Steven Soderbergh revitalises what could have been a jaded repeat of his previous two adventures in this highly watchable heist movie.
Ocean’s Eleven (2001) was a very entertaining reworking of Lewis Milestone’s 1960 casino heist story. Steven Soderbergh replaced the original rat pack of Frank Sinatra, Sammy Davis Junior, Dean Martin et al with Hollywood favourites George Clooney and Brad Pitt who became (if they weren’t already) the epitome of cool. The success of the film hinged on a good plot, stylishly executed.
Three years later Ocean’s Twelve played it safe and, although diverting enough, presented basically the same formula, with a more cumbersome plot. The excellent post-modern Julia Roberts impersonating Julia Roberts joke aside, you could be forgiven for leaving the cinema somewhat dejected. Would the next instalment of the Ocean’s films be nothing more than a weary re-hash of handsome and charming criminals outwitting yet another arrogant casino owner?
In Ocean’s Thirteen, Soderbergh injects some life into what threatened to become not the essence of cool, but the epitome of formulaic repetition. It opens with Reuben (Eliot Gould) seriously ill after the shock of being betrayed by his new business partner, the merciless Willie Bank (Al Pacino). Danny (Clooney) and his partners in crime resolve to avenge Ruben. Enter Eddie Izzard as a security expert (or to be precise, top notch breaking and entering consulant) who claims categorically that only an act of God can break Bank’s casino security system…..
Julia Roberts and Catherine Zeta-Jones are conspicuous by their absence (making it not strictly Ocean's Thirteen after all). Some may grumble that it therefore loses out through the lack of love interest. However this is far less important than the director’s careful choice of new characters. Izzard, originally a successful and loveably eccentric stand-up comedian in the UK, has genuine presence as a serious actor.
Ellen Barkin provides solid support as Bank’s cold-hearted PA, but it is Pacino who really shines. An actor of such calibre (who only has to open his mouth to steal every scene he is in) has no trouble making us hate him. He communicates Bank’s monster ego and lack of compassion with a finesse and ease that is simply a pleasure to watch.
The audience has the best of both worlds: the same great plot and style of Eleven, mixed with some much needed heavyweight acting (and genuine belly laughs). Nobody ever went to see any of the Ocean’s films expecting Hamlet. However, style without substance has a very short shelf-life and realising this, Soderbergh has brought us his best adventure yet.
