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Entourage (Seasons 1 and 2)
By
Published: Jan 01, 2006
Category:
Comedy
Entourage (Seasons 1 and 2)
“Television is not to watch,” Auberon Waugh said. “It is to appear on.”
This is my view as well. You look at a screen a dozen hours a day, the last thing you want to do at night is watch another screen. And yet it can’t be helped. ‘The Daily Show’, ‘The Colbert Report’— these shows help us stay sane. Oops, add ‘House.’ And ‘Law & Order.’
But there I must draw the line; if not, I might as well buy a Barcalounger and a lifetime supply of salsa.
Which is to say: I resisted ‘Entourage.’
It was pretty easy to resist. A posse of callow youth from Queens moves to Los Angeles, the better to sponge off the Friend Who Made It — that is, if being a disposable pretty boy in B-list movies is your idea of making it. But Vincent Chase is never seen at work. He seems to be on an endless vacation, going to parties and scoring chicks and smoking dope. Meanwhile, his pals are working him. Eric (“E”) capitalizes on their grade school friendship to become Vince’s manager. Johnnie, known as “Drama”, tries to revive his acting career, but as Vince’s older half-brother, is most useful as a breakfast cook. Rounding out the entourage is Turtle, who functions as a driver and house manager when not toking up or jerking off. The most interesting character is Vince’s agent, Ari Gold, who either suffers from Tourette’s or is just a nasty piece of work (or both).
My wife started watching ‘Entourage’ and, soon enough, she had a grand theory of a new style in television: shows like ‘House’ and ‘Entourage’ lure you in precisely because they’re built around characters who are mean and anti-social. Truth is a weapon for them. They never use a velvet globe when an iron fist is handy. We like these characters, she told me, because they give themselves permission to say anything. Authority? They don’t fear it. Confrontation? Bring it.
Yummy theory — who doesn’t like a little obnoxiousness now and then? So I watched a recent episode of ‘Entourage’. Then I went back and watched every episode from the just-ended season and the DVDs of seasons one and two. And I am here today, chastened, to say that ‘Entourage’ is the funniest, deadliest, most satisfying television I have watched in donkey’s years.
Is it shallow? No. It plumbs the depths of shallow, which, in a shallow culture like ours, is as deep as you need to go. That is, I don’t see Vincent as a weak pretty boy; I see him as naturally wise. He’s catnip to women, but he doesn’t lie to them. He’s detached — he cares about his career, but he’s generally indifferent to the outcome. He’s both in the world and not of it; he understands better than anyone that Hollywood is a game. His strategy is simply to enjoy it while it lasts.
Like my wife, I have a theory of the show: Vince is the Buddha, and his entourage is his sangha. He provides little teaching exercises that help them grow. He provides the same service for Ari Gold, who is forced, by Vince’s example, to go against his nature and tell the truth — to be a friend, not just a talent salesmen.
I’m taking the show seriously, as I think you will, if you surrender to it and, as we have done, watch three or four half-hour episodes a night. But the best way to sell you on it is probably to lean on the humor — which is considerable. For this is the fastest-paced show possible; the whip-smart dialogue cuts like a lash. (It’s HBO: R-rated TV — that is, in a calm moment.)
Ari Gold is the king of this banter. He’s the ultimate insider, possessor of all knowledge, and how best to use it to his advantage. To him, Eric is “Pizza Boy,” because his last job was managing a Sbarro’s in New York. Meetings end with Ari saying, “Let’s hug it out, bitch” — although sometimes he declines, explaining “I don’t want to draw wood.”
Ari’s relationship with Vince and Eric is nothing less than a comic tutorial on the inner workings on Hollywood. Although he’s only got an independent film to show for himself, Vince wants to be a serious actor — he’s not eager to be the hero of “Aquaman,” a surefire summer blockbuster. He’d rather play…Pablo Escobar, the drug lord. Ari sets him straight; the part will probably go to a white-bread, A-list star. Eric can’t comprehend that casting: How can that guy play a Hispanic?
Ari: Hilary Swank has a pussy, but she won an Oscar pretending she has a dick. That’s what actors do. They pretend.
Eric: All right, I got it. So what if he passes?
Ari: Then they go to Brad Pitt. He passes, they go to Keanu Reeves, and on down the list.
Eric: Where is Vince on that list?
Ari: He ain’t on the list.
Eric: Well, how do we get him on the list?
Ari: You do ‘Aquaman,’ you stupid fuck!
The boys are slow learners. Eric has an affair with Ari’s assistant. By Hollywood law, that forces Ari to fire her — and hire Lloyd, a gay man. (That brings him a different problem. As Ari says, “You fire a guy, you create a rival. You fire a woman, you create a housewife.”)
Vince buys Marlon Brando’s old house. But he still has no job. Now he needs “Aquaman.” Which now has a director: James Cameron. Who might not be willing to go to Sundance to see Vince’s low-budget movie.
These plot points, you see, are minute. But very important in the game. ‘Entourage’ moves as fast as tennis; the serves come in at 140 miles an hour. And, delightfully, they get smashed back. At the end of the just completed season, Vince fires Ari Gold. In real life, that episode ran on the very night of the Emmys — when Piven won the Best Supporting Actor award. Think he won’t be back in season four?
I’ll be watching. And if you let these DVDs into your house, so, I bet, will you.
To buy the DVD of ‘Entourage’ (Seasons 1 and 2) from Amazon.com, click here.
For the ‘Entourage’ website, click here.
