Ocean’s Thirteen is a razzle-dazzle caper movie with more razzle than dazzle.

There’s something extremely likeable about this version of the Ocean franchise. It could be the exceptionally loveable cast: Al Pacino plays the bad guy hotel owner - - -as arch a character as has ever run a movie hotel/casino. This time Mr. Pacino holds back nothing in his performance (as if he ever did) as he dons (no pun intended) a dyed reddish wig. Ellen Barkin plays his very sexy, but icy cold assistant. To me, Ms. Barkin is easily the hottest female on the screen no matter what age. I think it’s that crooked smile.  Or is it that peculiar squint of hers - - -although she looks just as hot wearing glasses - - even hotter! Her body is like liquid sex.  Or is it her way of speaking? I’d be glad to discuss it with her anytime in person. But I digress from the movie.

Elliot Gould is the guy who is wronged by Pacino and is the character that the extremely complicated caper is meant to avenge. Gould hasn’t been this loveable on screen since MASH.

Clooney, Pitt, Damon, Mac, Carl Reiner, all sweethearts! Even Andy Garcia, bad guy from other Ocean’s is ultimately endearing. And then Super Dave Osborne shows up as an FBI agent to win our hearts. Oops! I forgot. They even threw in Opra! So what’s wrong?

The setup is fairly good with Pacino causing Gould to loose the hotel. But how? By some extremely complex financial machinations that are glibly rattled off by Al. It was too much for me to understand, not coming from a real-estate development background, but I believed that Gould’s character understood.

Then the boys arrive to avenge Elliot’s onscreen heart attack. The task of screwing Pacino is virtually impossible. To accomplish their goal they have to pull not one caper but around thirteen. How they do it involves everything from changing the manufacture of dice in Mexico to using the European Chunnel drill to create an artificial earthquake in Las Vegas to cause a distraction. Everything they do is so fucking hi-tech that there is no way to understand what the fuck they’re talking about. One has to believe they’re all geniuses and we’re not. To make sure the audience buys it and never stops and says, “How much would an operation like this cost? D-day had to be cheaper!” The director Steven Soderberg, cuts through the entire second act like a buzz-saw using split screen techniques, loud sound effects and music, including lots of shots of hi-tech circuit boards, actors with false moustaches, references to Emilio Zapata and any other distraction away from reality that can be dreamed up. To me, this is a cheap and cheesy way to stage a caper. It makes me long for RIFFI or BIG DEAL ON MADONNA STREET.

The third act is ultimately satisfying and even understandable as Pacino becomes the big looser, Gould gets his revenge and Garcia not only doesn’t get what he wants (Pacino’s diamonds) but is tricked (by Clooney) into donating 72 million dollars to a boy’s camp - - - but Garcia gets to take credit for it on Opra’s show. The boys split up with Clooney telling Brad Pitt to think about settling down and having a lot of kids, an unvarnished reference to Brad and Angelina. Brad nods knowingly and shrugs.

Fade out.