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“Entourage” is a breezy romp clearly targeted for the fans of the bromantic HBO series of the same title. Lazily entertaining and good-looking with an amped up gloss, its lavish amount of flash celebrates excess and male privilege in Hollywood. Although it pays decent fan service with distinct traces of what made the TV series a hit in its own right, the material doesn’t provide enough cinematic storytelling values to sustain the expectations for the film medium.
Functioning like a frat party involving Hollywood personalities, this theatrical version brings back the series’ original cast as A-list star Vince Chase demands for his directorial debut as part of the new movie deal offered to him. In between the personal issues and relationship woes of Vince’s crew, the agent-turned-studio boss Ari Gold is back in business and very soon finds himself in a very risky situation when Vince and his wolfpack ask for more money to finish the project. The movie’s financier assigns his son to evaluate the production, which soon jeopardizes not only the financing, but also the upcoming theatrical release of the project.
This poorly plotted motion picture proves that what works on the small screen may turn out quite cheap, lacking, or even desperate on the big screen. While it is predominantly fine for such a material to not take itself too seriously, the story flow trips over a lot of half-baked issues. The deficient script skips over whole chunks of vital narrative elements just to keep up with the required testosterone-fueled fun. With its situational comedy unable to sustain its storyline or its characters within a reliable cinematic framework, the storytelling simply presents a two-hour episode of its TV counterpart, which evidently shows that what gets forgiven on TV becomes glaringly apparent and quite impossible to overlook in film format.
On the good side, the vicarious pleasure crafted by director Doug Ellin genuinely offers patrons with that same jaunty style found in the series. But despite sticking to the winning formula that mostly kept TV fans entertained for a good number of seasons, the ambition of this bro-mage of a movie still fails the franchise’s own conceptual ambition for a successful form of filmed entertainment meant for the big screen.
Highlighting celebrity worship, narcissism, and sexual objectification, this cash grab picture remains negligently fatuous for the most part. Often times, it turns out empty and self-centered and its problematic dramatic arc remains stuck in an inconsequential rut where a circle of guy friends try to have sex and ultimately party hard all the time. Its sexist ways make things feel very low-grade through the casually misogynistic treatment of its woman characters — even with scenes showcasing MMA fighter Ronda Rousy inside the ring.
The movie’s ritzy cinematography and production design simply map out an “oh-yeah celebration” of idealized consumption through the ostentatiously savvy sights of mansions, convertibles, Los Angeles landmarks, and women in bikinis. Even though these posh elements offer a decently watchable form of diversion, the movie’s shallow treatment and overarching moodiness fundamentally rely on familiar jokes and celebrity cameos — including those of Mark Wahlberg, Liam Neeson, Jessica Alba, Armie Hammer, Tom Brady, and Russell Wilson — to provide brief amusement every now and then. The presentation generally satisfies its devoted fans by providing them brainless delight and comfort at the presence of the utterly familiar ragtag team. However, it makes no effort to seriously engage the uninitiated.
With its fan service gliding with confidence, this big-screen incarnation delivers plenty of inside jokes and mundane treats geared toward its followers. No matter how ridiculous and over-the-top things get on screen, its silly fun promotes escapist entertainment to keep that guiltily pleasurable relationship with its devotees. But beyond the fizz aimed at its built-in audience, this missed opportunity wastes the potential of a frat boy-bachelor party flick that can compellingly touch on the politics of Tinsel Town. It is very unlikely to make new fans and the more demanding viewers would probably remain unmoved by its aimless and vapid intentions.
The cast’s easy camaraderie aptly depicts the strong bond that made the series a commercial success. The actors led by Adrian Grenier as Vince and his company composed of Kevin Connolly as Eric, Kevin Dillon as Johnny, and Jerry Ferrara as Turtle seem pretty comfortable in the skin of their shallow characters as a pack of bratty wolves crying to the moon about their capricious place in Hollywood. But without any character change, without any arc and dependable conflict in its narrative, these guys offer nothing but mindless fun.
Jeremy Piven renders an energetic performance as the devil to be loved Ari Gold. The supporting roles turn out as a mixed bag. Haley Joel Osment is a hit-and-miss as Travis McCredle. Billy Bob Thornton as Larsen McCredle pleasingly owns the screen in almost every appearance. Rex Lee as Lloyd simply provides some comic relief as required by the lame script. A number of woman roles are merely left out as objectified characters.
This movie is packaged more like “a very special episode” of the series, offering too little for anyone who is not a die-hard fan. Its plain, unadulterated fun exploring the ego, money, power, and success involved in the movie business doesn’t cover any new ground. Its concept suggests mocking or even satirizing the industry, but what it turns out to be is practically the very material intended for such mockery. If this picture is geared towards promoting the industry’s superficiality, then it literally turns out to be its very own product.