Ocean's Thirteen (2007)

Director: Steven Soderbergh

Cast: George Clooney, Brad Pitt, Matt Damon, Al Pacino

Have I Seen It Before: Oh, sure. Come to think of it, a bunch of college friends in that summer after we all graduated went to see it when we couldn’t get in for Transformers (2007). Even though we ended up with the better choice, I still felt the need to admonish the people lined up* who managed to get tickets before us for being too obsessed with robots that are also cars.

Did I Like It: Even though we ended up with the better choice, it’s hard to avoid viewing this as the weakest of the Ocean’s movies. I so admired Ocean’s Twelve (2004) for conscientiously avoiding the trappings of the sublime first movie in the series. But here we are now, back to creating mischief in a casino. The fact that they’re not trying to actually steal anything, and simply want to bring ruin to the most odious and powerful casino magnate in Nevada (Pacino, who we’ve apparently never heard of before in two previous films) doesn’t change enough to make this demonstrably feel like a re-tread.

The cast has also reached critical mass, which always seemed inevitable. Julia Roberts and Catherine Zeta-Jones disappear under cover a few quick lines of dialogue, as if their importance to the proceedings in the last two films was a mirage this whole time.

Now, that is a lot of complaining for a film that—for being the weakest entry in a trilogy—might very well be the best weakest entry of a trilogy ever made. The style is there. The fun is there. The misdirection is there. Asking for more might be a little greedy.

*God, it’s been so long since I’ve had to stand in line at a multiplex. I don’t miss it.

Ocean's Twelve (2004)

Director: Steven Soderbergh

Cast: George Clooney, Brad Pitt, Matt Damon, Catherine Zeta-Jones

Have I Seen it Before: Oh, sure. There was probably a minute there right after W. won re-election that this was the big thing I was looking forward to in life.

Did I Like It: The fundamental truth is that your mileage with film is going to be directly related to how much you can tolerate a third act that largely hinges on Julia Roberts playing someone who is trying to impersonate Julia Roberts. I’m not going to say it will depend on whether you like that plot development, because if you’re reading this review, you’re a reasonable person and that plot element isn’t going to work for you.

Now, if you can get over the film’s one, glaring flaw, it might very well be the superlative entry in the series. The plot—when it isn’t descending (and admitting it is doing so) into b-minus sitcom territory—surprises. The mise-en-scéne is also frequently a delightful surprise. Everyone would have accepted or at least forgiven if this sequel was just a cynical re-hash of Ocean’s Eleven (2001) (don’t worry, we’ll get there) but this plays out like a holiday tentpole movie that has all the trappings of a light foreign film that most of the audience would never see in the first place.

This is not to say that all of what worked in the first film is abandoned. The chemistry among the thieves and between Pitt and Zeta-Jones and Clooney and Roberts all crackles, and the old-fashioned movie-star cool exuded here is never not a pleasure to watch. Just as the way Clooney orders a double whiskey in the first film lives in my head rent free for the rest of time, so too have I never seen a movie star live so comfortably in his own skin than Clooney does in his final confrontation with Toulour (Vincent Cassel). Every time I see that scene, I am convinced that if I could ever be as comfortable as that man is at that moment, all the problems of my life would simply drift away. It was apparently filmed at Clooney’s own villa, so he very nearly wet method with feeling right at home in his surroundings.

If only they didn’t have to have the whole Julia Roberts is Julia Roberts thing, it might have gone down as one of the all-time greats.