WHY, OH WHY, OH WHY???



OCEAN'S 13 (PG)
reviewed by David Mahmoudieh at
the world premier in Cannes

What is it about the heavy-handed self-destruction of modern mainstream cinema that necessitates any remotely respectable/financially-successful film be ruined by two terrible sequels?

My newest body of evidence? Exhibit 13. Ocean’s 13 to be precise, by far the summer’s most contrived, hollow and implicitly manufactured cinematic sham going. Yes, come and bear witness to the wet cloth of yet another franchise being wrung out until it’s as high and dry as a Bellagio Martini.

Unfortunately these days – in addition to contempt – the friendly fiend of familiarity also breeds the guarantees of a healthy box-office taking. Consider that age-old equation of supply, equals demand, equals more supply and you suddenly see why the names involved in Soderbergh's latest ocean dive weren't about to pass bet on such a sure thing.

The problem I have, though, is that if they already knew – regardless of whether Ocean’s 13 was actually any good or not – that people would still go and watch it, they could have at least had the decency to give those paying patrons their money’s worth. Instead, all that’s on offer here is a derma of recycled jokes, skits and narratively chaotic editing jinks that think themselves far cleverer than they actually are.

What's worse is that these heist-masters are evidentially so desperate for new material they even resort to stealing one-liners from cult 80’s flicks. Garcia’s Benedict replies to the question, “Are you ready?” with the quip “I was born ready” – a word-for-word, breath-for-breath regurgitation from John Carpenter’s 1986 adventure epic Big Trouble In Little China. A bounteous reference? No. A rip-off? Absolutely.



The hopeless justification for a third film, gracelessly disguised as a plot, centres around Daniel Ocean’s (George Clooney's) quest for revenge against one Willie Bank (Al Pacino), a sleazy casino and hotel entrepreneur who recently put Ocean’s friend and accomplice Reuben Tishkoff (Elliott Gould) firmly in the infirmary. True to their ‘honour amongst thieves’ code, Ocean and his crew vow to take revenge on Bank on the night his new casino unlocks its doors for its celebrated grand opening. And yes, before long, cool clothes are shaking down Vegas sidewalks looking left, looking right and stopping flat still in front of us before they take their shades off. Are you bored yet? I was. Actually, make that "I was bored al-ready".

When it becomes apparent – and even more boring – that Ocean and his crew are somehow skint (God knows what they did with two films’ worth of loot) they enlist an old enemy of thy enemy, Terry Benedict (Andy Garcia), who funds their sabotage strategy, joining in for good measure. And that, my friends, is about as good as it gets.

Aesthetically, there can be no complaints: the cast are beautiful, the sets are beautiful, the sleek, glossy imagery – all beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. But who gives a flying salad-fork when the eye-candy becomes so tasteless it gives you ocular indigestion? With its useless nauseating montages and over-indulgent dialogue, there are moments you find yourself wondering whether they actually made a film or twelve individual moving portraits for the dozen A-listers all wanting their fair share of the screen’s pie.



As a long-time admirer of Steven Soderbergh and his work (Ocean’s Eleven, Traffic, Solaris, Sex Lies & Videotape) I can only assume that on this occasion the director was pressed firmly under the thumb of a cast and crew who all thought they knew better. For all he's given the world of cinema he deserves the benefit of the doubt. What he doesn't deserve is the hammy, half-hearted performances his over-paid and under-par actors provide him.

Every member of the returning cast (Pitt, Damon and Cheadle included) are ostensibly far too self-conscious of their characters’ invocations and what's expected of them, they play to those traits with way too much 'cool', swagger and artificial jest that it's almost cringe-worthily unwatchable. Even Al Pacino, the fine fable he is, can’t/can't be bothered to turn the tables and redeem the degradation. In fact, in parts – not that I blame him – it doesn’t look like he’s even trying.

So, to quote Reuben Tishkoff from the first film (hey, why not – they've ripped everyone else off) this is one “gaudy monstrosity” you’ll do well to steer clear of.

© David Mahmoudieh 2007