Bernie Mac

George Clooney is one, Brad Pitt is two, Matt Damon three... well, let's just assume there are 13 collaborators in this installment of Steven Soderbergh's profitable caper franchise. We're back in Las Vegas for Ocean's Thirteen, where the boys plot to shut down the brand-new venture of a backstabbing hotelier (Al Pacino) because the guy double-crossed the now-ailing Reuben (Elliott Gould). If you look at the plot too closely, the entire edifice collapses (hey, how about those Chunnel-digging giant drills?), but Soderbergh conjures up a visual style that swings like Bobby Darin at the Copa.

Bernie Mac is perfectly cast in Mr. 3000, a feel-good baseball comedy that capitalizes on Mac's established comedy persona. He plays Stan Ross, veteran first-baseman for the struggling Milwaukee Brewers, who quit the team during a pennant race and, nine years later, discovers that he's actually three hits short of his 3,000 career-hit claim to fame. When he attempts a comeback to correct his record, his selfish past returns to haunt him, along with a former flame (Angela Bassett, who deserves better roles) who's covering Stan's return to baseball for ESPN.

Like its predecessor Ocean's Eleven, Ocean's Twelve is a piffle of a caper, a preposterous plot given juice and vitality by a combination of movie star glamour and the exuberant filmmaking skill of director Steven Soderbergh (Out of Sight, The Limey).

Ocean's Eleven improves on 1960's Rat Pack original with supernova casting, a slickly updated plot, and Steven Soderbergh's graceful touch behind the camera. Soderbergh reportedly relished the opportunity "to make a movie that has no desire except to give pleasure from beginning to end," and he succeeds on those terms, blessed by the casting of George Clooney as Danny Ocean, the title role originated by Frank Sinatra.

Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle is a big, fun, bubble-brained mess of a movie, and that's exactly as it should be. Its popular 2000 predecessor got the formula right: gorgeous babes, throwaway plots, and as many current pop-cultural trends as you could stuff into a candy-coated dollop of Hollywood mayhem. This sequel goes one "better": The plot's even more disposable (if that's possible), the babes, cars, and fashions even more outlandish, and the stuntwork (heavily digital, heavily absurd) reaches astonishing heights of cartoon silliness.