Verdict: Blockbusters that come in threes usually wear out their welcome by the time they hit you up that third go-round. And in Twelve, the smug, we're-just-having-fun-and-you-lucky-people-get-to-watch-us-be-glamorous-while-we-do-it was negatively compounded by a plot that made no sense. But this time, they went back to Vegas and made a fun heist movie again. It's totally in love with itself, of course, one that would hog the mirror from now until the sun froze if you let it (sort of the cinematic version of the popular kids in high school putting on a show). But you end up not holding that against it. That said, before the last couple of scenes the major plot wrapped up. Indeed, Clooney and Pitt decide to spend the last moments of the movie getting into a winking-at-the-camera contest by goofing on their own offscreen lives. It's dumb!