Ocean's Thirteen

365 Films

Entry #111

Ocean’s Thirteen (2007)

Directed by Steven Soderbergh

Attempting a trilogy is hard enough.  Trying to mount a third installment when the second was universally derided has to be a task of herculean proportion.  Luckily, Ocean’s Thirteen manages to strip the plot back to the basic while packing in plenty of the heist movie absurdity the previous two entries cracked so successfully.  On the other hand, I remember something very strange happening when Ocean’s Thirteen was released in the summer of 2007.  The tide of cultural engagement with the film had receded significantly.  When the first film came out only six years prior, it seemed to hit a sweet spot in terms of its coolness cache.  But in the meantime, a new kind of comedy had burrowed its way into the brain stems of the American viewer and all of a sudden, the non gross-out-different kind of bro-tastic adventures of the Ocean crew seemed stale and warmed over.  As an ardent non-admirer of the Apatow/McKay/Phillips frat comedies, this was a most appalling development.  I remember rolling my eyes with contempt whenever a co-worker would dismissively mock the absurd concept behind the very idea of Ocean’s Thirteen.  Looking back on it, I probably should have focused my energies to more positive ends.  But at the same time, the film most assuredly speaks for itself and never needed me to come to its aid.  In returning to Las Vegas for the final go-round, the gang finds themselves plotting a revenge heist against Al Pacino’s Willy Bank and his gaudy monstrosity of a casino.  Bank has cut Reuben (Elliott Gould) out of a proposed business venture while also leaving him in the hospital due to a serious heart attack.  Right from the beginning, we see that Mr. Soderbergh and his writers seemed to have taken some of the criticism from Twelve to heart and grounded this episode in at least a facsimile of genuine human emotion.  That being said, the film consistently rails against pretty much all of the rules laid down by the precedent of past trilogies.  I can’t think of any other mainstream comedy that would invest so much visual wit into a seemingly throwaway gag involving a completely unnecessary worker’s revolt at the die factory in Mexico and have it pay off so beautifully.  It’s as if when the narrative foundation was decided to be as old fashioned as what Thirteen eventually plays out, Mr. Soderbergh’s boundless visual imagination went to work and while it may not be as experimental as the second installment, the pacing is decidedly much more precise.  By keeping the visual momentum constantly on the go via zooms, dolly tracking shots, pans, and steadicam, Mr. Soderbergh allows the few moments of quiet contemplation to burst forth in a most unobtrusive style.  While remarking upon a bygone era of Vegas class and showmanship, the film is almost an elegy to itself.  As if the people behind and in front of the camera knew the party eventually had to stop sometime.  I wouldn’t go so far as to say it’s emotionally complex or anything but there’s a definite sting of melancholy to these proceedings that very few other films of its type would even dare to try.  This is merely one aspect of the myriad of subversions Mr. Soderberg tosses into the mix in his admirable quest to surprise us.  His Ocean’s trilogy may not have been the cinema of monumental, groundbreaking, or eloquent importance.  But they are the successful, collective achievements of a team trying to make grace and elegance not only hip again, but invigorating as well.  Job well done.