to play cute, and Lordy, they did. But Ross doesn’t extend the same freedom to his female cast, except for comedian-rapper Awkwafina, who oversteps outside the cute boundaries by several yards.

Pity. This is a movie in serious need of a charm offensive. Even the usually amiable Bullock mainly registers as peevish. Her scenes with partner Blanchett make one downright nostalgic for the sexual sparks between Clooney and Brad Pitt.

The movie does make a point of outfitting each of the cast in a fabulous Met Gala gown for the climax, even if that makes no logistical sense. It’s ingratiating, for-the-ladies kind of goody-bag content that this movie should have risen above. 

Here’s betting audiences would have been happier with more wit, more snappy rapport and more, dare we say it, sisterhood.

randall.king@freepress.mb.ca

Twitter: @FreepKing