Last year I reviewed Ocean’s Twelve, and came to the conclusion that it had been slightly harshly treated by critics — while not a patch on the first film, it was a decent enough heist romp. Now it’s the turn of last year’s threequel and, by contrast, I found it to be distinctly overrated.

In fact, I’d personally put Thirteen at about the same level as Twelve. The return to both a Las Vegas setting and the first’s glossy cinematography seem to have fooled many into thinking it’s more like Eleven, but the convoluted and over-long plot (needlessly complicated by some chronologically variable storytelling), relative lack of humour, over-abundance of under-used characters, and lacklustre finale belie the truth.

Thirteen is Twelve with Eleven’s sheen. Its critical success relative to its immediate predecessor is, I think, another of the gang’s expertly executed cons.