Ocean's Thirteen: B+

Who knew there were actually parts of Ocean's Twelve worth salvaging? I certainly didn't. Imagine my surprise then to find that here, in Ocean's Thirteen, there are more than a few similarities between it and its predecessor. Imagine still how I felt when I discovered that the parts that were kept, saved really from celluloid hell, were in fact some of the worst of the franchise; clear as day in Ocean's Thirteen are the egregious plot holes and an impermeable air of self-satisfaction. Still, nearly half-way through my latest Ocean's viewing experience something clicked: this latest foray of Soderbergh & Gang is indeed smug, but it is also a sparkling and smarmy contraption - something its predecessor definitely wasn't.

The most prominent thing going for the movie is its reinvigorating return to the slick plot formula of the first in this series of three: take someone's money (that someone preferably being a very very bad man) and in the process make that person very very mad. An addendum to that, one known but never spoken of course, is to always look great (and suave and chill under pressure) while doing it. To these ends Ocean's Thirteen does very well. The big name stars - Clooney, Pitt, Damon, Pacino - still ooze irresistible appeal and as they go tromping around the glitzy sin-playground that is a Vegas casino, their fey put-ons in full storm, the audience collectively sighs: this is the film Ocean's Twelve should have been.

The set-up this time? Danny Ocean (George Clooney) and his crew are out to out-fox Willie Bank (Al Pacino) after he screwed Reuben (Elliot Gould). They have devised a variety of means of accomplishing this - some are killer smooth in their simplicity while others are almost cruelly witty in their devilish effect - but their real goal, indeed the true goal of all three films, is to assure themselves that their friendships are merely the extension of their thievish tendencies...or vice-versa. You see, male-male camraderie is something these men's men shy away from and yet in that very act, accomplish. Oh the hilarity! Oh the subtle ironic commentary! Oh oh oh!

So sure the film is alittle heavy-handed in its jokes and its one-liners lack the impossibly cool zing! of the original's, but Ocean's Thirteen is still one nicely enjoyable romp; a sly comedy of metrosexual manners. The comedy however does fail. Luckily the cast never does.

After all these years George Clooney still has that killer twinkle of personality while Brad Pitt, doing a riff on the cold-headed right-hand man, proves at last he is one versatile - and heck, talented - actor and Matt Damon tosses off his lines with the nervy twitch of an older Seth Cohen...which of course is a good thing. Around all of this action, director Steven Soderbergh's camera zooms. Sometimes in casual grand swoop, others in grainy hand-held intimacy. What effect on the action does this have? As always, Soderbergh's style gives the audience a heightened connection with the stuff going down on screen.

Ocean's Thirteen is a leaden production at times and poorly-paced at others but it has re-found its spark, its saucy smirk of sly smarts, that once made these movies such a great time (credit is due here, I think, to writers Brian Koppelman & David Levien). It isn't high art, or even really a very good movie, but in its jazzy, elegant, and stylish rhythms it is one helluva good time.