The short version is: terrible, but hilarious.

As I said to Darin in the car last night, “In two days I’m not going to be able to tell you anything about the plot of this movie.” And here it is, the morning, and I realize that I was way, way optimistic with the whole “two days” thing. The gang from Ocean’s 11 reunites to do another job, because Andy Garcia, the guy they ripped off from the first movie is really, really angry at them and wants them to give back the money they stole. “But your insurance paid for it!” is repeated a couple of times.

The gang ends up in Europe—first Amsterdam, then Paris, then Rome—pulling off fantastic heists and competing with another thief who goes by the handle the Night Fox. (Had to ask Darin what the name was. I’d already forgotten it.) The Night Fox dares them to steal a really well-protected treasure; if they succeed, he’ll pay off their debts, and if he succeeds, they have to admit he’s the best thief. Also, they have to go to jail.

Danny Ocean takes the bet. Much hilarity ensues.

Funniest line: “We can’t train a cat that fast.”

Most entertaining person in the movie: I am totally a Matt Damon fan now, and I cannot believe that I even typed those words. But he’s been so good in everything I’ve ever seen him in, and this is no exception. So, yeah, having Matt Damon in a movie is a total plus for me. Just in case you’re casting or anything.

Most disappointing person in the movie: What was Don Cheadle doing in this movie? I don’t mean, Why did he sign up for this movie even though they had nothing for him to do, because if that were the criteria, at least 9 of the 12 shouldn’t have signed on. No, I mean, “What is that verkakete accent?” Oy. Dude. Stop it already.

There was one aspect of this movie that Darin found, in his word, “odious.” It has to do with the big surprise in this film, so if you don’t know what that is or want to know, don’t read this next bit:

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The fawning attention to celebrities throughout the movie really, really annoyed Darin. And since the entire point of a movie like Ocean’s 12 is to watch celebrities, the movie is falling all over itself to say, Aren’t we special?

The major heist toward the end of the movie relies on the whole celebrity thing to an obnoxious degree. Since most of the gang ends up in jail, the remaining members have to come up with a new plan to steal the treasure. And since Danny Ocean’s wife is almost a dead ringer for Julia Roberts—

No, really. That’s the plan. Julia Roberts’ character imitates Julia Roberts. Of course, the first person she runs into in the Rome hotel she’s staying in is Bruce Willis, who decides to hang out with his old friend and attend the art exhibit with her.

So, we have movie stars playing regular people and movie stars playing movie stars, and somehow we’re not supposed to notice they’re all frickin’ movie stars or something.

Personally, it was clear to me that they got to that part in the script and said, “Well, how the fuck are they supposed to get into the museum?” and someone else said, “Well, how about if…” And after the fifteenth margarita that idea sounded hilarious.

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I’m not sure I can recommend this movie to anyone, especially if you haven’t seen or didn’t like Ocean’s 11. Ocean’s 12 is definitely not a good movie. But there are some quite hilarious bits in it, and I had a good time.

Darin really wanted me to see Kill Bill, Vols 1 and 2—I hadn’t had a lot of interest in them when they were out in theaters, mostly because I’m not as sanguine (heh) about on-screen violence as I used to be, and because I’d heard that several times during the movie a child watches their parent die in hideous and graphic ways. NO THANK YOU. Stuff that wouldn’t have fazed me for a second pre-Sophia makes me crazy and start crying now.

Darin saw both movies in the theaters and loved them, though. He said I wouldn’t be affected by the parent deaths in the way I thought I would be. “They’re the best kung fu movies ever,” he said.

“This does not mean a whole hell of a lot to me,” I told him.

He brought the movies home and we decided that we would actually spend some time together (instead of me writing (which I’ve been doing of late) and him playing World of Warcraft (major, major friggin’ time sink of his of late). We watched Vol. 1 Sunday night and while I did have a lot of problems with several scenes, I agreed that the movie was so over the top in so many ways that the scenes with children bothered me but not in the make-me-retch (no, really) way I was expecting. Then we sat down to watch Vol. 2 last night. Darin was right: definitely a different movie (several orders of magnitude fewer bodies, for one thing), though it’s clearly an integral part of the whole story. The way Tarantino jumps around in time is extremely clever and almost novelesque: there are lots of scenes you already know the outcome to, but you’re hooked wondering, How’s she gonna get out of this one? Really good filmmaking, I think.

So, we’re watching Vol. 2 last night and after four hours of mayhem, murder, confrontations, kung fu training, standoffs, and a blistering pace toward the inevitable, we’ve finally gotten to the big confrontation where the Bride is going to kill Bill (totally not a spoiler), and they’ve got their weapons out, and here it is, we’re going to find out —

The DVD machine dies.

Totally. Freaking. Dead.

I looked at Darin. He played with the remote control a little. Power-cycled the player a few times. Felt the box to see if it had overheated.

Dead.

“There’s, like, ten minutes left in the movie,” he said. “Do we have any other DVD players? Besides the computer?”

“I’m going to bed now,” I said.

I still don’t know how the movie ends. I guess I will have to break down and watch it on the computer (unless Darin is planning on replacing our DVD jukebox—capacity: 300; currently holds: about 200—soon). But I feel as though I should savor this feeling of suspension, forever trapped in the confrontation.

And lives up to his/her handle each and every day:

When O’Reilly declared that “overwhelmingly, America is Christian. And the holiday is a federal holiday honoring the philosopher Jesus,” all the Rude Pundit could wonder is where the fuck’s Plato’s holiday? Or Kierkegaard’s? Or perhaps John Locke’s, considering his influence on, say, the actual creation of the country? And on Christmas, when people are heading to work at Wal-Mart and Denny’s and all the other places that stay open so that Bill O’Reilly can have a merry Christmas, we’ll all be thankful that even more overwhelmingly, in this America, cash, not Christ, is king. Is that insulting enough to O’Reilly’s “majority”?

Those wacky Scandinavians are at it again! Ladies and gents, the Purple Sumo Hippo.

Was this advertising something? What is Kozo?

(Via Sarah)

I’m sitting here at the new Coffee Society at the Pruneyard (which replaces the former occupant of this spot, the somewhat run-down Campell Coffee Roasting Company) trying to do some writing, but my attention keeps getting stolen by the guy in front of the Camera 7 theater. He’s dressed as a Greek warrior — he has a silver helmet with plumage on top, a red cape down to his calves, sandals, a metal breastplate, a sword, a shield. I’m sure he’s supposed to be a Greek warrior, because on the shield is written ALEXANDER in Greekish letters. Periodically he holds out his sword and salutes passers-by and cars driving by him.

Not a job I’d want. It’s 60 degrees F out — he’s got to be a little cold. And who’s going to go see Alexander because some guy is dressed up as a Greek soldier? Who thought this one up?

Anyhow. Good to have Coffee Society here, with its cleaner lines and better coffee than the previous occupant. Parking was a bitch today, though — oh, that’s right, the shopping season has started, hasn’t it? Ah well. Back to work.