Bovie Movie

Despite returning to Las Vegas where the series began, Steven Soderbergh’s second sequel to 2001’s Ocean’s Eleven fails to rediscover the sheer insouciance of the original. George Clooney, Brad Pitt, Matt Damon and the rest of the cast reprise their roles as the charming conmen, who this time target the hi-tech casino of ruthless Vegas businessman Willy Bank (Al Pacino). The strength of the series was always its breezy enthusiasm, but here there’s a chronic lack of fun: Pacino barely gets out of first gear, while Clooney seems to have his mind on other things. Only Ellen Barkin appears to be enjoying herself, shining in a comic role that sees her dosed with potent pheromones and seduced by a heavily disguised Matt Damon. Apparently there won’t be an “Ocean’s Fourteen”; clearly, Soderbergh’s under no illusions that Ocean’s winning streak has dried up at last. 

This tense, glossy and violent thriller stars Michael Douglas and Andy Garcia as New York cops on assignment in Japan where yakuza gangsters wield razor-sharp swords and where Kate Capshaw hangs out in a nightclub à la Marlene Dietrich. This being a Ridley Scott film, the atmosphere is so hyped up that the picture threatens to burst an artery every second, and Jan De Bont’s photography (he went on to direct Speed and Twister ) delights in the neon-lit locations and makes the city of Osaka look like a vision of hell. Beneath all this is a very conventional cop thriller that makes an occasional comment about Japan’s economic miracle following Hiroshima. 

After his thoughtful and engaging cop thriller Narc (2001), writer/director Joe Carnahan wildly misses the mark here with this Tarantino-style black comedy. When Las Vegas showman Buddy “Aces” Israel (Entourage’s Jeremy Piven) agrees to turn FBI informant, his former Mob cronies put out a hit on him. Enter a motley assortment of assassins ranging from Ben Affleck to singer Alicia Keys (who should stick to the day job), with Ray Liotta and Ryan Reynolds thrown into the mix as Federal agents out to protect their asset. However, instead of crafting characters to laugh with (or even at), Carnahan indulges in a sniggering schoolboy obsession with casual mutilation and silly wigs. It’s safe to say the director has played his joker here — and lost. 

Set in Paris in 1919, biopic centers on the life of late Italian artist Amedeo Modigliani, focusing on his last days as well as his rivalry with Pablo Picasso. Modigliani, a Jew, has fallen in love with Jeanne, a young and beautiful Catholic girl. The couple has an illegitimate child, and Jeanne’s bigoted parents send the baby to a faraway convent to be raised by nuns. Modigliani is distraught and needs money to rescue and raise his child. The answer arrives in the shape of Paris’ annual art competition. Prize money and a guaranteed career await the winner. Neither Modigliani, nor his dearest friend and rival Picasso have ever entered the competition, believing that it is beneath true artists like themselves. But push comes to shove with the welfare of his child on the line, and Modigliani signs up for the competition in a drunken and drug-induced tirade. Picasso follows suit and all of Paris is aflutter with excitement at who will win. With the balance of his relationship with Jeanne on the line, Modigliani tackles this work with the hopes of creating a masterpiece, and knows that all the artists of Paris are doing the same.

The Godfather was a masterpiece and so, too, was its sequel. Yet this third picture is merely a distant relative and was made for purely mercenary reasons (director Francis Ford Coppola reportedly needed the money for a personal project). Thanks to the badly bungled corkscrew plot — no one has a clue what’s going on, apart from some vague corruption in the Vatican — one is left with the basic theme of Michael Corleone (Al Pacino), unable to renounce crime and being slowly transformed into a martyr. Pacino has some fine moments and Andy Garcia is frequently electrifying as Sonny Corleone’s bastard son, Vincent Mancini, the new don on the block. However, Coppola’s own daughter, Sofia, who took over at the last minute from Winona Ryder, is embarrassing as Michael’s daughter Mary, the film’s symbol of innocence.