Early in Ocean's Eleven, there's a funny, throwaway moment that's very telling. In a Hollywood nightclub back room, Dusty, the character played by Brad Pitt—although it's something of a stretch to call Dusty a character, as most of the stars of this star-studded movie are basically appearing as idealized versions of themselves—is teaching a bunch of young Hollywood flavor-of-the-minute types, led by That 70s Show's Topher Grace, who actually is playing himself, how to not look like complete idiots at a card table. He's making some small progress when he's interrupted by his buddy Danny Ocean (George Clooney); the pair give these nerdy wannabes some lessons in cool, and the game breaks up and everyone leaves the club. Whereupon Grace is besieged by paparazzi and autograph hounds, while Brad Pitt and George Clooney step into the night, anonymous and unnoticed.

Like the Rat Pack movie that inspired it, this Ocean's Eleven is less a bona fide caper flick about a crew of pals making a big score than it is a picture about movie stars having a good time. The difference is, in this film, everyone involved makes sure that the audience gets to come along for the ride. (Watching the 1960 Ocean's Eleven, which was also shot in Vegas, you just know that Frankie, Dino, Sammy, et.al., were having a blast off the set—you can see on their faces how badly they want the cameras to stop rolling so they can get back to the fun.) The banter is droll and dry, the action is brisk, everybody looks great, and everybody gets to do a bit. If one gets the feeling that not a whole helluva lot is at stake here, well, it's not; director Steven Soderbergh, writer Ted Griffin, and their playmates (who also include Matt Damon, Don Cheadle, Elliott Gould, Andy Garcia, Carl Reiner, and Julia Roberts) are up to nothing more than an entertainment, and this is a very good one, one that wears its hipness loosely and doesn't overdo the charm. Beautifully shot by Soderbergh himself (who seems to get particular pleasure out of photographing Roberts—and who can blame him?), it's a relaxed foray into a fantasyland where crime not only pays, but is fun and morally justifiable. Well, ring-a-ding to that.'