Ocean’s Twelve’s promo tag read “Twelve is the new Eleven”.

Let’s pray Thirteen ain’t another Twelve, but then, who’s gonna go see it?

Ocean’s Twelve was the lame sequel to the pretty lame remake of Frank Sinatra’s Rat Pack ode, Ocean’s Eleven. Jump in the way-back machine or just turn on some 60’s swing and it’s not hard to understand why even a lightweight idea like robbing five Vegas casinos on New Years Eve was a blast with the likes of Frankie, Dino and Sammy.  Now jump to 2001 and you have the likes of Clooney, Pitt and Damon (do you see a problem here?) trying to recreate charisma that went out the door with Disco. But god bless George and director pal Steven Soderbergh’s big honking egos and little pointy heads... there just had to be a Twelve and in moviemaking, albeit it all feels like home moviemaking, Twelve was one too many.

The plot of “12” seems constructed by a group of Saturday Night Live writer’s on a beer binge, giddily brainstorming a load of crap as a goof on the network bosses. Clooney decided not just to phone it in, but to literally stay at home since much of the film was shot at his villa in Italy. I’m sure the cast/guests/pals invited to the filming, all on vacation from acting, had a grand time. Seems George and Steven read a few too many accounts about the Rat Pack just hanging out in Vegas, taking over the stage at the Sands and shooting a movie during their breaks. But guys, you forget... they were entertainers and key here, they were ENTERTAINING!

“Section Eight” (the cuter than cute moniker of Clooney’s and Soderbergh’s happily defunct production company) offers a production that feels like a forced family reunion where the only ones laughing are the ones telling the jokes. Where exactly does the inspiration come from to have Julia Robert’s character pretend to be an actress named, wait... Julia Roberts? Stunning. Andy Garcia comes off looking like a pompous jackass and Catherine Zeta Jones is mind-blowingly unbelievable as an inspector who has to unravel this mess. I can only think that the cast of Ocean’s Twelve must have remained in a state of numb inebriation in order to even remain friends with anyone who would put them on screen acting like such dolts.

Warning: Seeing Ocean’s Thirteen this summer may brand you as irreversibly gullible and incapable of making everyday entertainment decisions.