Entourage is the whitest, broiest TV show that ever bleached a white bro’s bro-hole, and anyone expecting anything different from the movie was setting themselves up for disappointment.
The movie picks up with Vincent Chase (Adrian Grenier) partying after annulling his series-ending marriage, since, who needs a ball and chain, right? After bringing the entourage onto his giant sex boat, he gets a call from agent-turned-studio head Ari Gold (Jeremy Piven) offering him a role. To shake things up, Chase requests to direct.
An immediate eight month timeskip robs viewers of seeing this process, though they do get a long middle finger in the form of a 10-minute exposition newsreel. No, this isn’t a movie about Chase struggling with new challenges and evolving as an artist and a character. Instead, it’s a movie about financier Travis McCredle (Haley Joel Osment) being jealous of his awesome sex life, among many other subplots to make the other characters seem important.
The movie is basically a two-hour long episode of the show, and that’s a terrible thing. It’s been called a male version of Sex and the City, and that’s putting it way too kindly. It’s more like an extremely sexist middle-schooler’s imagining of Los Angeles, after some kind of undiscussed mass extinction event that killed all the minorities, all the ugly women and all the men who aren’t your buddies. It’s a celebration of all the worst expressions of male privilege and masculinity, an eight-year barrage of every negative male stereotype short of wife beating. If it were made by women, I’d call it misandry.
Impromptu breaks for actual porn: 9
The series endured partially because critics thought Piven yelling a lot equated to good acting, but mainly because there are actually people who enjoy watching these vapid egotists skip anything resembling conflict or story and get everything they want. You know him. The backward baseball cap hiding the half-gallon of hair gel, the ever-present tank top accentuating arms he actually thinks are impressive, the 10-foot radius around him because even from that distance he reeks of body spray. The kind of fuckboy who walks up to you in a bar and tells you to laugh like he said something funny so that someone will notice him because, deep in his heart, he knows that’s the only way anyone ever will and that he could never actually make anyone laugh, the kind of guy who you just know has actually tried negging. Imagine a theater full exclusively of these people, and despair.
Instances of hammered frat boy misogyny*: 13
It’s difficult to find something critical to say specifically about the movie because it feels so much like an extension of the series. That’s probably what writer/director/producer/series creator Doug Ellin was going for, so, points for execution, but three times as many points off for the concept. In eight years, these characters never developed more than the single dimension they had in the pilot, and the movie is no different. Gold yells. Chase relaxes. Johnny “Drama” Chase (Kevin Dillon) loudly wields his pitiful combination of unearned pride and soul-crushing insecurity. Turtle (Jerry Ferrara) begs for sex. There’s no real conflict, just clashes of ego.
Uses of the word “bro:” 15
The movie, like the series, isn’t without its merits. The show developed kind of a signature circling shot around the characters that’s still effective, that’s in this a few times. There’s a lot of nice meta content, like when Ronda Rousey talks about hospitalizing noisy moviegoers or when Gold says the story of Chase’s live should be a TV show. Osment has grown into a fat, creepy neckbeard, and he wears it so, so well. In a movie full of characters to hate, he plays the only one you love to hate. But all these instances of self-awareness, funny as they are, also highlight the completely unironic sexism that permeates the show and the movie.
Breaks for shitty pop-rap: 17
And, of course, the cameos. The endless stream of more famous, better — in eight years, none of the leads have ever demonstrated more than a single dimension — actors, the show’s way of telling viewers it isn’t interesting enough on its own. By far the best is Kelsey Grammer, who tells Gold while passing him on the way out of a marriage counseling center that it’s all a sham. They are, however, mostly dull reminders of how poor the cast is.
Cameos of much better actors: 34
Leopold Knopp is a formerly professional film critic, licensed massage therapist and journalism student at the University of North Texas. I hate pedophiles, but I love irony. I’ve had a change of heart about reader input. It is now welcomed and encouraged. Like Reel Entropy on Facebook, follow it on Twitter @reelentropy, and shoot questions to reelentropy@.
*Defined as insulting a woman in a way that highlights her gender, such as calling her a slur or coming onto her as an attack. Number does not include calling each other pussies or bitches, as this is more bullying than misogyny.