Ocean's 13

So Danny Ocean and his gang are back, and I'm pleased to say that it's an amply satisfying reunion; the spark of Ocean's 11 isn't quite here, but, then again, it's a big step up from Twelve-- a film that I actually thought was fun, albeit a bit too smug, in spite of what critics and most audiences seemed to think of it. More and more, each new Ocean's flick strikes me as a sort of busman's holiday for George Clooney, Brad Pitt, and Steven Soderbergh-- guys who are capable of much better than this, but have more than earned the right to occasionally slum in glitzy popcorn fare like this, relying less on artistry than on craft and their own God-given charisma. Meanwhile, it's a lot of fun to see Don Cheadle in a kind of movie he doesn't get to do very often, and Bernie Mac in a movie that doesn't... um, suck.

As for the new cast members, Al Pacino is a great addition to the franchise, even if he never gets to hit the same kind of intensity he did in recent classics like Heat and The Insider. Ellen Barkin, meanwhile, is almost completely wasted, a smart actress who seems to serve no purpose here other than to flash some cleavage.

But, more often than not, it's smart, suave, and exceedingly cool entertainment, with typically dry and ironic humor. And only once does it stoop to something as self-referential as the infamous Julia Roberts bit from Twelve, and that's in the final scene; Pitt says to Clooney that he might try keeping the weight off between this film and the hypothetical next installment-- a reference to Syriana, I'm thinking-- and Clooney quips back that Pitt should settle down and have a few kids. I love it, smug and hiply ironic though it may be!