Oceans 8

I fucking love a good heist movie. I like playing along, second-guessing, being surprised, and all that shit. Heist movies are like Christmas morning for me because I get so excited and anxious with the suspense and mystery of what I’m about to unwrap. Then, bam! I’m heartbroken, disappointed that I got all worked up for nothing. Santa gave me a spool that only fits my dad’s fishing reel and socks three sizes too small and with bloodstains.

Oceans 8, an all-female cast entry into Steven Soderbergh’s Ocean flicks series, is those God damn socks. So many possibilities, only to unwrap disappointment.

A good heist movie shouldn’t be hard to make. The rules for success are more obvious than most genres. Rule #1, the actual crime has to be clever, fun and make sense. The twists have to be smart enough to keep one step ahead of the audience without ever resorting to illogical twists or plot holes. Think Quick Change and The Lavender Hill Mob for great examples.

Rule #2, the people pulling off the heist have to be likeable, or at least interesting enough that you give a shit what they’re doing. That’s not to say they have to be perfect, just less fucked up than whoever they are ripping off. Or, if they are more fucked up, it better be in a hell of an entertaining way.

A lot of heist movies get bogged down trying too damn hard to make the thieves sympathetic. Like that shitty Sunshine Boys remake, or any of the others where someone robs the bank who bankrupted the family farm. I don’t want the crooks to be saps, or even deserving. I want them to represent my fantasies. To be the guy who isn’t a scared little prick and takes a shot when he has the opportunity.

Rule #3, the crooks’ reasons for the heist have to be compelling. I didn’t root for the Harelip when she tried to steal the jar of pickled eggs from the Arvada Tavern, even though her plan was elaborate and made sense -- it included a mannequin, a bomb threat, a live raccoon and a tampon -- because she just wanted them to throw at me. I decided not to help her. Sadly, when Sue the bartender found out why the Harelip wanted the eggs, she just let her have them, which meant I got hit hard, a raccoon shit on the pool table and the fire department busted up the phone booth.

Rule #4, be brisk. Don’t mire an audience in details. Details are for people who read fine print, like lawyers and engineers, and not the rest of us who would rather give away all expectations of privacy and be subjected to infinite scams than read web site terms and conditions. Look, my social security number might be spread across the dark web like Nutella, but at least I can watch porn whenever I want, except a few times a week when ransomware locks up my computer.

Oceans 8 is polished and refined, glossy like those two-inch thick fashion magazines full of crap nobody ever wears. That shit is a circle jerk for people who give a rat’s ass what other people’s shoes cost. I prefer Mrs. Filthy’s fashion sense, which consists mostly of housedresses with hidden pockets advertised in Parade magazine, or underwear from bins with 75% off signs above them. That’s way sexier than lingerie made of mylar and fur.

Uppity magazines are where this movie lives. Oceans 8 takes place in the world of high fashion and precious gems, and the robbery is of some very rare diamonds during the Met Gala, a snooty charity ball at New York’s Metropolitan Museum. A lot of time is spent pretending this is an episode of Extra, with red carpets glimpses of celebrities wearing fancy clothes.

Sandra Bullock plays Debbie Ocean, sister to Danny, played by George Clooney in the increasingly crappy Oceans 11, 12 and 13 flicks. Like him, she’s a con artist. When the movie starts she’s bullshitting her way out of prison, where she’s been for five years after getting framed by a boyfriend (Richard Armitage). All that time behind bars has given her time to plot a scheme: to steal a $150 million-dollar necklace with the help of her friends.

The friends are big-ass stars like Cate Blanchett, Mindy Kaling, Sarah Paulson, Rihanna, Helena Bonham Carter and someone named Awkwafina. Apparently Duhsawni, Poe-lande Spareengs and Wohlmarte Grate Valiew were not available. Each of the ladies has a standard role on the heist team; mastermind, fence, logistics, hacker, jewel expert and sleight of hand, and each dutifully performs her role.

Which is one of the fucking problems. Everything is dutiful, clockwork even. The heist isn’t that much fun (Rule #1) because it’s more interested in squeezing in cameos and fancy dresses than in action. There are few reversals or twists, just a shit load of details and planning. It feels mostly thorough, but also tedious to sit through every step of the heist rather than focus on the fun ones. Even then, there are holes and excuses where the screenwriters (Gary Ross [director too] and Olivia Milch) couldn’t be bothered to be clever, such as how they would unload these rare gems, or create replicas, or convince a vain celebrity to hire a washed-up designer. It’s like hearing a teenager lie: a mix of too much detail on some things and glossing over others. There is very little tension and few chances for the crooks to be quick on their feet because everything goes according to plan.

The characters aren’t fleshed out or interesting (Rule #2). The movie gives them almost no air to be unique because it’s so busy going through the motions in fancy clothes and hip warehouse apartments. Mastermind Debbie is doing this heist because it’s what she does, and also to get revenge on her ex-boyfriend. But, the movie expects us to care about her because she’s someone’s brother, not because she is herself an interesting person. That left me with a shitload of time to ponder exactly how much makeup Bullock was wearing. Her face is like a freshly sanded drywall joint where any cracks, lines and features have been filled in and sanded smooth.

Of the others, their reasons for the robbery are because they stupidly squandered a fortune, they are bored, and they just want a lot of money (rule #3). Only Anne Hathaway as a movie star who wants in on the heist seems to be having fun. Their skills are specific to their job, and their personalities hardly expand beyond that. So, why do we want these people to steal this gem? It’s just assumed. The victim is a faceless corporation that doesn’t even deserve getting robbed.

The only place where Oceans 8 sort of succeeds is Rule #4, but not in its final act. Since the heist goes so smoothly, it’s done with 20 minutes to spare. It is revealed, for no good reason, that Debbie actually stole a lot more gems without telling most of her team. Why doesn’t she tell them until after the heist? And, why tell them now and share the money? What the fuck kind of crook is she? Also, Rob Corden enters as an insurance investigator trying to find the missing jewels. It’s too late. The movie would have been a shitload better if he had been tipped off early and got involved before the heist. Then, there would be a foil and an obstacle for the women to overcome.

As it is, though, the only obstacle they have is my boredom. Clockwork bores me. Two Fingers for Oceans 8.