'Entourage': Unnerving enough even without all the boobies
I’d never seen an episode of Entourage until last night. There, I said it. It’s one of my pop-culture blind spots, but after watching the first two episodes debut on Spike (which is showing the series from the beginning, sans HBO-sanctioned nudity and cursing, on Tuesdays at 9 and 9:30 p.m. ET), now I see: I never want to be in an entourage.
After 12 years in entertainment journalism, and always hearing how realistic this show is, it’s not like I was surprised by anything I saw: It’s more that it was just depressing to see it acted out and confirmed. On the one hand, you gotta like Vince for trusting his friend Eric enough to turn down a $4 million offer because Eric thought the script sucked; on the other, you kinda hate him for not even bothering to read the script and form his own opinion. Vince not being at his agent’s beck and call is commendable, but handing the phone to Eric every time Ari dials? Grow a set of balls and deal with your own life.
And then there’s the girls. I get it: When guys have long periods of downtime and plenty of money, they’re gonna wanna party and meet women. But seeing each guy in a separate corner of the swimming pool, paired up with a girl he just met, Turtle not caring that his chick flat-out told him that she was holding out for Vince and then bargaining with her for a makeout session? Ewww.
Anyone else catch Entourage for the first time last night? What did you think? Do the guys get more likable, or will it always be the love-hate relationship with them that I’ve begun? Has the show turned anyone else off the idea of befriending an “It” actor? I get why the entourage works: The celeb wants to surround themselves with people they trust, and if those people are always going to be with them, they can’t work their own jobs, so the star has to give them a “job” and support them. Maybe it’s not a bad trade-off if your career doesn’t make you happy. But I think I’m just too selfish for that.
Photo credit: Claudette Barius/HBO