In this third installment however the boys aren’t in the game for the business. No this time it’s personal. When one of their own the irascible Reuben (Elliott Gould) suffers a heart attack after being double-crossed by malevolent hotel mogul Willie Bank (Al Pacino) Danny (George Clooney) Rusty (Brad Pitt) Linus (Matt Damon) and the rest of the gang decide to hit Bank where it hurts. They orchestrate it so not only will they ruin the hotelier financially by turning the tables on the precept that the house always wins but also hurt Bank’s pride by giving his big new Las Vegas hotel a bad rating. The Ocean crew even manages to rope in their old nemesis Terry Benedict (Andy Garcia) on the scam since Benedict can’t stand Bank or the monstrosity he has built on the Strip. The plan is a bit convoluted and seemingly damn near impossible but the moral of the story is this: Mess with an Ocean you get pummeled by the waves. What has always made the Ocean's installments work is the freewheeling spirit and good-ol'-boy camaraderie from its eye-candy cast. Even though they are a bit more somber this time around--you know worried about Reuben and all--the actors are still clearly enjoying themselves. Clooney and Pitt continue to be the suave ringleaders finishing each other’s sentences and commiserating over the problems they are having with their respective spouses/girlfriends--which in turn explains why Tess (Julia Roberts) and Isabel (Catherine Zeta-Jones) aren’t in the movie. Basically this “isn’t their fight ” and they aren’t needed. Actually it’s Damon’s Linus who gets a love interest--sort of. The usually green Linus gets a chance to prove his mettle by donning a disguise (a big fake nose to be exact) and wooing Bank’s second-in-command the tough-as-nails Abigail Sponder as part of the plan. She’s played winningly by Ellen Barkin who fits right into this gentleman’s club. All the others are also in top form proving they could keep making these movies and we’d never get tired of watching them play. At this point in the Ocean's franchise director Steven Soderbergh’s work is pretty much done for him which is a good or bad thing depending on your perspective. The good part (and I’ve said this before) is Soderbergh definitely has one of the keenest eyes in the business and with Ocean's Thirteen he makes you feel like you’re coming home after spending the last movie floundering abroad. The guys are more at ease and the surroundings are comfortably familiar while the massive complicated suspend-your-disbelief undertaking crackles and zings as it's being put into motion. Soderbergh also uses the split-screen technique to great effect. The bad thing is we’ve seen it all before. Ocean's Thirteen doesn’t really offer anything particularly new as far as what we’ve come to expect and there are a few times Soderbergh seems to be phoning it in. But honestly is there anything wrong with that? Not really. Not with this great cast that is aging and gelling like fine wine bringing Sin City to its knees.
Eighteen-year-old Nick Powell (Justin Chatwin) has been for reasons too convoluted to go into left for dead. But his body’s still alive and his spirit – stuck in limbo – continues to interact with those around him desperately trying to communicate his existential plight before his body – hidden in a storm drain - expires. Being caught between life and death is probably a scary place but it’s likely more compelling than depicted here. The cause of Nick’s current dilemma is Annie Newton (Margarita Levieva) a juvenile delinquent and classmate of Nick’s whose troubled upbringing turned her into such a teen terror. Nick must try and compel Annie to locate his body but it takes an inordinate amount of time to do it during which the story – and the film as a whole - falls apart. After awhile it’s difficult to work up much sympathy to say nothing of any interest for what happens to these characters. Chatwin (Tom Cruise’s son in War of the Worlds) scores his first big-screen lead here and does about as well as can be expected under the circumstances which are fairly dire. With better material this might have been a decent showcase for his leading-man qualities. Better luck next time. Not nearly as fortunate is Levieva playing the prettiest leader of a high-school crime ring in recent memory. One minute she’s playing it tough and thrashing Nick within an inch of his life. The next she’s tearfully admonishing her little brother (Alex Ferris) not to make the same mistakes she made. It’s a terrible role and worse an inconsistent one. The biggest name in the cast Oscar winner Marcia Gay Harden plays Nick’s domineering mother. Like many of the roles in the film it’s strictly one-note. Still it’s nice having a pro like Harden on hand – even if the film goes out of its way to squander her talents. Only Callum Keith Rennie as the obligatory detective on the case manages to bring a little credibility to the proceedings. So naturally the film ignores him for long stretches. David S. Goyer is better known – and rightly so – for the films he’s written (Dark City Batman Begins and the Blade films) than the ones he’s directed (Blade: Trinity anyone?). But the true blame here falls on screenwriters Mick Davis and Christine Roum whose attempt to combine a supernatural storyline doused with teen angst fails miserably. At times The Invisible feels like leftovers from The Sixth Sense Ghost Jacob's Ladder The Butterfly Effect (yikes!) any number of Twilight Zone episodes and even Groundhog Day. The Invisible is based on a Swedish novel and a previous film but like the many Asian chillers that undergo an “Americanized” remake something has been lost in the translation – starting with credibility even on its own terms. So many movies undergo reshoots these days but rarely has an entire movie felt like a reshoot. The Invisible has that dubious distinction.