Maybe I’m not the audience for Entourage. I’ve seen very little of the show – snippets here and there of the later seasons that my wife forced herself to sit through, presumably out of completist compulsion. So I had no sense of good will towards movie star Vince (Adrian Grenier), his agent Ari Gold (Jeremy Piven), nor any of his self-obsessed douchebag friends (Kevin Connolly, Kevin Dillon, Jerry Ferrara).
But it’s hard to imagine even eight seasons with these loathsome losers would’ve left any lingering positivity, any purpose behind the expensive sets, the famous cameos, the bevy of undressed ladies. The film’s awkward episodic narrative lacks any real tension or momentum – oh no, Johnny Drama’s scenes might be cut is about the sum of it – so we’re inexplicably expected to enjoy the rise and rise of these over-privileged, over-sexed subhumans.
The film’s futility is brought into sharp focus when you consider its antagonist, one Travis McCredle (Haley Joel Osment). He’s the heir to a Texas fortune. He’s brash, entitled and boorish. We are expected to regard him with derision for these qualities, and yet the fact that our supposed ‘heroes’ are just as bad somehow escaped the screenwriter’s notice. Utterly unnecessary.