Entourage Screen 8 articles



Entourage Poster
  • "That's what stars do: they walk into rooms and fuck girls that civilians want." For the other fifty per cent, swap out "girls" for "guys." Ari's omission—he could just have said "people"—is indicative of what is blinkered, obtuse, one-sided and retrograde about the movie.

  • I think we can agree that masturbation has nothing to do with you. That’s Entourage: five adult adolescents jerking off for their more famous friends. It’s not a movie per se, but 104 minutes of jizz.

  • ××

    Sight & Sound: Lisa Mullen
    July 03, 2015 | August 2015 Issue (pp. 71-72)

    Is this supposed to be a comment on Hollywood's skewed value system? Is the whole thing a sly satire on the vacuity and fraudulence of the American dream? If only. In reality, this is simply a series of baffling non sequiturs that might have been put together by a committee of hormonal and not terribly bright schoolboys.

  • Even the biggest Entourage fan in the world—the guy who would violate multiple restraining orders if he attended the première—could not possibly care about the new addition to the bro family, or whether E and Sloan can really make it work this time. Blockbuster events don’t get much punier than that.

  • No one working in Hollywood today is unaware of the industry's gaudy ridiculousness, least of all the Ten Commandments-sized cast list of celebrities and business mavens who agreed to skewer themselves in cameos peppered throughout, but it takes a pack of bros with a pretty heroic lack of introspection to craft a lazy paean to prick-entitlement this unrepentant. If ever there was a movie equivalent of dad bod, Entourage is it.

  • Entourage is no dagger to the underbelly of LA’s superficiality, vapid celebrity worship or false promises – it never was, of course. It now feels like a garish, laddish, doltish celebration of everything most depressing in contemporary Hollywood.

  • It’s hard not to get a little restless watching endless Steadicam shots in which our characters banter around while anonymous, be-stilettoed sylphs sashay in the background. That “walk-and-talk” aesthetic is par for the course in the TV world, with its ruthless schedules and dialogue-based content; on film, it feels like laziness.

  • Epically vapid, but possibly in a self-knowing way which, alas, does little to make it feel like a better movie.

More Links