Review: Oceans 8 Is Good, but It Could Have Been Great

Review: Oceans 8 Is Good, but It Could Have Been Great

Let me allay some fears right away: Oceans 8 is fun. The sequel (of sorts) to Steven Soderberghs thr..

Let me allay some fears right away: Oceans 8 is fun. The sequel (of sorts) to Steven Soderberghs three Oceans films, this time with a mostly female cast of smooth criminals, is a lark and a laugh, an airy caper featuring a bunch of actors you love and a lot of great clothes. Who can argue with that, in June or any other time of year? In that way, Oceans 8 is a worthy continuation of a hallowed brand. So, breathe a sigh of relief. Theres no disaster here, no regrettable misfire to be chagrined about. Phew.

That said, I do wish Oceans 8 were a little more than fun. Directed by Soderberghs friend and frequent collaborator Gary Ross, the film makes some gestures toward Soderberghs snappy visual and narrative style, his zooms and cuts and other syncopated rhythms. But theyre only gestures, loving but half-hearted. The movie looks fine but flat, which has the unfortunate (and unintentional, Id hope) effect of making it feel as though a mostly women-led Oceans movie doesnt deserve the same luxe finishings as Clooney and the boys. (Oceans Eleven was given a higher budget, 17 years ago, than Oceans 8 was now.)

Plot-wise, the movie lacks for any of the grander sleights of hand and logical leaps of the other Oceans movies. Mind you, very little in those films bears the weight of scrutiny, but at least they provided pleasingly intricate knots to pick through. Oceans 8, written by Ross and Olivia Milch, goes a simpler route, paring down the mechanics of its heist and fixing problems quickly and easily. Something about the film feels less thorough, less nourishing, as if it doesnt trust its audience to contend with something more complicated. Or it could just be that Ross and Milch have written a weaker script than whats come before. Either way, it feels dismayingly pointed that this Oceans movie, of all the Oceans movies, is the one that gets the more basic treatment.

So the film is certainly not without its faults. But many of them are covered up, in the moment anyway, by a sterling cast. Sandra Bullock, sardonic and cool with the faint hum of a sad secret, plays Debbie Ocean, sister to Danny Ocean and recent parolee. We eventually find out how she ended up in the clink, a backstory thats slightly, but not entirely satisfyingly, woven into the present. But mostly Debbies journey in the film is her assembling a team for a bold, fabulous bit of thievery involving a version of the real-life Met Gala and a diamond necklace bigger than my apartment. Bullock handles all this scheming with restrained humor, never sinking into the ring-a-ding smugness that often tainted the earlier Oceans movies.

Shes joined most closely by Cate Blanchett as Lou, a slinky Chrissy Hynde-type whos skeptical about Debbies plan but drawn in nonetheless. We sense an attraction there, perhaps the ghost of a past romance flickering between them, but the film doesnt explore that dynamic the way that, in theory, a more invested, and also more freewheeling, movie might. Still, we get a lot from Blanchetts lounge-lizard vibe, coy and pragmatic, as she does a lot of good leaning in a series of crisply tailored suits. We hope for an Oceans 9, if only so we can get to know a bit more about Lou.

The rest of the gang comes together swiftly: Mindy Kaling as a compromised jeweler, Rihanna as a weed-smoking computer hacker, Awkwafina as a caustic pickpocket, Sarah Paulson as some kind of merchandise-hoarding wholesale-goods fencer, and a birdish Helena Bonham Carter as a disgraced fashion designer in need of a quick payday. What a group! And when Oceans 8 lets its cast loose, the movie crackles and zings, becoming the clever, easygoing comedy weve long hoped it would be. I wish only that moments like that arose a bit more frequently in the film—or, you know, that that mood was sustained throughout. As is, Oceans 8 is more devoted to process than patter, more concerned with moving the story along than fleshing out and reveling in the world it hastily builds.

Also appearing in the movie is Anne Hathaway, playing swanning movie star Daphne Kluger, who will be wearing the sought-after necklace the night of the big job. Any further explanation of how Daphne fits into the story would be a spoiler (though you could count the number of actresses listed before Hathaway in this review and make a safe guess), but know that Hathaway is marvelous in the role. At first it seems shes just doing an easy bit of haughty imperiousness, but then she gradually infuses that caricature with richly amusing dashes of an almost kinky quirk. She has one scene in particular in which an entirely sexier, more dangerous version of the movie is conjured up—all done through Hathaways shifts in breath and bearing. The scene is almost too good for Oceans 8, while also proving vital to the films success. Hathaway is having a great time, and were eager to join her.

Theres a good deal of that happening here, a kind of projection that lets the movie we want Oceans 8 to be somehow stand in for the movie that Oceans 8 actually is. I left the theater thinking, I liked it! But the charge of the movie had mostly fizzled by the time I got to the subway. Fashionable and slick and capable of loopy wit, Rosss film offers up the trappings of what should make an Oceans movie sing. But it never hits the note fully. I hope the excellent cast wont be blamed for that, as the cast of the recent Ghostbusters remake was blamed for that movies failures. Because the problem lies more with the guy steering the ship, who does a competent job—again, the movie is fun!—but then figures his work done. These actresses deserve way more than that. If a sequels on the table, the cast should band together and demand equal Soderbergh for equal work.

Get Vanity Fairs HWD NewsletterSign up for essential industry and award news from Hollywood.Full ScreenPhotos:10 Decades of Glamorous Party Dresses on the Big ScreenRichard LawsonRichard Lawson is a columnist for Vanity Fair's Hollywood, reviewing film and television and covering entertainment news and gossip. He lives in New York City.

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