The More the Merrier

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Revenge may be a dish best served cold. Just ask Danny Ocean and his pals.

But there’s a difference between cold and cool — and it’s a distinction "Ocean’s Thirteen" doesn’t always recognize.

Oh, this latest "Ocean’s" voyage strives mightily to be ultra-cool — without seeming to try, naturally. Otherwise, what would be the point?

Fortunately, the lazy smugness that sank 2004’s jet-setting "Ocean’s Twelve" has been deep-sixed. Not so fortunately, nothing much has replaced it.

Which leaves us with what distinguished (and we use the term loosely) the 2001 remake of the original 1960 Rat Pack romp: the easy camaraderie and roguish charm of its all-star cast, led by George Clooney, Brad Pitt and Matt Damon, and the filmmaking savvy of its almost-slumming director, "Traffic" Oscar-winner Steven Soderbergh.

And, of course, there’s Vegas, which once again provides an ideal backdrop for the gang’s machinations.

As Frank Sinatra sings in "This Town," the new caper’s unofficial theme song, "This town is a make-you town, or a break-you town … ."

Except that, in "Ocean’s Thirteen," it’s both.

Especially for the gang’s beloved mentor, Reuben Tishkoff (Elliott Gould), who’s about to score his biggest triumph — albeit in partnership with casino mogul Willy Bank (Al Pacino, barely breaking a sweat).

Together, they’re about to open the Strip’s latest, greatest, megaresort, the Midas.

On paper, wily Willy and old-school Reuben make a good team.

They both remember the good old days. Reuben also remembers what those days meant. The megalomaniacal Willy, however, doesn’t live by old-fashioned codes of honor — and proves it by betraying Reuben and seizing control of the towering casino he egotistically redubs The Bank.

All of which breaks Reuben’s heart — literally, triggering a myocardial infarction that leaves him near death.

But there’s honor among thieves, as Danny (Clooney, oozing that trademark laid-back Georgeness) and trusty Rusty Ryan (Pitt, in deadpan man-of-action mode) rush to the rescue, rounding up the usual suspects: boyish Linus Caldwell (the amusingly anxious Damon), still trying to live up to the legend of his father, plus brash Basher Tarr (Don Cheadle, who’s finally canned the painfully fakey Cockney accent), bickering brothers Turk (Scott Caan) and Virgil (Casey Affleck) Malloy, quick-witted Frank Catton (Bernie Mac), ever-flexible Yen (Shaobo Qin), seen-it-all Saul Bloom (Carl Reiner) and goofy Livingston Dell (Eddie Jemison).

Being gentlemen thieves, they give Willy a chance to make it up to Reuben before they get even. Being Willy, he refuses. Which clears the decks (and their consciences, if they have any) to break The Bank, and Willy along with it.

To do so, however, they’ll need more than their original 11.

No. 12 is criminal mastermind Roman Nagel (the nimble Eddie Izzard), a whiz at neutralizing even the most advanced electronic devices protecting Willy’s gaming operations.

No. 13? None other than that other casino king, the smoothly ruthless Terry Benedict (Andy Garcia). True, he doesn’t much care for Danny and his pals. (If you saw "Ocean’s Eleven" and "Twelve," you know how much.) But Terry hates Willy even more. After all, Willy’s new Bank casts a shadow over the pool at Terry’s casino. And we all know how much Terry hates being in the shadows.

Thus the stage is set for another intricate scam, one involving all sorts of double- and triple-crosses, guises and disguises, as The Bank counts down to its grand opening and Ocean’s gang shifts into high gear.

Among those caught up in the action: a hapless hotel guest (David Paymer, typecast but on the money) and Bank’s crisp assistant, Abigail Sponder (Ellen Barkin, channeling Angie Dickinson — when she’s not showing off her own unique comic timing).

Each gets his (or, in Barkin’s case, her) solo in the spotlight, but screenwriters Brian Koppelman and David Levien (who also scripted Damon’s 1998 poker drama "Rounders") stick pretty close to the original "Ocean’s" blueprint, concentrating on the intricacies of the job and the rituals of male bonding. (For us locals, there’s a poignant stroll past Bellagio, during which Danny and Rusty reminisce about the glory days of the Dunes, the Desert Inn and other legendary, long-gone casinos and everything they symbolized.)

If you’re so inclined, you can follow the movie’s twists and turns — sort of. Not that it matters much. Director Soderbergh is far more interested in the mood than the moves, concentrating on the sizzle of his snazzy camerawork and editing, the pop of the movie’s opulently outlandish casino environment (a make-believe megaresort created on a soundstage by production designer Philip Messina) and the jazzy beat of David Holmes’ ring-a-ding musical score.

It’s all breezy and busy and fizzy — and destined to remain in your brain for about as long as it takes to watch.