Bleh on "Entourage"
Even though it would behoove me most to be watching seasons 1 through 5 of "The Sopranos" right now, I'm thinking about how much I loathe "Entourage". The show, now on hiatus and poised for its third season, was acclaimed by Alessandra Stanley as the best TV show of 2004 and thoughtfully dismissed by Dana Stevens for its "four callow jerks." And, although this is an opinion typed a year behind schedule, I am in hearty agreement with Ms. Stevens.
First, a concession: The ur-Ari Gold--Ari Emanuel, interminable king of Endeavor--is amazing to watch work. Seeing him the few times I did in real-time, in the flesh, and in action, yours truly-- as a mailroom neophyte--was bowled over by his infinitely various renditions of the word "fuck", and how he attacked his phone calls with the vengeance and tenacity of a raging rodeo bull. My stories don't do the mythic Ari-ness justice because his legendariness is courtesy of Defamer, who poke the best kind of fun at Emanuel and his goat-ish glee. (Quite simply, it warms my heart that they expedite his HuffPo rants onto its pages in nano-seconds.) Their charming updates help restore, even in me, post-Hollywood amateur critic, Emanuel's insanely lavish, cut-throat-lined mythology. And Jeremy Piven takes the beast head on, portraying Emanuel's quick wit and knife-sharp tactics with precision. His scenes make up the icing that holds "Entourage"'s chalky, cakey substance together.
What gets me about the rest of "Entourage" is its vapid vacancy. I get that Vince is a hot star; I get that he has a posse; I'm even slightly interested in the fact that this has some backstory in Mark Wahlberg's life. But I find it frustrating that it reinforces every male stereotype that makes Hollywood--and men in general--as undreamy and repulsive as it sometimes is/they sometimes are. The poaching wars are wonderfully delectable to watch, but how many times do we have to linger over Vince having banged some hot one night-stand girl? And how can his erratic behavior with Mandy Moore (in those dreadful "Aqauman" episodes) be counterpoint to his mindless witlessness? Who cares if Turtle smokes up all the time? Do I really want Vince's brother to get an acting job? Is Eric's loyalty to Vince the only evidence of his bland mind-cum-heart of gold? Why should I care why these "fame... with friends" people stay together as a clan? And when, exactly, will these characters be dignified with a depth that hits you in the heart?
Some say, particularly those polled in Stevens's article, that the male-bonding is what keeps them watching. What's the deal with all this bonding-resonance in "Entourage"? Perhaps the best question: Is this the same phenomenon as "Sex and the City" but with Y chromosomes? Honestly, I don't know. For me, as an XX, "Sex and the City" always seemed to show relatable flaws, even if they were at the cash register at Manolos. There is something universally terrifying about romantic relationships that I think spoke to women who were watching the well-coiffed quartet; there also seemed to be dimensionality to the characters, a certain sense of honest failure that kept them somewhat human. Heartwarming, though sometimes sappy, I was repulsed -- even by its worst episodes -- so much less by the quartet of New York-ettes than I have been by HBO's Hollywood hoodlums. "Entourage," while showing the sins of temptation and the flaws that capitulate to them, features those temptations in the most simultaneously wonderful and inane of places (Hollywood) with characters whose existence lies solely on superficial overdrive. And it's tiresome.
I used to know some dudes who absolutely loved "Entourage." I would venture to guess, though, that it was because the show is an onanistic meditation on what they hoped to become -- i.e. agents and studio execs with hot, button-nosed accessories on their arms. And because it's the kind of thing Hollywood insiders love to pride themselves on having gone through, or being a part of. But the humor of all of this was redundant to me--and, I would guess, completely unrelatable for the people watching who don't know who Jim Wiatt is. So, here are my final two questions: Why couldn't this entourage be something more interesting than that? And why can't the writers take Dana Stevens's advice and aim for surprise, instead of rote Hollywood one night stands?
First, a concession: The ur-Ari Gold--Ari Emanuel, interminable king of Endeavor--is amazing to watch work. Seeing him the few times I did in real-time, in the flesh, and in action, yours truly-- as a mailroom neophyte--was bowled over by his infinitely various renditions of the word "fuck", and how he attacked his phone calls with the vengeance and tenacity of a raging rodeo bull. My stories don't do the mythic Ari-ness justice because his legendariness is courtesy of Defamer, who poke the best kind of fun at Emanuel and his goat-ish glee. (Quite simply, it warms my heart that they expedite his HuffPo rants onto its pages in nano-seconds.) Their charming updates help restore, even in me, post-Hollywood amateur critic, Emanuel's insanely lavish, cut-throat-lined mythology. And Jeremy Piven takes the beast head on, portraying Emanuel's quick wit and knife-sharp tactics with precision. His scenes make up the icing that holds "Entourage"'s chalky, cakey substance together.
What gets me about the rest of "Entourage" is its vapid vacancy. I get that Vince is a hot star; I get that he has a posse; I'm even slightly interested in the fact that this has some backstory in Mark Wahlberg's life. But I find it frustrating that it reinforces every male stereotype that makes Hollywood--and men in general--as undreamy and repulsive as it sometimes is/they sometimes are. The poaching wars are wonderfully delectable to watch, but how many times do we have to linger over Vince having banged some hot one night-stand girl? And how can his erratic behavior with Mandy Moore (in those dreadful "Aqauman" episodes) be counterpoint to his mindless witlessness? Who cares if Turtle smokes up all the time? Do I really want Vince's brother to get an acting job? Is Eric's loyalty to Vince the only evidence of his bland mind-cum-heart of gold? Why should I care why these "fame... with friends" people stay together as a clan? And when, exactly, will these characters be dignified with a depth that hits you in the heart?Some say, particularly those polled in Stevens's article, that the male-bonding is what keeps them watching. What's the deal with all this bonding-resonance in "Entourage"? Perhaps the best question: Is this the same phenomenon as "Sex and the City" but with Y chromosomes? Honestly, I don't know. For me, as an XX, "Sex and the City" always seemed to show relatable flaws, even if they were at the cash register at Manolos. There is something universally terrifying about romantic relationships that I think spoke to women who were watching the well-coiffed quartet; there also seemed to be dimensionality to the characters, a certain sense of honest failure that kept them somewhat human. Heartwarming, though sometimes sappy, I was repulsed -- even by its worst episodes -- so much less by the quartet of New York-ettes than I have been by HBO's Hollywood hoodlums. "Entourage," while showing the sins of temptation and the flaws that capitulate to them, features those temptations in the most simultaneously wonderful and inane of places (Hollywood) with characters whose existence lies solely on superficial overdrive. And it's tiresome.
I used to know some dudes who absolutely loved "Entourage." I would venture to guess, though, that it was because the show is an onanistic meditation on what they hoped to become -- i.e. agents and studio execs with hot, button-nosed accessories on their arms. And because it's the kind of thing Hollywood insiders love to pride themselves on having gone through, or being a part of. But the humor of all of this was redundant to me--and, I would guess, completely unrelatable for the people watching who don't know who Jim Wiatt is. So, here are my final two questions: Why couldn't this entourage be something more interesting than that? And why can't the writers take Dana Stevens's advice and aim for surprise, instead of rote Hollywood one night stands?
posted by Melissa at 11:39 AM
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