Oceans Thirteen: DVD & Movie Review (2007) by Christopher Smith

The last time Danny Ocean and his hip crew of bumbling crooks took to the cineplex, it was in 2004's "Oceans Twelve," a self-conscious, self-indulgent heist movie you watched from the sidelines, looking in at all the A-list celebrities having a grand time being A-list celebrities while you yourself were stuck having a C- time.

Its plot had the distinction of being tertiary to everything else onscreen. It was weak and convoluted, with a numbing effect that was isolating. A sequel to 2001's entertaining "Ocean's Eleven," the film was fraternity filmmaking that featured mainstream actors snubbing their noses at mainstream moviemaking in a movie ironically targeted for the mainstream. Go figure.

But now, in director Steven Soderbergh's latest offering in the franchise, "Ocean's Thirteen," a renewed focus and sense of fun have returned to the proceedings.

Since the plot's many implausible intricacies don't matter as much as the film's breezy execution of them--if they did matter, the movie would be in trouble--we'll glaze over them. The movie begins with Elliott Gould's Reuben Tishkoff getting screwed out of a major hotel-casino deal by Willy Bank (Al Pacino, a fine addition to the cast), who is set to open the Strip's latest and most elaborate landmark in a matter of months.

Banks' deceit is so great, it gives Tishkoff a heart attack, with Danny Ocean (George Clooney) and his thieving friends (Brad Pitt, Matt Damon, Don Cheadle, Carl Reiner, and Bernie Mac among them) determined to right that wrong by nursing Tishkoff back to health.

To do so, they'll need to best Banks at his own game--or, in this case, his games. With the help of Bellagio owner Terry Benedict (Andy Garcia), who wants his hands on Banks' diamond collection, they will devise a scheme that will allow them to rig every game at Banks' hotel, with the idea being that if the man loses, say, half a billion dollars on opening night, Banks' own bank will go belly up.

What ensues doesn't have a lick of logic, but a good deal of it nevertheless is lively and fun--particularly in the interplay between Clooney and Pitt, who are so nicely paired and so comfortable completing each other's sentences, you half expect their next project to be a sequel to "Maurice." Better yet, Soderbergh doesn't try so hard to reignite that old Rat Pack feel. The cast has come into its own this time. They've grown so comfortable with their roles, none works overtime to be hip, which is one reason that "Ocean's Twelve" felt so self-aware.

With such a large cast, few are given the opportunity to leave a lasting impression, which remains a problem with the franchise. That said, Ellen Barkin does come through as a fetching minx who is Banks' second-in-command, and who is smitten by Damon in an amusing subplot.

Outshining her is Vegas itself, which looks sexy and intoxicating beyond reason. With the lighting dimmed and the air cooled, everyone has the opportunity to look pretty here, even the unpretty, which is the point of Sin City--and, in the end, the movie itself.

Grade: B-