In theaters

OCEAN’S TWELVE, Directed by Steven Soderbergh, written by George Nolfi, 120 minutes, rated PG-13.

The new Steven Soderbergh movie, “Ocean’s Twelve,” a sequel to 2001’s superior “Ocean’s Eleven,” is a self-conscious, self-indulgent heist movie you watch from the sidelines, looking in at all the A-list celebrities having a grand time being A-list celebrities while you yourself are stuck having a C- time.

Its plot has the distinction of being tertiary to everything else onscreen. It’s weak and convoluted, with a numbing effect that’s isolating.

As directed by Soderbergh from a script by George Nolfi, this is fraternity filmmaking that features mainstream actors snubbing mainstream moviemaking in a film ironically targeted for the mainstream. Go figure.

It’s a big slumber party in Europe for them, a colossal bore in the States for us.

Since the plot’s many intricacies don’t matter – if they did, the movie would really be in trouble-we’ll glaze over them: Terry Benedict (Andy Garcia), owner of the Bellagio Hotel in Las Vegas, wants to reclaim from Danny Ocean (George Clooney) and his thieves (Brad Pitt, Matt Damon, Don Cheadle, Elliott Gould, Carl Reiner among them) the $160 million they stole from him in the last film.

Instead of going deeper into hiding or putting up a fight, as the Ocean’s 11 from the first film would have done, this Ocean and company inexplicably decide to pay Terry back. It doesn’t make a lick of sense, but there they are, plotting to steal other artifacts around the globe in an effort to get Terry back his cash – along with interest. It’s up to Catherine Zeta-Jones, one of the most expensively well-dressed detectives in history, to put an end to it all.

The movie isn’t without its pleasures – there’s a twist involving Julia Roberts as Danny’s girlfriend, Tess, that’s unexpected and fun, two unbilled cameos that do come as a surprise, and an acrobatic ballet through a sweeping minefield of laser beams that’s thrilling to watch. But mostly and unnecessarily, “Ocean’s Twelve” is unabashed celebrity stargazing, with Soderbergh again trying to reignite that old Rat Pack feel with a cast that’s working overtime to be hip.

Thing is, being hip isn’t something you can manufacture. It’s more than just the clothes one wears or the ride one drives – it’s an intangible extension of personality. Either you have it or you don’t.

Sinatra had it. Martin and Davis Jr. had it. They were the real thing.

But in “Ocean’s Twelve”? With the exception of Reiner, Gould, Bernie Mac and Cheadle – none of whom is given much screen time here – it’s all playacting. You get more than two dozen personalities crowding the screen with their pseudo-hipness, and the movie, in spite of all its high hip hopes, falls embarrassingly flat.

Grade: C-

On video and DVD

THE BOURNE SUPREMACY, Directed by Paul Greengrass, written by Tony Gilroy, based on the novel by Robert Ludlum, 109 minutes, rated PG-13.

Paul Greengrass’ espionage thriller, “The Bourne Supremacy,” is an old-school throwback jammed with jittery camerawork that’s as restless as the plot.

In it, the world is seemingly reduced to the size of a postage stamp, thus allowing the gun-toting characters to dart with ease around the globe. They trot among India, Russia, New York and Germany as if they were going down the street to the supermarket. It’s as if 9-11 never happened.

A sequel to 2002’s “The Bourne Identity,” the film is a decadent travelogue laced with murder, car chases, foot chases and betrayal. It has style – too much style, really – but its story is nicely constructed, it has a great cast and, if you can get beyond the annoyingly unsteady camerawork, it’s fun.

The film begins where “Identity” left off – on the lush beaches of Goa, India, where Matt Damon’s Jason Bourne, a former CIA assassin, is still struggling with amnesia.

Aided by his girlfriend, Marie (Franka Potente), Bourne is working to piece together the remnants of his shattered life when a new intrigue begins.

After being tracked down by a Russian assassin (Karl Urban), Bourne learns that he’s still wanted dead and, later, that he has been framed for killing two American CIA agents.

Now wanted by CIA powerhouse Pamela Landy (Joan Allen), who mounts a massive campaign to bring Bourne in, Bourne is on the run, driven by killer instincts he doesn’t fully understand but which are nevertheless assembling themselves in his fractured memory.

Loosely based on Robert Ludlum’s potboiling bestseller, the film wisely pulls in the reins on the author’s iron-horse prose without sacrificing the heady mood.

As Bourne, Damon gives a confident performance that’s never showy. He’s just right here, consistently believable, all inward confliction assailed by an outside world trying to undo him. Brian Cox is nicely greasy as CIA agent Ward Abbott, but it’s Allen’s sharp, quick-thinking performance as the conflicted Landy that gives “The Bourne Supremacy” the sense of urgency it needs to make it a thriller of note.

Grade: B

Christopher Smith is the Bangor Daily News film critic. His reviews appear Mondays and Fridays in Style, 5:30 p.m. Thursdays on WLBZ 2 Bangor and WCSH 6 Portland, and are archived at Rotten

Tomatoes.com. He may be reached at BDNFilm1@aol.com.