Here's an entertaining write up of this week 's episode of Entourage from Slate that I fully agree with:
Entourage is one of those shows in which the fun is actually inherent. Studio 60, among its missteps, presented the entertainment industry as a place of high moral purpose—a point of view contrary to the very premise of the HBO hit, which features a rising actor named Vince (Adrian Grenier) and his posse as they make moves, chase women, and match egos. When American showbiz regards itself in a mocking mirror, it often recognizes venality of a distinctly adult sort, zeroing in on bottom lines and sophisticated lies. Such is the view shared by satires including Robert Altman's The Player and Jake Kasdan's new The TV Set. But Entourage is less a satire of Hollywood than its burlesque (crossed, let's say, with an extended riff on male vanity), and it takes a different tack. They say, and will always keep on saying, that Hollywood is high school with money. Brilliantly, Entourage offers a whole lot of high school. It's hormonal and antsy, and its takes on status would be right at home in the lunchroom. The show hit a peak last Sunday when Ari Gold (Jeremy Piven), Vince's erstwhile agent and the true star of the show, experienced a … well, what to call it? His outburst combined elements of a tantrum, a sermon, a drill sergeant's bark, and an instant of revelation. In any case, it was a crucial moment for Ari and a bravura one for Piven.
Ari had been more distraught than a spurned lover since Vince fired him, and his depression was affecting his work. He passed up the chance to sign a superstar writer because, in an unprecedented triumph of morality, he refused to let the guy take sexual advantage of Lloyd, his loyal assistant. Then he found himself unable to fire Rob, an underperforming underling, merely because he had just emerged from eye surgery and moaned that his wife had just left him. Ari worried that he had lost his ruthlessness and so consulted with his marriage counselor, interrupting her at her golf club: "I want my edge back. I need my anger and I need it now!" And then, erupting with rage at his shrink, he had his anger back, and he was at a crossroads. Ari looked into his soul or the absence thereof, made a choice, and went back to office.
The scene—Ari firing Rob as disrespectfully as possible in a conference room filled with his colleagues—was bookended nicely. Charging out the office elevator, sweaty with mania, eyes open for nothing but his prey, he crashed into the cart of a mailroom guy and rebounded with a triumphant gesture of good health and a snap of the finger. And strutting out of the conference room after the dismissal, radiant with attitude, he did not break a stride when snatching a candy bar from the hand of plumpish employee. He said it matter-of-factly: "Skip it, Jenny." If you've seen Shark Week on the Discovery Channel, then you know that they're beautiful animals.
Comments