Ocean's Thirteen

I'll say this for the Ocean's films: They make you feel underdressed.

To put it mildly, this was a loose movie. Quips are traded, some hit, some thud to the carpet, scores are settled, cha-ching, and everyone looks awesome. While the reason for the gang's reunion, their mentor lies in a screwed by his ruthless partner-induced coma, reeked of "a very special episode," at least they're back in Vegas. I kind of saw it as the movie that Ocean's Eleven might have been, had that movie not been so much better than it should have been. This one definitely benefited from not having Julia Roberts storking around, ruining everybody's fun. Amazingly, Pacino keeps things at a simmer, mercifully sparing us the Hoo-ah. Seeing him and Ellen Barkin together again made me want to rewatch Sea of Love . The scene where Brad Pitt warns Pacino of the Vegas earthquake threat finally answers the question of what became of Floyd from True Romance , which is, of course, Pitt's greatest role ever: He sobered up and got his PhD in geology. Well, he got his PhD, anyway. And the Mexican dice factory strike subplot had me at "Peligroso es mi nombre medio."

Interestingly, if Ruben hadn't lived, it would have been the second time that Al Pacino killed Mo Green. (Idea for a great animated series: The Adventures of Young Ruben Tischkoff. No?)

I can't recommend paying ten bucks for it, but if you enjoy cinematograpy and production design for their own sake, and most of this film is absolutely gorgeous, see a matinee. Otherwise, rental.