In 1995, Heat lured theatergoers by pairing Robert De Niro and Al Pacino as antagonists to create a “must see” movie event, a better-than-average film highlighted with a great café confrontation scene. 6 years later, we get another pairing of former Godfather stars, with De Niro and the legendary Marlon Brando.

Since word is out that fattened primadonna Brando is well past his prime (and doesn't give a shit), the producers of The Score added one of the better young working actors: Edward Norton (American History X). Besides, Brando will only appear in cameo roles and insists on camera shots that attempt to mask his massive girth.

But the acting cast gives The Score its gimmick—with three separate generations of great actors (or at least actors who were great when in their prime). The box-office receipts will determine whether this proves to be profitable.

Artistically, The Score establishes itself as a better-than-average heist movie with a scheme so convoluted and complicated that the plot seems derived from an old Mission: Impossible story. Who would have thought director Frank Oz could handle the egos of this cast and pull together a rather noir film like this, when the most complex and dark project he'd been involved with was The Great Muppet Caper?

Lest people think this is Oz's first time directing, he has directed a few comedies—What About Bob?, Bowfinger, and In and Out.

One major positive rests with the location shooting in Montreal, a beautiful city that has rarely served as a setting in major Hollywood films. Here, the high cathedral ceilings, cobblestone streets, darkened jazz clubs, and the government buildings of old Montreal serve The Score well. As a plot device, Montreal makes a logical, friendly choice for professional thieves who prefer to pull off their jobs in foreign countries.

But fresh locales do not necessarily make for stories that involve the audience emotionally (especially when the characters play their cards so close to the vest), and The Score feels like regurgitated old news we’ve seen before.

The parts are in place—Nick Wells (De Niro) just wants to settle down in his adopted Montreal with his girlfriend, Diane (Angela Bassett), and manage his jazz club, but Max Baron (Brando) insists Wells take on one last heist in Montreal, violating their long-held principle of never pulling a job in their hometown.

He claims he has secured an insider who poses as a part-time, mildly retarded, palsied janitor at the Custom House, and that the janitor will give them access to a priceless bejeweled scepter. Norton plays this contact, named Jackie Teller, known as Brian by his Custom House co-workers.

Even though Wells' motivation makes the most sense, De Niro appears more tired physically than he does emotionally from pulling off his safe-cracking schemes, and his scenes with Diane feel more perfunctory than real.

Had the screenwriters given Bassett more to do, she might have been able to arouse De Niro from his dreariness, but she only has one real scene—the predictable “Why didn't you tell me you weren’t ready to commit?” moment. We don't get to know much more about De Niro than that he is a supremely professional thief and only pulls off sure things. It makes us wonder why he'd agree to such a risky operation with an unknown partner on his home turf.

Norton gets the flashiest parts, reminiscent of his schizoid Primal Fear role (perhaps aided by Oz agreeing to let him write some of his own scenes), since he plays the impatient, smart, young punk looking to make his mark within the inner sanctum of world-class heist artists.

He also gets to twist his face and walk like a cerebral palsy victim to get the second-most chuckles—first place in that category goes to a small-but-essential part by computer hack Stephen (Jamie Harrold), who simultaneously multitasks war-gaming and code-breaking from his basement cyber-kingdom.

That leaves us with Baron, the underground ruler with the contacts to turn the stolen riches into cash. Why would a man with such a comfortable lifestyle insist on risking the complicated local heist?

The answer comes late in The Score, with the rotund Brando hiding out in his unfinished basement Jacuzzi in a scene that only creates more questions. Why this room, and who the hell is Teddy Salida?

Again, there are strong suspicions Brando wants to work in the shadows, where he can attempt to hide his waistline beneath suit jackets, but he can't hide his shortness of breath when he has to take more than two steps to cross a room.

Part of the fun is watching and listening to Brando parody his slurred speech and create yet another character that looks and sounds like—Marlon Brando.

Overall, The Score is decent summer fare that respects our intelligence far more than the teensploitation films topping the box office. True to form, the American audience has risen to the occasion to let Hollywood know that its movie taste for the opening weekend gives a box-office edge to Legally Blonde over Frank Oz's heist movie. Don't expect a deluge of adult movie fare in future summers. Too bad Paramount didn't budget more money for a script that would flesh out the characters to turn a competent thriller into a really excellent film.