Ocean's Eleven (2001), dir. by Steven Soderbergh. I noticed that one of the film podcasts I follow, Eye of the Duck, is doing a miniseries on the Ocean films, which inspired the rewatch. It's just a good time at the movies, man, barring an unfortunate "Trump" jumpscare or two. The cast is charming as hell, the direction and editing are propulsive, and the twist has just enough foreshadowing to forestall complaints that the audience is being played as much as the mark. I love the way Soderbergh blocks the movie, as there's often little bits and pieces thrown into the margins of the frame which foreshadow upcoming events, but the focus is on something or someone else. In a way, that stylistic decision is the whole heist in microcosm, and I think it's neat that Soderbergh incorporates misdirection and attention manipulation into his visual language. Also, man, the color pallete of this movie is almost enough to make you forget that casinos are generally Eldritch nightmare locations full of sadness and cigarette smoke, rather than palaces of luxury. I've seen the sequels, but I don't remember much about them. I hope Julia Roberts' role gets beefed up, the script treats her like a trophy more than a character. 3.5/5.