The 2001 "Ocean's Eleven" remake was some ride. We watched George Clooney (!), Brad Pitt (!!), Matt Damon (!!!), James Cann's son (?!) and a host of Tinsel Town royalty, past and present, make robbing a casino look like the most effortless thing in the world. The glee was palpable to an easily hooked viewer like myself, who also happened to be a fan of director Steven Soderbergh.

Soderbergh — then a Hollywood-sanctioned auteur following an Oscar win for "Traffic" — and his all-star cast took obvious pleasure in wringing every ounce of enjoyment from their weightless material.

What a difference three years makes, because "Ocean's Twelve" could be the first heist movie in which a bona fide, show-stopping heist never actually occurs. It's akin to having, for instance, an outer-space epic without spaceships or a vampire picture devoid of bloodsucking.

Perhaps the best explanation for this glaring absence is provided by what's onscreen in its place — an expensive, gorgeously filmed home movie called "George Clooney's European Vacation, or How I Got Warner Bros. Executives to Fly My A-List Hollywood Friends Around the World Under the Pretence of Making a Hit Sequel," a far more befitting title than the hokey "Twelve."

"European Vacation" opens with Danny Ocean (Clooney) married to Tess (Julia Roberts), Rusty (Pitt) running a hotel chain and their former collaborators scattered about the world, doing their shtick and spending their earnings.

Things turn sour after Terry Benedict (Andy Garcia) visits each of the eleven, demanding his $160 million back, with interest.

The film's real antagonists, however, are two characters on opposite sides of the law: A pompous French millionaire and thief known as the "Night Fox" (Vincent Cassell) and Isabel Lahiri (Catherine Zeta-Jones), a beautiful Europol agent and Rusty's former flame.

What follows is a slew of hotel room conversations, foiled plots, backstabbing, more quibbling amongst the team, failed chemistry, poor wisecracks and, by the end, an awkward emotional reunion.

The plot mishmashes around European locales, sidestepping logic and coherence at every point. Soderbergh's wife, E! anchor Jules Asner, might as well have text messaged her husband the script before he called action.

There is a saving grace in the form of a late-occurring in-joke disguised as a plot element so bizarre and unexpected — although less so, in hindsight — that it almost redeems the lagging pace. Let's just say it takes Charlie Kaufman-like self-consciousness to new, solipsistic heights.

If "European Vacation" isn't much of a movie, one gets the sense it wasn't much of a vacation for Clooney and his pals, either.

At one point, in what could be a DVD behind-the-scenes clip, Clooney and Pitt share a bottle of wine and watch "Happy Days" translated in Italian, and the two look completely comfortable being away from the action. It's difficult to share the feeling.

Grade: C

This article appeared in The Marquette Tribune on Dec. 9 2004.