When people say ‘they don’t make them like they used to,’ these are the kinds of movies they’re talking about. To be honest, I could take or leave Ocean’s 12, but the bookends in the Steven Soderbergh-directed series are exquisitely engineered heist films. They’re like byzantine Rube Goldberg contraptions, but instead of ping pong balls, rubber bands, and dixie cups, there’s George Clooney, Brad Pitt, and Matt Damon. Clooney is aces as the ringleader and Pitt is wonderfully daffy as his constantly snacking right-hand man, but the beauty of these films (besides the twisty mechanics of the capers) is that every supporting character on the team gets not their chance to solo, they also are given three-dimensional characters. As the resident pickpocket, Damon is 24-karat deadpan gold. There’s not a single line in this trilogy he can’t undersell…and make sing.