“”Oceans Eleven”” was released six years back as a one-of-a-kind caper flick – swanky, ritzy and with all sorts of class. But with “”Ocean’s Thirteen,”” the hip crew of heist-men has hit a mid-life crisis.
When funnyman Eddie Izzard – reprising his “”Ocean’s Twelve”” role with more snide chic – brands the smooth criminals as “”analog players in a digital world,”” it’s clear that there’s no such thing as timelessness, not even for the classical likes of George Clooney and Andy Garcia. How will the aging crew scam smarter villains, burglarize bigger vaults and thieve more money?
Two films after their inaugural con, the characters are back in Sin City, but have some major adjustments to iron out. After the gaudy Reuben Tishkoff (Elliott Gould) is backstabbed by the gaudier Willie Bank (Al Pacino), Ocean corrals his buddies for revenge. In their way stands “”Greco,”” an unparalleled bio-smart surveillance unit, casino bulldog Abigail Sponder (Ellen Barkin showing more tit than talent) and Bank himself, the most heartless Vegas old-timer to ever “”shake hands with Sinatra.””
With Ocean and Co. facing unprecedented odds, while still trying to cling to ageless ideals of honor, friendship and camaraderie, think of this latest theft jaunt as a coming-of-age story – instead for the 30- to 40-year-old crowd. It’s just too bad for “”Thirteen”” that nobody seems to act like an adult.
The pull for the “”Ocean’s”” franchise has always been its have-fun-while-filmmaking”” mantra. In the series’ first two entries, director Steven Soderbergh let loose on his set (check all the behind-the-scenes), capturing the suave of a buddy-buddy atmosphere that could only be birthed by Matt Damon, Brad Pitt and other high-line actors. Such genuineness made the million-dollar smiles brighter, pinstripes sexier and Julia Roberts more tolerable.
Now, Soderbergh seems resigned to letting a bloated cast run amok; original Ocean members Clooney and Pitt trade their screen-time with their bungling criminal castmates. And while a sweat-prone nerd (Eddie Jemison), shrimpy acrobat (Shaobo Qin) and prickly demolitionist (Don Cheadle) might seem like appealing characters, they show an achingly dull-headed regression.
Recognizably absent is a woman’s touch: Gone are Julia Roberts’ curves and snaps, bouncing sweetly off of Clooney’s boyish charms. One movie after, Catherine Zeta-Jones brought a high-browed respectability.
But now, it’s all become some kind of stag party – no estrogen and lots of gags – with Barkin spending her time groveled at Damon’s dick or Pacino’s feet. Props, not smarts, push the story. The film’s slapdash collection of plot-important props include a high-tech cell phone, an earthquake-inducing drill and an oversized nose (called a “”Brody,”” like some shameless kid named it as a schoolyard quip).
Don’t expect a vet like Pacino to rein in the silliness audiences saw begin to manifest in “”Ocean’s Twelve.”” Save for rare moments, especially when he discovers his maniacal plans have been foiled, Pacino disappointingly loses his razor-edge rage throughout the film.
In fact, there’s nothing that saves “”Ocean’s Thirteen,”” except its throwbacks. Standing in front of the Bellagio’s expansive pond – where “”Ocean’s Eleven”” ended on a reflectively heartening moment – Clooney and Pitt shine their classic smiles and recall their good ol’ days. But between their comic antics and childish exploits, these two characters are painfully past their time.
