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Yeah, well. It's never a good sign when a pilot gets delayed multiple times before production even begins. In this case, someone has taken "re-tooling" to this whole new level that's very...uneven, to say the least. I didn't note any humor, for example. Mostly some things just...happened. Tooling accomplished, I guess. We meet up-and-coming-and-boring young movie star, Vince Chase, and his buddies, the titular, eponymous entourage: There's Eric, Vince's superego/manager, who's nice and a little idealistic and makes Ethan Embry puppydog faces a lot. There's id-identified Turtle, who's crude and a little cynical, and manages to profit from Vince's fame better than the rest of them put together. And, finally, we meet "Drama," the unlikely-named half brother, who lives off Vince's success with bit parts and pathos and a little bit of unearned ego. Drama is played, weirdly enough, by Kevin Dillon. The main action involves setting up an ongoing feud between Eric and Vince's wolverine of an agent, Ari Jacobs, over a movie role which is ultimately lost to Colin Farrell. Ali Larter shows up for a second and goes all Lisa-Marie Presley, and Executive Producer Marky Mark literally makes his cameo over his shoulder as he runs by with his own Funky Bunch. There's a drug-dealer dog and it attacks one of the Entourage for the entertainment of the others. It's kind of boring, to be honest. The sleazy DiCaprio Pussy Posse antics I was promised seem to have been diluted somehow on their way to the screen. week, though: Jessica Alba, somehow starring both as herself and some kind of madam. So there's hope. Anyway, a moment of reverence for the bizarre alchemy that brought us this new HBO comedy drama -- Carrie Bradshaw meets Larry David, but without the clever dialogue. We need to remember that there's a fifth drugged-up, horny famewhore at this table, and that's the man we call: Hollywood. Respect. Want more? The full recap starts right below!
Heading in, I cross my fingers and pray this isn't The Casino all over again. This is only because I haven't watched Six Feet Under yet, or I would have been praying it wasn't that all over again, instead. Yikes. So okay, credits up first, because this how we do it on HBO. They -- meaning the credits -- would like to be very exciting. I -- meaning me -- am suspending judgment on this. All the stars' names are Photoshopped onto signs for various establishments (see, their names are in lights, see?) that we see on some very probably famous Los Angeles street, which the cast is driving down in some very probably famous kind of convertible. A not very good song plays. Someone wants to be my superhero. Whatever. The voice is very nasal, very matchbox twenty, and my superhero speaks with a Connecticut accent.
So you know that game you play with credits where you pretend they're meaningful even though they're created by a severely different department on the other side of the country from the writers? Like on Saved By the Bell, how Tiffany-Amber Thiessen's name came up in a big bold early-nineties Dep gel construction-paper cutout shape that suggested to my friend Christine a teardrop (Tiff plays a crybaby) but to me suggested a big fake silicon breast (Tiff plays jail bait). Or Mr. Belding's graphic, the obvious bald head. Try it, it's fun. Anyway, in deference to this old-school pursuit, I'll tell you where everybody's name is. Also because there are no shots of the actual lineup until the end, when you see them for all of five seconds. So this part's boring.
First up is Kevin Connolly, who's kind of the moral center of our story as Eric, the unofficial manager-slash-buddy. His name is found on a billboard. Connolly used to be on some sitcom, before, but I can't remember which one. Either the one with Donal Logue, or the one with Nikki Cox, or the one with Bobcat Goldthwait where the Muppet lived in their couch and he would have heart-to-heart conversations with it. Or maybe those are all the same show. I'm not sure. Connolly has grown into a nice-looking young man. is Adrian Grenier, who didn't have to grow into anything, because he didn't grow up on camera, he just started out hot and got hotter and hotter. Grenier plays Vince Chase, the technical center of our story. The reference point around which our titular entourage circles. Also known as the ATM. Maybe that's why his name appears over an all-night convenience store. Above a strip club we find Kevin Dillon's name, which is fine, even though he's not the dirtiest of this crew. He plays Vince's half-brother "Johnny Drama" Chase. About which name do not even get me started; in fact, that's the last time you'll see it here as a proper name -- I'm going to call him Kevin Dillon, because that's who he's playing. Himself. Somebody's brother. The fact that he took this role is prima facie evidence that he won't mind me calling him on it. Jerry Ferrara, who plays "Turtle," is up , over either a closed-down A/X place or one of those tanning-and-lingerie-modeling places, or "massage" parlors, with the blacked-out windows. I'm guessing one of the latter. Turtle is, um, horny. So horny that it preempts his ability for thought, self-critique, or providing interest as a television character. As we shall see. That's all there is to Turtle, I think. Well, he's kind of mean, too.
Jeremy Piven's name, to loud squeals and applause, appears over a tattoo parlor with zebra stripes painted on. He plays Vince's sneaky-snaky, rage-addicted, almost Shakespearean, almost insulting manager/agent named Ari Jacobs. "Ari," I happen to know, means "lion" in Hebrew. "Jacobs," I also happen to know, means "Sleazy McJew, but that's okay because there are tons of Jewish managers in Hollywood, and most of them are assholes, so the Venn diagram our lawyer drew us says we can call him Sleazy McJew because it does not mean that since some birds are irrefutably black then all blackbirds are Jewish, or whatever. Our lawyer is also Jewish, so it's fucking fine." In this context, anyway, that's what it means. Crazy language, Hebrew. But I'm not complaining, because this is Piven we're talking about. And how does he do? He is awesome. He brings the Full Piven and he brings the drama and the anger and it is good. But I don't know what that has to do with tattoos, so I'm calling this round of "Explain the Credits" a bust. (Screech is represented by a diamond shape because he's played by Dustin Diamond, okay?)
The opening credits stubbornly refuse to end. Lots of jarring jumping around of the camera and I get a little Casino-related flashback trauma. People waiting in lines! Traffic lights! Buildings, with walls holding up their rooftops! A palm tree! A bunch of places that might not be completely random if you have ever been to L.A.! Which I have not! Their car says "Continental" on it. I don't know what that means, I don't even know how to drive, but I assume it's some kind of pimpin' luxury Lincoln. Which is about right. But, so starter jackets! A backwards mesh cap! The Grauman's fucking place with the stars on the sidewalk where at this point I feel like I've actually been, even though the closest I've been to there is the San Diego Zoo. It's all just so Los Angeles. Especially the trucker hats. Maybe we'll see a pashmina in the scene, to prove how hip we all are to the fashions of current-day, bleeding-edge L.A. culture. The Funky Bunch arrive at their destination, which is an unattended valet station outside...somewhere that didn't sign a release, I guess. Could be anywhere. Fisher and Diaz, maybe, or West Beverly. Maybe it's CTU. Maybe that's why it's top secret. As Turtle slows and parks the car, the name of the show fakely reflects off the car's windscreen, sliding up and glowing like a message from beyond, and it's kind of cool. I don't know if it means anything. I don't know if anything means anything, actually, because it's HBO. I do know it implies there's a sign somewhere in Hollywood that reads "egaruotnE," though, because: Physics.
Entourage was brought to you by creator Doug Ellin. Let's talk about that for a second. Let's talk about Kissing a Fool, and his turn as an actor in Erotic Confessions Volume IV, and Phat Beach, about which I know nothing but I can assume. On second thought, let's not talk about those things. But we can talk about the fact that Doug was a staff writer on Life with Bonnie -- a show which I can empirically tell you only stopped sucking during the improvisation bits? I'm just saying. Also, in case you didn't know, the series is somewhat loosely based on Mark Wahlberg's experiences as an up-and-coming young movie stud. So Doug Ellin, of Kissing a Fool, and Marky Mark, of the Funky Bunch, got together and convinced some people of some things, is what I'm telling you. People like Larry David. People like HBO. People like you and me.
Some girl in a little bit of Marissa Cooper couture -- who needs food when your clothes have metal attachments and no breast support? -- comes out of this month's Sephora to the generic sound of one of those rap songs where the chorus is like "Whoo, She Bang Bang Boom" that was probably the hottest thing going back in 1995 when this show started its Inanna slide into development hell. We pan across a million identical girls whose bra size exceeds their waist size times a hundred, and it's creepy. Somebody in a yellow Hummer is honking with the unearned entitlement that TV has taught us is a trademark of the Hollywood community. It's Turtle, the most obvious of the hangers-on, and he's bringing the poster for Vince's most recent film (co-starring Jessica Alba, so you know Vince is going places) to a Funky Bunch lunch. On the way in, he greets several identical Hollywood girls in that greasy way you're thinking of, even doing the "forward one step, turn, and check the ass" maneuver that's so believable in movies and TV shows. Enough of the identical Hollywood girls respond favorably that you can see why he persists in this behavior. Maybe they're all famous, or something, but the camera's moving too fast to see. To indicate to you how quickly the camera is moving: one of them is either Mira Sorvino, Shannon Elizabeth, or Linda Ronstadt.
Without prelude, Turtle demands that Vince sign the movie poster, for "Mary at Nike," and then to belabor the point, follows up with, "You want her to shut down our shoe supply?" Eric and Vince tool lovingly at each other and everyone laughs at how dire that would be, but they're not kidding. It's trivial, and the laughs are fake. Kevin Dillon unrolls the poster -- which I have to think he's seen before this -- and talks with his mouth full of marbles because he's playing Queens homeboy: "They screwed it up. They got your eye color wrong." The poster is in black and white. Vince points this out. Why are they discussing this? "They look brown to me." Is the point of this to portray Kevin Dillon as functionally retarded? So that we don't lose sight of Turtle's entire reason for being on the show, he points out that "at least they didn't fuck up your package." It's a head shot. Eric points this out. Why are they discussing this? Turtle leaves Eric's "logic" for behind for an unrelated story about Warren Beatty sending back 300,000 one-sheets for a movie because "his dick looked too small in the sweat pants." So is this how it's going to go? Belabored and nonsensical setups for "insider" dick jokes? Because that's all that has happened so far. A narrative "pull my finger," if you will. Kevin shows his grasp by praising Beatty for looking out "for his image," which, okay, that says a lot about the mindset of the group, but still comes from a place of not making sense to begin with.
Some identical Hollywood girls walk by, their approach telegraphed by fake day-player laughter. Turtle inexpertly flings his keys over his shoulder, the better to ask if the girls dropped them, but then -- and again, nonsense draws a line from the beginning of the sentence to the end of it -- we learn that these girls fully know all of the guys by name (although they don't expressly greet Kevin Dillon, because he is parsley). Apparently it's a good thing he threw his keys over his shoulder or else they would have just walked right by, I guess? "You guys going to that Motorola party tonight?" Oh, as if you care. We'd just have to get Turtle to throw his keys around some more to get you to talk to us. Also, though, that's funny, because Motorola has been buying little pieces of the Hollywood infrastructure for years, and throw about six parties a week, as pointed out by spork on the forum. The fact that the script doesn't go its usual route and immediately have five characters point this out, however, means maybe they don't know that. Like maybe they've been to one or two parties, in Hollywood, and they were Motorola parties. I'm not willing to posit subtlety at this point. Eric tells the girls that they are going to the premiere of Vince's movie with Jessica Alba tonight, so they'll have to skip the Motorola party. Until, like, tomorrow night. The girls half-bitch about not being invited, which really is just a placeholder for Turtle to crack that it's because they're "not hot enough." Wow, I'm tired of this character already. Apparently this guy's based on an actual friend of Marky Mark's from the Boston days, and the portrayal of him is true to life. Awesome. One of the girls, in quick succession, flips him the bird, wishes Vince luck, and mumbles the rest of a line as she makes for the door. I hope nobody else drops their keys between here and wherever she's headed. That's a serious liability.
Kevin Dillon bitches that nobody ever says hello to him, and Eric kind of calls him out and asks why he doesn't say hi to them, and Kevin says "that ain't how it works," calling Eric an asshole for no reason, so Eric -- as curious as I am about where this is going -- asks how, in fact, it does work. Engrossed yet? Kevin responds, "Fucking models," leaving our score for satisfactory acts of communication at a steady nil. Eric does an awkward pirouette of a segue, expositing the question of whether or not the guys are going to "that reunion." We get it, they're all old friends. "The only people I talk to from high school are sitting at this table," says Vince. We get it. "Ten-year reunion, baby!" smarms Kevin. We get it. Kevin gets defensive about how it's not his reunion, but he says that he hung out with a lot of the kids from their class, which actually means that he sold them weed. Apropos of nothing, Vince says, "Yo," and tells Eric that the two of them should hook up with the key-snatching models after the premiere. Kevin and Turtle, of course, go apeshit, even though they both just separately denounced the girls. Lots of F-bombs are dropped. I don't believe any of this is happening. The script for this scene is like a random handful of fifteen cocktail napkins that say like, "turtle: gross," and "reunion -- 10 yr," and "the word fuck 16 times," and "remind viewers they are all trash from Queens," and "drug dealer???" and then they got some intern to sketch in the ligature between them.
Vince points out that "E" ("E" is for Eric) is "in recovery," somehow, and Kevin says that "E" fell off the wagon. Kevin puts "E" on blast about having called some girl named Kristen, and Vince reacts like he said Kim Il Jong. Kevin pushes the HBO envelope by inventing a brand-new, never-before-seen conundrum that perfectly describes the central breakup problem: if the boys call this "Kristen" a bitch, and then they get back together, Eric might be mad at them for talking smack about his former ex. You know what's funny about that, though? As much as people on every TV show in the universe discusses this possibility, it's very rarely brought to fruition. It's just this terrifying, brotherhood-destroying scenario that hangs over their laddish heads like the threat of nuclear cataclysm. Like walking in on each other naked. So in order to resolve this Schrodinger's Girlfriend existential crisis, Eric declares it over, everybody yells that she's a bitch, Eric allows as how she's a bitch, and everybody cheers. They raise beers and go "woo!" and slug back beer, okay? "She's a bitch! Yeah!" Like October Sky, but with misogyny. Lame, first of all, and a very wounded masculinity sort of circling of the wagons, but also? Who talks like this? About these obvious, clichéd things? People who've seen it on TV, that's who. Not actual people having actual conversations that they are invested in. And who needs this kind of crap support from their friends anyway? I wouldn't let someone I was dating within ten miles of this Turtle person, for fear I'd be inalterably tainted in the eyes of my beloved. Or eventually called as a character witness.
Heading to the premiere in a black limousine, we drive by actual Sephora. "How's my head?" asks Kevin. Huh? "You look fine, [Kevin]," Vince sweetly assures him. Everyone kind of watches him, because he's very nervous, but Turtle needs it explained that Kevin is very nervous because he's also in the movie -- which Turtle forgot. Turtle kindly asks him to say his line again, and it's very nice of the boys to be so solicitous about what's clearly a big deal for Kevin and an itsy-bitsy deal for everyone else in the world: "Give us your line again?" They're only about 15 percent making fun of him, which is better than their average, as he straightens his posture, shoots his metaphorical thespian cuffs, and grits out, "I'm outta here, motherfuckers!" The crowd goes wild, and they scream their encouragement. It's a little sad, but at least everyone's putting a nice face on it. It makes me glad Joan Cusack rocks so fucking hard, you know? And again, Kevin asks about "the head," and I'm still unsure what we're talking about. Adding to my confusion, he is reassured by Eric's protestations that the head is "thick." What the fuck is going on? Oh. His hair. Man, this guy is a mess. "That Rogaine, that shit's liquid gold, baby," he says. Okay, I get what they're doing here, and apart from the clunky dialogue I'm actually pretty impressed. Kevin's actually acting like an insecure Hollywood casualty, and they've put some thought into his character, and it's cool. I'm starting to get into this show now. At first I thought it was all about the conflict between Ari and Eric, but there's a smarter issue here: protecting Kevin from Vince's fame has gotta be, like, a full-time, around-the-clock kind of deal.
Having arrived at the premiere, Kevin makes ready to exit the limo, but Eric (falling down on the job a bit) bluntly points out that best practice might be to have Vince -- the star of the film, and of the limo, for that matter -- leave the limo first. Ouch, and Kevin sits back again. Vince stands up, and there's a five-story-tall banner of his head above and behind him that covers almost an entire building (the movie in question is called Head On, by the way, which sounds dumb). There's screaming and flash photography and the camera jiggles around so much I can feel the red carpet beneath my feet. The rest of the entourage follows him into the fray, and Turtle notes both that the "Pavarottis" are out tonight, which earns a tiny giggle from me, embarrassingly, and the "tits on the girl from Extra," which I'm sure is hilarious, but I don't watch Extra, so I'm pretending he means Serena Altschul because that girl will guest-star on anything. Maybe he's talking about the actual Pavarotti. Heh. Eric, doing his non-job as Vince's unofficial manager, sends Turtle to make sure "Ali" isn't sitting within ten rows of Vince. I like this whole double-or-nothing rule about exposition we've got going. Keeps you on your toes, narratively speaking. Either tell me six times or mention it in passing, without context. Eric tells Turtle not to mug for the cameras, so Turtle throws his arm around Vince and immediately begins mugging for the cameras. But what about this Ali we've never heard of? I'd be worried, if I knew what to be worried about.
Vince grabs Kevin and makes sure the Pavarottis know what's up: "Get a picture of me and my brother." Backstory journalist guy exposits, "You used to be on that show, right?" Kevin prickles a little: "Yeah, I used to be on a bunch of shows. Pal." The Pavarottis are like a Greek chorus. That's cool. They should totally do that on a half-hour comedy-drama about celebrity and Hollywood, like have the reporters tell their stories back to them, as a reality check. So high concept. If only there were a show like that on TV. Or, no, not TV at all: HBO. So another Choruser actually says the line, "Vince's brother! What is your name?" It's funny. Just like it was in A League of Their Own. Vince tells his brother's name, adding that "he steals the film." Aww. I realize it's about 76 percent dictated by necessity that they all cover for Kevin's smashable ego, but it's still sweet. Guys can be awful nice to each other sometimes. There's a weird almost-montage of the men making their way down the carpet, and a strange part where Eric's making his way up toward them through the camera guys crowded on the carpet, and Vince holds out his hand toward him like he's drowning or something, and then ruefully realizes that Eric can't catch up, and they smile at each other, and it's weird, because it seems like they're only a couple of feet apart. Vince is sporting the black long-sleeved shirt with the cuffs unbuttoned and flopsy, it's very Byronic-by-way-of-Ermenegildo-Zegna, which should be making this scene all the more effective.
Cut to the after-party, where once again the show blows your mind with its timeliness: "Hey Yeah" by Outkast is playing at the after-party, meaning it takes place last year, and is thus "after" nothing. Like, I know all about how long it takes to license music for stuff like this, and nobody can do anything about it really, but when your whole show is meant to be all "five seconds from now" and "you haven't even heard of this shit yet, Middle America" and "behind the velvet rope," could you, like, try? At all? On The O.C. they have the hit single from five months in the future playing before the album even comes out. Could you politely ask to borrow their time machine? Or at least their box of press releases? Because if I'm wrong, the alternative is that I could go to a Hollywood premiere party tonight and it would be all "Hey Yeah" and "Crazy in Love" and I'd just turn around and walk home because I have so few illusions left, I need to pack them carefully in cotton whenever I leave the house.
As the Funky Bunch make their funky way through virtually the exact same crowd of well-wishers into the party, Vince grabs Eric for a tiny ego-pump, and Eric obliges that the film was "off the charts," without even turning his head to look at Vince. Which is too bad, because it's very satisfying to see the worry and stress fade from his face upon these words, because he trusts Eric implicitly. Whew, that was a rough 45 seconds of uncertainty, he thinks. Some girl I could swear has already walked across the screen ten times gets a picture with Vince, and over her shoulder he asks Eric how much longer they have to stay at the premiere party. Eric tells him the order of things, mingling, drinking, and schmoozing, and tells him to immediately go take a picture with "Alan," who of course Vince doesn't recognize, because Eric's in charge: he's the "guy that financed the fucking movie, Vince. Come on." There is a slight contretemps about whether this is the financier with the "hot daughter" or the "gay son," and I'm sure we all know who they're talking about by now, right? No? Me neither. That's why it's an inside joke, you guys. So the people on either coast who heap lavish praise over the gaping mouths of their Golden Globes gift bags can feel smart and talk about it at their cupping appointment: "Did you hear what they said about Alan? Very droll. I'm totally voting for Entourage the second I get my Emmy ballot. I belong. I feel good about myself. I'm such a total insider. Now get to cupping! Suck out every single one of those bad humors, Maria-Elena. I'm sure as fuck not going to have more toxins in my body than Gwyneth, and I need gross Inquisition bruises all over myself to prove it. 'Macrobiotic,' my ass."
Turtle explains to -- okay, look. There are five girls in Hollywood, apparently, that I can tell apart. The same is true for Turtle. So I'm going to call them all, collectively, the Miutrix, after my favorite socialite. So Turtle tells the Miutrix that Vince always goes "night swimming" after every premiere. Meanwhile, across the room, the Miutrix sweetly gives Kevin some much-needed validation: "That was you?" To which he responds by shadow-boxing for her enjoyment. Talking, talking, nobody I recognize...if this were Curb Your Enthusiasm, we would have seen fifty people by now in a shot this big. If this were Dr. Katz, we would have seen at least ten. Maybe they're all industry types, but I think they're too pretty. They're all drinking beer out of bottles, and so far this is the only indication we're not watching something set in New York City. Oh, wait. The palm trees. And the trucker hats, too, but those are implied by the bottles of beer.
PIVEN ALERT! Ari approaches Eric and immediately asks where Vince is. They're moderately friendly with each other -- there's kind of a conspiratorial hint in the air as Ari castigates Eric over the fact that Vince has still not read the script for a movie called Matterhorn. He also seems a little desperate and curses a little. He promises Eric courtside seats in the near future if he can get Vince to read the script. Turtle approaches, and I hope the claws come out, but Ari just greets him abruptly and parts with a final demand that Vince read the script tonight. Which is so obviously not happening, but whatever. Eric is cool here, you can tell he's dealt with Ari before. And not only that, you can also tell he's as good at playing the game as he is memorizing names and faces. I [HEART] Eric. Turtle gets a little attitude about Ari, after he's safely gone, but swings quickly into some gross. "I'm on ass patrol! I got a six-pack, one of them kind of looks like Kristen." That is believable, yes, that someone would say that, but it's not gross enough, somehow. He's a little PG-ified. This whole show is a little PG-ified. I'm not saying I want one of them in the gutter outside the Viper Room -- although if it were Turtle I could handle it -- but this so far is like a Spelling version of a day in the life of DiCaprio, or as Variety described it, Hollywood reimagined as a rap video. Eric asks, as though he needed the clarification, whether Turtle is an asshole. "I'm just saying: revenge fuck." So, um, yes, Eric. Turtle also managed to obtain the knowledge from the Miutrix that she "loves to give head," and since he knows Eric "desperately" needs it, blah blah blah. Eric questions the veracity of this statement, but Turtle says that the healthy individual we're discussing only divulged this information to him after he first admitted that he loves Derek Jeter. Which, what? And secondly, I'll say right now that if all it takes is a love of Derek Jeter to...never mind. I can't think where I could possibly be going with that sentence. Turtle's driving again, I guess.
Kevin jumps out of nowhere to say "Illegally Blonde, two o'clock," by which he means Ali Larter is coming, because she was in Legally Blonde, which is funny -- contingent on whether you remember she was in that movie, of course -- and also confirms this character as actual Larter and not Larter as somebody else. So now I feel like an insider, and I'm all puffed up with pride and other ill humors that will most likely require cupping. But on this side of the fourth wall, Ali Larter is one scary lady, apparently stalking Vince, and putting the smack down on Turtle immediately, and refusing to let go of finding Vince and doing something scary in front of everybody. She tells Eric to go fuck himself after he refuses to give up Vince's location, and disappears. But she'll be back. Turtle's ADD leads him to exposit that the "six-pack" of girls previously alluded to won some kind of K-ROQ contest and are willing to party, on the condition that they meet Vince first. Which, dude. The existence of radio contests to meet celebrities kind of leads the mind inexorably to this kind of thing, even if you pretend it's like an urban legend or something, but I would think that would be like the lowest of the low, to sleep with the winner of a radio contest. Ugh. This is a person who demonstrated their love for you by repeatedly pressing "redial." Like those "Aiken for Clay" people. Well, if he, you know, went through with it. "Could you get laid without Vince?" Turtle answers Eric's quite apposite question with one more rhetorical in nature: "Do I give a fuck?" Heh.
In the limo, a scene we've never seen before: a bunch of average guys just covered in Miutrix bitches and hos, smoking cigars and drinking, and everyone's laughing. Joe Budden's "Fire" is playing, which is a little more contemporary, since that only debuted like eight months ago. Inside the house where nearly the entire entourage lives, there's a great big swimming pool. And from the ceiling above this swimming pool, there is a rope swing. And hanging from that rope swing is a liability suit. Remember when you very very young, and you drew your perfect house, and it had secret passages and a soda machine and a slide down to the ground from the fifth floor and a tiger preserve and a Batcave with a hidden elevator and a giant indoor pool with a rope swing? Now imagine your best friend is a movie star and you've not progressed emotionally since the day you drew that picture. Yeah. Two limos' worth of Miutrix giggle and splash all over the place and someone -- maybe Eric -- is swinging around on the rope. He climbs it just like a monkey. Vince has a little Miutrix on either side and he's sweet-talking them both, but I don't have a problem with that really. Later, Eric and -- one assumes -- the Derek Jeter fan that looks like Kristen are hanging out on an indoor balcony, watching the Miutrix and Entourage splash and shriek and giggle. Eric tells her that while the rest of them live in the house proper, he lives in the guest house. "Well," she points out not very obliquely, "I'm a guest." She kisses him, holding her giant full margarita glass out to the side, with its perfectly salted rim. Eric -- who ought to put a shirt on, I think -- is hesitant, because she kind of reminds him of somebody and it's freaking him out. Does she remind you of every other faceless woman on this show, Eric? Because that's freaking me out, too. Where's Ali Larter?
Derek Jeter Girl is like, "Come on, you can tell me about her." Which is not hot, in my opinion. Nor is it realistic, no matter how much of a whore you are. Cut to some hot Miutrix action trying to ascertain whether or not Kevin is really Vince's brother. This one is blonde, with a southern accent. She points out that Kevin and Matt...er, "Vince"...don't "look very much alike," which Kevin admits is true. It's because they're only half-brothers, but Kevin says it's because he "has a lot less body fat." For some reason this causes her to giggle seductively. Meanwhile, Turtle is asking Miutrix point blank, "What do I gotta do to get a little?" That's one way to get there, cowboy. "Beg," laughs Miutrix, which is after all the only valid response to that. She also has blonde hair and a southern accent (maybe those are the sisters?), so it's like no matter where you look there's a Steam Pipe Trunk Distribution Venue. Of sorts. "I'd get on my knees, but I'd drown," he says. Because they're in the pool, you know. "Look, it's not like I don't think you're cute, but…I'm just still hoping I'm going to be the one that fucks Vince." Nice. These two were made for each other, although not in a poker-playing facility. Turtle's comeback? "Sweetheart, look around. Vince is gone. So is your sister, and your best friend. Come on, just make out with me, and I'll show you where Vince eats breakfast." And honestly? She's just as screwed as she would be any other way, so she acquiesces. I really hope it's not so she'll get to see the breakfast nook, because I don't know how you spell the word for "whore squared."
morning, the grounds crew is working as Eric leaves the guest house to visit the house proper. There's a baseball mitt, lacrosse sticks, and a football scattered on the porch steps, because some intern likes to do his job half-assedly. To underscore the innocent boyish nature of the Funky Bunch -- or maybe just Eric -- there's also a soccer goal in the yard. See it? to the giant plastic ibix? Eric kicks the soccer ball in order to impress one of the landscapers, and ends up thwunking another one, and feeling bad about it. Of course, he knows all their names -- not because anyone with half a brain would, but because he's the heart of the Funky Bunch who has not let fame go to his blah blah blah saintcakes. In the kitchen ("Hi, Blanca!") Kevin asks him how things went in a creepy Deliverance voice: "How'd it go last night, boy?" Yikes. Eric gently tries to dissuade him from the topic, because it's tacky, and Kevin takes this seriously: "I fucked like a puma." Which is funny for two reasons. Number one, what? And number two, the only reason you're famous in my house? Is because you're the last thing Kim saw on 24 before she was caught in a bear trap and menaced by a puma. Or, as we call it in my house, a "catamount." Turtle says something inordinately gross and creepy about his exploits, which causes my friend Anna to say aloud, "I want to fuck that guy up" in this, like, chilling tone.
Don't sweat it, though, quoth Turtle, because he gave her a pair of Vince's jeans. This is icky. Vince comes into the room and Eric, good boy that he is, immediately starts in with telling Vince to read the Matterhorn script, because "Ari's going nuts." Vince is like, "I know, he just called." Eric and Vince have a conversation where Eric tries to avoid Vince simply handing him his entire brain for good, but to no avail. If Eric didn't like it, Vince reasons, "Fuck it then. What do I gotta read it for?" Eric half-heartedly tries to put forth the idea that Vince will bring something unique to his reading of the script, but we and Vince both know that is not true. And frankly, so does Eric. Kevin wonders whether Eric noticed any parts he might be able to play while reading it. Everybody ignores him. Of course. "What you like, I like," explains Vince. "I mean, look at last night." I start to get really creeped out by that because I assume it has to do with the sibling tramps or something. Vince makes his way across the kitchen to Turtle and they bop fists, cementing my terror and disgust. "I think we got a hit." What the hell? Did I...oh, they're talking about the Jessica Alba movie. You know, my brain doesn't normally go to a place like that. Like, automatically. I think it's my brain trying to fill in the blanks as far as what was here before Brenda Hampton or whatever drooling, boring moron got ahold of the script in which things actually, you know, happened. This is the pilot, people. Something should have happened by now. Something compelling, or interesting, or hardcore, or...I don't know. Something where people talked and moved around in front of a camera and it was entertaining.
So there is a long, lame conversation in which we find out the totally unsurprising fact that Vince never read the script for Head On (nor, we assume, the cast with whom he'd be working), but simply relied upon Eric's good judgment. Eric has the humility to pretend to be shocked. Vince asks Eric to call and cancel the meeting with the French director of Matterhorn, and as a gritty realist touch, notes that the meeting is "at Warner's." So they really are in Hollywood, I guess. Eric wonders aloud why Vince would agree to meet the director without first reading the script, which is kind of like a lie, in that it's neither an interrogative (neither he nor we care for further elaboration) nor a rhetorical (because we already know) question. So Vince lies right back and says that at the time he let Ari schedule the meeting, he assumed he'd read the script. There's so much business going on here. People moving around the kitchen, eating, cooking, Vince popping some kind of pain reliever, Eric wandering around with a plate, people without food talking with their mouths full, people with food ignoring it...I'm exhausted. Although it might not, in truth, be solely the breakfast movements that are making me tired.
Vince changes his mind suddenly, offering up some industry wisdom on the Kevin level. He's probably going to write it down in a Hello Kitty notebook later. "It's rude to cancel at the last second." When pressed, by Eric, to describe what they'll be talking about, Vince charms, "I'll listen. That's what good actors do, they listen. Right, [Kevin]?" He says this while staring at Eric as Kevin serves food onto the plate that Vince has just slid into, which is either a very subtle comment on the way that Kevin and Vince operate together, a cunning riff on the way that Vince knows full well how the entourage is constructed around him and is completely for his benefit, or...fuck. The fucking Emperor's New HBO show got me again -- it's nothing so interesting or worthwhile. No, it's another crack on Kevin. See, he's not listening. He says, "What?" because he's not a good actor. And therefore does not listen. Even though he wants to be a good actor, he's not. Get it? DO YOU?
Rolling up in the lot at "Warner's" in a black Escalade, some other song from the Golden Age of Jazz is playing. Seriously, it might as well be the Fugeez. When you lose, lose large. Kevin's smarmily holding forth on topics of which he knows nothing, talking about how this French director is so awesome, a legend, blah blah blah. I guess he took that one first-year film class at Queens Community College where you figure out that in order to seem intelligent about cinema, all you have to do is grab hold of some director or filmmaker, doesn't matter who, and proclaim their genius. Over and over and over. This is why I didn't go to film school, because I like Hitchcock and Joss Whedon and couldn't come up with anybody that wasn't all played out in the film-school circle-jerk. And because I can't spell Krzysztof Kieslowski. Who is such a fucking genius. He's like the Matthew Barney of war-torn Eastern Europe. Making t.A.T.u. the Bjork of him, I think. So this is a little joke about people in the industry who don't really care about film, as Kevin says all Vince needs to do is talk about the French director's old movies, and when asked to elaborate on what those movies might be, asks, "How the fuck should I know?" Turtle is on the phone and smiling, which is not good. Not good. He's repeating over and over about "Vince'll love that, he'll love that." Oh Lord. No he won't. And I sure as hell won't. I ask Anna to please threaten to fuck Turtle up again, and again it gives me delicious shivers. He hangs up the phone and barks creepy/stupidly, and tells the people in the car that "Black Hack" (which, who the hell knows) says he's got like the perfect dog for them. Huh? A dog? I'm sure this is heading somewhere. I'm sure they're just putting the dog before the horse, again, so what seems like a totally bizarre and out-of-context development is actually the crammed-in retro-engineered start to a joke where the dog does something five minutes from now which Marky Mark finds hilarious.
Eric, because he's the innocent sweet little angel God put on this earth to protect us from the liberal Jewish stranglehold over all entertainment, news, and media, perks right up at hearing about the dog. A dog! Turtle clarifies that it's a guard dog, and since Kevin is a (retired? Nah.) drug dealer, he loves that idea. Wow, this could actually be Casino, for all I know. I could be getting punk'd. One by one the story elements are slipping into place. Turtle passes them a picture of the dog (because it's the future! The future, but now! Everything Bluetoothed! Everything connected! Bar codes on your neck!) and I am pretty sure Kevin actually starts to masturbate as he looks creepily at the picture of a dog and in his totally fake "deep" crusty voice goes, "He's got a great body, E. Look at those calves." You are not Tom Jones, Kevin Dillon! Stop talking like G.I. Joe! So Eric, upon looking at the picture and watching his dreams of frolicking in slow motion among the pieces of sports equipment and childhood strewn about the back yard with a wriggly, adorable puppy and its licky little tongue turn to dust, vetoes the dog. "This isn't a guard dog, it's a lawsuit." Turtle quickly calls bullshit, explaining that A. He was talking to Vince and not Eric (which is kind of rude), and B. The dog is house business, making it none of Eric's business, since he doesn't live in the house. Which is so lame, and I hate Turtle, because in fact Eric lives in the guest house ten yards from the house, in the backyard, where the dog will be bringing its victims down anyway. This is dumb. Why not just show it, instead of saying it? Turtle is a dick: Check. Eric is left out of the entourage in some respects: Check. Got it. Move on. Eric, feelings a little hurt once Kevin climbs on, drops the F-bomb on them again. Vince, no help at all, is like, "You did move out on us," just like that, with the weird expository cadence with which he's delivered every line so far. He's practically saying it into the camera. In fact, he should, they should just take out all of Vince's second-person pronouns and give him a Malcolm-over and have him say to the camera, "He did move out on us."
They talk some more about this guest house thing because it's really interesting and necessary to the plot. Or would be, if there were one, which there is not. Kevin wishes he got to live in the guest house and thinks it's not fair because he's Vince's brother, and Turtle points out that he's really his half-brother and not only that but Vince thought Kevin was his cousin until he was like 14, and Kevin launches into an unrelated rant about how parties unknown among the current group lived with him for two years at some point and ate his food and "fucked [his] fallout," and I was trying to get through this scene as quickly as possible but then Eric screwed it up for all of us by requiring more information about the "fallout" we're talking about. Which, no you don't, Eric. It's clearly idiomatic, Eric. He's not actually suggesting that you had sexual intercourse with trace radiation and free radicals, Eric. He means, he explains, his "Melrose Place fallout pussy." Which I admit, makes me laugh. Because I love Melrose Place, maybe more than anything on this earth, and because the phrase "fallout pussy" reminds me of every awards show Pamie and Stee have ever recapped. Best recaps ever. But anyway, it isn't funny in the way that they think it's funny, which is that Kevin got "pussy" from his stint on Melrose Place, and somehow that's funny, and that he was on Melrose Place, and somehow that's funny. But I am here to tell you that that is not funny. He is a lucky fictional bitch to have fictionally been on that show. I hate these people.
Kevin and Turtle snipe at each other because they have to share a bathroom. Okay? We've seen the house, you fuckers! How can you disrespect us so much as to say that? The house is huge. There's only one bathroom? I give up. Turtle, in turn, calls Kevin Dillon a "balding, unemployable douchebag." So now I like Turtle a little. What? I'm fickle. Is that so wrong? Vince explains that since Kevin's family he needs him closer to him. And that he'll thank Vince when the Manson Family comes in and slits Eric's throat in the guest house. Which pisses me off so fucking much because the only good thing about recapping that freaking terrible movie was the sentimental education I got from the forums about the murders. The guy with the dog in the guest house was the only one the cops found alive. Argh! Turtle pipes up that the dog's name is "Ah-nuld," which is, again, stupid as hell, because that wouldn't have been funny twenty years ago. This scene is freaking me out with the hate. Vince is so impressed by this ("Arnold? I like that.") that he simultaneously shuts down every warm feeling I've ever had about Adrian Grenier and decides instantly that he agrees to bringing the dog home to live with them. Kevin pops a mad boner at this. Those calves, he thinks. Ugh.
Don't blink or you'll miss Mark Wahlberg's cameo. Shit. I blinked. Apparently, though, Marky Mark -- walking with an entourage of his own -- calls out the information that he and Turtle are somehow involved in, I think, the drug trade, and that he and Kevin play golf together. This. Is. Retarded. Marky Mark never stops moving and does the entire scene rapidly over his left shoulder while talking on a cell phone. I bet that was his idea. ["It's also a semi-rip-off of Sly Stallone's cameo in Staying Alive. Weak, Wahlberg. Weeeeak." -- Sars] Sadly, Kevin invents an acting job he's working on but says he'll manage to fit Marky Mark into his schedule. He was basically a blur here, but you know, he's still pretty good-looking, old Mark. They tool around outside like little bitches while Vince meets the French director. Who he didn't like. Back at the giant echoing house with just one bathroom, they talk about it some more and blast the French. Kevin blasts directors, which is understandable, for him. Vince didn't like how the French director kept "asking him questions" and notes that the French director, who is French, didn't even see his last two movies. There's a tiny dustup about how it's hypocritical to bitch about this since Vince didn't even read the script of the French director. I wish we'd seen that scene where they met, because I bet there was wine, and some, like French, cheeses and baguettes and croissants and French fries and French's mustard, and Frenchie was there too, because I am not in any way exaggerating how French they need us to know this guy really was. The French guy, I mean.
Vince's cell phone rings in the middle of some kind of ass-kissing from somebody -- Turtle, I think. We already know it's Ari, because the whole rest of the show is here onscreen, but it's exciting anyhow, because Ari's the only good thing about this show. Ari "got some feedback from the Frog director," and as Vince begins to apologize, tells him that the French director loved him and "they want to wrap you up in a scarf and give you a baguette" and "throw four million at you" and meanwhile, Vince is kind of gross as he overtly mouths, "They loved me," to the Funky Bunch, who are literally standing with their mouths agape, waiting for the news. Yeah, because directors always call in the time it takes you to drive home from "Warner's." Not like they have to meet with seventeen producer tools first. "Can you hear me smiling? Listen," and the Piven is adorable as he chatters his choppers into the phone. Cut to Vince, and the Piven is...less adorable as he notifies him that Vince has got his "balls tingling, man." Ew. But then immediately he's back on my Hot List (R.I.P. Jim Mullen: Don't let the poorly-constructed and unfunny punchline hit your arthritic sciatica on the way out, Granddad) as he screams into traffic (and Vince's ear), "They drive that way in Tiananmen Square, bitch?" I don't know why it's funny, and really it isn't, but...it's Piven, man. The reason for the season. The Funky Bunch loses their funky lunch when they hear about the four million, and Vince asks "E" for his advice, which is still? Read the script. The others totally scoff at this.
Off the roof of their plumbing-lacking mansion, Kevin is hitting golf balls. He tools it up about golf and stuff and knocks a ball onto the mansion over, with those red Spanish tiles that were all the rage in Hollywood back in 1978 when this started filming. "time, aim west. I don't need Ed Begley rolling up here in his electric car again," grumbles Eric. And it's cute and funny, especially if you pretend Ed Begley is relevant. Kevin says it's actually Pierce Brosnan's house. Was that a joke? Is Pierce Brosnan going to be showing up at some point? I can't stand his ass. I love The Thomas Crown Affair and everything, but I'll tell you a secret: he's not acting. Anytime you've seen him on camera, you've seen him sleazing it up in his usual way. Now that the UK's joined the EU, we're allowed to call him "Eurotrash," right? Yes. If the nasty smirk fits ...
Turtle heard the number four million, and his first thought was "G-5 jet." So I'm guessing the Tarzan rope swing in the pool was his idea. Turtle and Kevin have a pointless fight that's intended for the slow among us, in order to bring them up to speed, that "Black Hack" is not, in fact, a super-villain, but is instead a drug-, and apparently dog-, and jet-dealer. Are we all on the same page? Turtle says he likes the idea for Matterhorn, and Eric points out that four years ago, Turtle thought it was a "cool idea" for Vince to take a role on Guiding Light, and how if they'd listened to him then, "we'd all be working for some loser on a soap" and I didn't understand for a second that he was referring to Vince. So he thinks they're all "working" for Vince. Which -- not that he's not doing a good job, whatever his "work" entails -- kind of makes me question his understanding of the term "work." Kevin takes offense, of course, because he's "up for a soap." To no purpose except to provide a pretext for more pointless bullshit, Turtle starts talking about how Vince was predestined for fame because he's a triple threat because he has the look and he has the talent and he has "the head." Eric -- you jerk -- says, "The what?" So here we are again, and Turtle is going to explain something again. And I hate again. "The giant head. The bigger the head, the bigger the star." And he lists like eight people with big heads and big careers.
I think the writers were like, "We need some Tarantino. What are some theories? Can we talk about how those guys on Top Gun were gay?" and somebody was like, "Somebody did that already. But good idea. Everybody meet back here tomorrow with some funny lecture things we can do about Hollywood. Like that Tae-Bo of Steve movie, with like rules and lists and things. People go nuts for that. It's clever and shit," and then they all went to Hooters and got plowed and then the day nobody had anything so they wrote all this shit in like twenty minutes on index cards, and then the guy who came up with the idea was like, "Let's discuss," and they picked the forty best and dropped these things at random throughout this awful, awful episode which is thirty minutes long and they were like, "How can we make the fact that this happens in every scene a little more organic?" and the guy was like, "Um, you haven't written any scenes yet. Like here with the golfing, the script breakdown just has a blank box with the words 'Giant Heads' written in and you'd said you'd sketch that in later. We're going to have to seamlessly maneuver the conversation to the point where we can introduce the lecture and nobody knows we didn't have anything else to do in this scene, because we already got paid by HBO and I spent it all on a rope swing over my pool." And the other guys were like, We will do it.
So Vince can't read the script. Like literally -- he comes out of the house shrieking for "E" and says he can't read it. Because, he says, he can't tell "if the script sucks," or if it's just "the sound of a jet engine" in his head. Which: both. All the time, at the same time. In my head there's just screaming. I'm starting to hate Adrian Grenier for doing this to himself. The others clearly had no other choice but I hold Adrian and Piven responsible. No, not Piven, because he's making a heroically epic effort to be the only thing that doesn't just eat ass about this whole venture. And pulling it off nicely. So it's just you, Adrian. All alone on my shitlist. So if you are wondering why I haven't mentioned Turtle in this scene? Pretend he's saying half-clever things in between every sentence I write. It all goes back to the Peloponnesian War in 431 B.C.E., which I decided in 1996 C.E. never happened, because I had too much to study and something had to go. So I avoided all classes, tests, quizzes, and questions about the alleged war and its alleged chronicler, Thucydides, and promised all and sundry I'd read the whole damn thing on winter break, and I still haven't, because I like living in a world without the Peloponnesian War. And a world without Turtle.
There's a basketball hoop in the living room. But only one bathroom in the house. As Kevin and the Peloponnesian Peace play basketball, Vince wonders aloud whether he is capable of playing a cop. Babe, if Josh Hartnett can play a cop...wait, that's kind of up for debate too. Okay, if Josh Hartnett thinks he can play a cop, what's stopping you? In response to some Peloponnesian ass-kissing, Kevin decides to bust out some more wisdom: "Cop's tough. I did four eps of Blue." And no, he's not talking about NYPD Blue, of course; he's talking about Pacific Blue, which I used to watch every Saturday night at 4 AM while I did drunken laundry. But see, we have to go there in the most circuitous route possible, so we do. Get up and walk around and go into every room of the building you're in and stand there for a while, looking at nothing, and then come back to the screen. I'll wait. Yep, it was just like that. So then things go all commedia dell'arte again and Vince turns to the screen with some marbles or socks or something stuffed in his mouth and says, "You know, for four million dollars, we could buy this house," and then Turtle takes his place on stage and exhorts the audience, "[He] only got two for [his] last movie...that's a big bump up!" Vince cannot help but be a little sexy as he looks up adoringly at "E" and asks what he thinks. Eric, of course, answers honestly: if someone is prepared to give Vince four million dollars for this movie, someone will give him the same amount for something he loves. By which, of course, he means, "I deem acceptable. Money is vulgar. You are a whore."
Total shout-out to Queens Community College! And I'm not talking about the script, either; I mean that Kevin actually says "Queens Community," in the context that two years of community college has given Eric an inflated sense of his own industry smarts. Vince's phone rings and he tells everyone to quiet down and he tells everyone it's Ari, and everyone watching is like, "WE KNOW!" but it's okay, because, after all, it is Ari. Jeremy Piven has some really, really striking blond highlights that make him look a little hotter and a lot creepier, in that Patrick Bateman way. Vince falls back on his usual alibi, that he's a little dumb, by saying he's not sure if he liked Matterhorn, because it's a little confusing. Ari starts yelling about how this movie is Vince's "artistic bar mitzvah," and what he means by that is that he is Jewish. And also that this is the man-role transition piece that will make Vince a viable and virile commodity. Vince responds in a way that suggests he is still lacking in that particular department: "Eric hates it. He says you should get me four million for something I love." I would have slapped his pretty little face for that one. He's actually trying to play them off each other, which is so dumb, because not only do they keep him alive, but it's their actual livelihoods to do so. So stupid. "What did you think of the script? Fuck Eric," Ari says dismissively. Vince, um...hands the phone to Eric. Along with his nuts.
Ari asks Eric to dinner. "Hello, sheep. I see that you are new to this field. Do you like my suit? It's real lambs wool. Let's sit down over cocktails and then I can eat you, starting with your head." Eric is taken in. "That sounds great. I love what you've done with this parlor, spider. Why don't I have a seat in this web of deceit and malice and we can discuss plans for the future. Oooh, that's a little sticky." Eric is so sweet and vulnerable and dumb here, because he actually thinks that Ari has all of sudden in the last six seconds gone to respecting Eric's opinion, out of nowhere, and wants to get his input. Kevin asks if he and the PP should go along too and Vince, perhaps sensing the fact that he just handed out his entire supply of spine, borrows it for a second to get weird and intense all in Kevin's grill: "What is this? A Sweet Sixteen?" No, it's your artistic Sweet Thirteen. And shut up, Vince. You make no sense. He hands back the spine because he's done using it for that nonsensical line. "This is my career. Let Eric handle it." So that was the punchline toward which we've been laboring since the dinner plans got made? Is that all there is to the joke? Yes. The dog has arrived.
It's barking at them in the driveway, where they've left it in its cage because, utterly predictably, it's insane. This is why I never buy dogs from my drug dealer. And the calves? Not that hot. The usual stuff with a crazy dog happens where they make kissy-kissy faces away from Vince's ass for once, and when Kevin gets close, it jumps and moves the crate and they all jump back and are all "whoa" and yell at each other and are scared and Vince rubs his scruffy chin reflectively, you know, like people always do when they're thinking, as you've seen in real life, and makes a "sneaky" face and there's a "lingerie party at the mansion on Thursday," apparently, though what lingerie and what mansion, we'll never know, and what is a lingerie party? And then the gardeners -- who are still there because they work all the time -- are watching bemusedly because the PP is wearing a hockey uniform and the boys are on a balcony and they pull a rope and the cage opens and the dog attacks Turtle and they laugh and laugh. The music for this scene is "Cold Hard Bitch," by Jet, which is almost timely but can be explained by the fact that the producers bought that album the first time they heard "Are You Gonna Be My Girl" because it was so, so awesome and catchy and original and they were afraid they'd never, ever hear it again. And the guys are still laughing. Of course, what they don't know is that while they were getting the hockey suit, I sent Halle Berry up to loosen the bolts on the balcony, so then I'm the only one laughing because they all fall down to their terrible deaths and take their last breaths in a final gay embrace, covered in blood and stucco. And then Halle Berry explains that she did it for black women, and then lists all the black women she can think of, especially her mom.
At dinner, Ari is going on and on about Japan and how he and his wife visited Sofia [Coppola, for those of us who don't own television sets or magazines or newspapers or friends] on the set of Lost -- in Translation, of course, which is again so timely because that movie came out when I was in the fifth grade -- and how it didn't really capture Japan because Japan is twice as boring in real life. They make small talk about small things. Ari is astoundingly icky as he bullies Eric into asking who he's fucking and dragging out of him that it's some Russian chick from the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, but Eric is so perfect and boring, his first guess is "Mrs. Ari?" which is adorable, and then he's not all that impressed by the truth, and Ari gets a little steamed about that. And then Eric follows up with, "I think Vince hit that, did you ask him first?" in this wickedly disingenuous way, and Ari about explodes, and then Eric starts laughing and I realize that sometimes Eric's a little mean and cool. Ari tells Eric he's a part of the team and calls him "baby" and says that if he really doesn't like the script, he can have "some hack" rewrite it -- anything to stop Eric telling Vince to reject the script. And Eric plays it like he doesn't have Vince's brain in a box somewhere and it's pissing Ari off and things are tense and Ari says, "I've got to know what you think so I can get you to think what I think, you know?" Which is kind of putting it all out there, really. Just completely ignoring the second part of that statement, as though Ari had said a well-regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, Eric starts to tell him what he thinks.
What he thinks is that it isn't good, and Ari is aghast because "it's Die Hard at Disneyland," and all the writers clap themselves on the backs because honestly, that's no sequel to The Graduate, but they so think it is. "Personally, I don't want to watch kids blowing up at Disneyland," he says. Aww. "All right, where do you want to watch them blow up?" asks Ari, hilariously. It's a serious question, for him. "Nowhere, that's the point." See, because I'm totally perfect. Eric starts to talk about how he was reading the Times, and just to clarify, that's the New York Times and not the shitty L.A. Times, because this show is a fresh new voice and boldly says what nobody else will. Ari railroads this and asks if he reads The New Republic, which of course Eric doesn't, and he says it's interesting because what it says, in fact, is that Eric doesn't "know what the fuck [you're] talking about." It's funny and a little scary because the claws are out: "The New Republic says you don't know what the fuck you're talking about!" Burn! "Mother Jones says you smell like pee!"
Eric has been living in Los Angeles for 14 months. Back in Queens, he managed an Italian restaurant. This information has been brought to you by the FYI Exposition service. Ari explains that "if I was opening a pizzeria, then you and I could work together." Ari then explains in the same neutral tone that he understands that Eric is Vince's friend and wants to protect him from making a bomb, but that while bombs don't kill careers, passing on a hit will. Which is like making a point of saying the glass is half-empty, but is also half-full, because if you pass on everything and never commit to anything, you aren't a movie star, you're Vince. Eric, just about tired of all this pizza-bashing, goes for something like the jugular but sweeter and more polite when he begs Ari not to blame him for his own inability to get his client to do what he wants. It's awesome, and it does the trick: "I resent this. I don't have dinner with people like you. I don't do it. I don't do this." He's physically angry at this point, clanging his fork against his plate. It's really quite good, this bit. If this whole show were just Eric and Ari, My Dinner with Another Stereotype, that would be awesome, because it's so, like, Art v. Commerce, Good v. Evil, Creativity v. Industry, et. al. That would be so...not TV, exactly…something like TV. I'll see if the people at HBO would be interested.
Eric watches with something very much like self-satisfaction at having pushed Ari this far as Ari explains that Hugh Jackman, for example, would not call him and say that he likes a script but has to "run it past my pizza boy" first. Ari asks what Eric could possibly know about the industry, and then things get a little...heated. It's kind of hot, to be honest, because they're both smiling and baring their teeth and kind of giggling with rage throughout all their lines. What Eric does know. 1. Two years ago Ari was "the asshole that wouldn't call Vince back." 2. If Ari ever fucking talks to him like that again, "I will slap that grin right off your face." I like this part so much. It's like if you take away everything that does not work about this show -- all the other characters, basically -- and leave the parts that are vital and interesting, this is all that's left: these two fully-formed characters played by good actors having this totally intense battle of wills in this restaurant with somewhat hushed voices. And it is good. Points off for Eric's exit line, though, delivered as he throws down his little napkin and huffs away: "This sake sucks." Better is Ari's reaction, because he doesn't drop the anger and go back to the grin like you might think: he's still very much enraged as he asks for the check and rattles off a long thank you and goodbye in this very cool, lazy Japanese.
Because you can take the man out of Queens but you can't take his hand out of his pants, Kevin and Turtle sneak up on Eric, asleep on the couch in front of the TV, with said hand down said slacks, and Kevin growls like the dog right in his ear. It sounds pretty much like Kevin's regular voice. Eric jumps, and even Kevin has to point out the whole hand-down-the-pants thing, like they've never seen it before. "Yeah," sighs Eric, "I'm jerking off to SportsCenter." About which concept I have literally nothing to say, at all. Kevin, not letting it go, points out the lady golfers on the screen as...Peloponnesia stands bucolically off to the side, certainly not simulating masturbation. Eric's tired, as am I, and says he'll tell them about the Ari meeting in the morning. But really, they don't want him to go to bed, because they're going to Vegas, even though they're going to that stupid reunion in the morning, because Black Hack hooked them up with a jet for the night, and right now Vince (remember him?) is "emptying out the safe." Eric's still not interested. I wonder if Black Hack will be like Tino and we'll never see him ever. Eric heads to bed, anyway, but gets into it with the other two Funky Bunchers when they decide to tell him that "Kristen's fucking Vince Vaughn," and he's like, she left me for (Rocco, I think) "the restaurateur," but Turtle explains that she was seen at 40 Deuce with her hand down Vince Vaughn's pants. Clarifies Kevin: "Both of them." Hee! Eric starts screaming about "Vince Vaughn, that puffy motherfucker?" and word to the infinite power, because there is no man less attractive on this planet to me than Vince Vaughn. You know I hate that swinger shit. I can't get it out of my mind. I was going to say, in all seriousness, that I thought he was pretty good in The Cell and Psycho, although maybe that was because I liked those movies so much I could ignore him, but I realized that would get me totally fired, so I didn't. I'm still on probation about the Van Der Beek thing. So Turtle and Kevin respond to the puffy motherfucker slander by going completely gay about how hot he is lately. It's kind of weird. So far, Kevin Dillon wants to sleep with Cujo and Vince Vaughn.
Did you know that Kevin is not that good of an actor? Eric has realized that they are just messing with him, and Turtle, uproariously, smacks Kevin, screaming, "You indicating motherfucker!" which is quite funny. Eric is great here, because he's still upset from before he uncovered the lie, but Turtle yells that he deserved it. Why? So he can give a speech. What's it about? You'll never know. Not from me, anyway. Because life's too short, and this recap's too long, and Turtle is pointless. Even for a character based on a friend of Marky Mark, he is pointless. Even if this were the actual friend of Marky Mark, that would be pointless, and sad too, because this way I can at least say my hate is for the character and not the person it's based on. But we all know the truth. Vince comes down and asks to talk to Eric, and Turtle yells that Eric's being a little bitch, and Eric tells Turtle that in fact it is payback that is the bitch. As Turtle will soon learn. Vince asks Eric if he threatened to beat Ari up, and Eric -- instead of saying he threatened to slap him, because Eric knows that's a little embarrassing -- responds that Ari is a prick. Vince tries to explain that Ari is his manager and that Eric cannot threaten people in Hollywood because this is not high school. Eric justifies the slapping threat with the "pizza boy" comment. Vince parries with the fact that Eric was a night manager at a Sbarros. Which is taking it over the line, I think, and it's weird because he says this like he's giving him some advice, or, like, reminding him that he once sold pizza. The architecture of Eric's self-worth is really very strange: he's "working" for Vince, as are Kevin and Turtle, but he's not Vince's manager or agent, because Ari is his agent, so...it's confusing. And it makes Eric say, "Fuck you too" and wander off, and that would be a good place to end this scene.
Instead, the scene continues into the kitchen, and Vince is all, "What do you want me to do, fire him?" And Eric's like, "Yeah, basically," and I can't tell if he's kidding, but they're both stupid enough to do it right now. Vince starts dialing, and Eric orders him to put down the phone and turns it into some weird Yoda life or object lesson about how Vince shows zero interest in his life or career and needs to step up to bat at least occasionally. And Vince says that it is hard. I'm not paraphrasing. Vince is like, "This shit is hard." And I'm like, life? And Eric is all, "So what do you want me to do, make your decisions for you?" And Adrian and Vince work together and manage to win back all of my love when he grins and his eyes sparkle as a little bit of life enters his body for the first time and he says, "I don't know, I can't decide." And it's cute and sweet. And also awesome to watch these boys in action because they play each other like, I don't know. Like with the Suzuki Method. More weird kitchen business: pouring glasses of water, eating things out of boxes. Sticking fingers in food and eating off of them. Eric's all, "Do you even know where I'd be if I had your face?" And Vince goes, "Yeah, well..." and then sticks his entire index finger into his mouth and pulls it out with this weird sound and I don't know what he was eating but it was very, um, sticky. "You don't." Vince launches himself across the kitchen at Eric and asks Eric's opinion. Because he hasn't already given it eleven times. He gives it again, and Vince is all, that's settled then. And they have a stupid conversation about how vacations aren't vacations if you're stressing during them and so, even though Vince hasn't worked in three months, his "chill" time starts now because that didn't count.
And while we're on the subject of things we've already beaten to death, is Eric going to Las Vegas? No. Even though they have the Real World suite at The Palms? Nope. Even though Kevin's bringing his UV lamp, because those bitches were so disgusting it would take more than bleach and a priest to clean that shit up? Nope. (I made that up. You can tell it wasn't part of the show proper because I tried to be funny.) Vince sparks up a bong, and somehow he's decided nobody's going to Vegas. I didn't see the part where that decision was made. "Maybe we'll bag the reunion, too," he says, but Eric wants to go. Vince is like, "You'd go without me?" And, correctly, Eric responds that he would rather go without Vince. For obvious reasons. Which we then discuss. Vince, of course, is retarded in his process of understanding fame, though, so he thinks more importantly than the fact that he would be ruining the reunion for everybody is the fact that he might be forced to fuck this "little Asian girl" that Eric used to like, Sarah Lum. "Dim Sum Lum," Vince giggles, stonedly. "Don't call her that," says Eric, but in a protective tone instead of the one he should have used, that sounds like you're saying, "You are an embarrassment to yourself and to your family when you say shit like that." Someone, I think, has briefly wrestled the director to the ground, because it's almost quality what happens . Vince goes to a weird place in his head and describes this long, lame metaphor about how his crotch is a no-fly zone and if Sarah Lum gets into his airspace she's going down. And Eric stares at him for a while, and says, "Your airspace?" And it's funny in that improv Larry Sanders way. And...scene. Back to the crappy.
Turtle is wearing his letter jacket, which still fits, because he was always fat, I guess, so that's cool, and it's tomorrow and we're packing the Hummer for the reunion. Eric asks, weirdly, "Turtle, where'd you pack the Bose headsets?" The what? The ones I told you to pick up for the flight. You didn't tell him that. Yes I did, I told you to go to the Bose store because Vince wants to listen to music and not Turtle talking. This is so boring. But Eric's yelling authoritatively, which I like, even though I don't know why or what this has to do with, which I'm guess means there's a dipshit joke shoved in here. Turtle fumbles and Eric's screaming to meet them at the airport and Turtle tries to grab his bag a couple of times and it's very awkward and his feelings are quite hurt and he gets in the Hummer and says he's only getting three headsets so that while the rest of them are "bumping Biggie" (sigh), Eric will be "humming show tunes." "My dear pot, can I offer you a delightful cup of tea? I've just made it myself. Literally. As I am a kettle." "Why yes, kettle! And how are you today? I couldn't help but call into question your masculinity." Turtle drives away, and the hilarity ensues because the bright yellow Hummer has a bumper sticker on the back that says I [HEART] Cock. It's really, really funny, right, but I don't think any of them get the joke. The real one. "Laugh it up, [Kevin]. You're ."
The phone rings. Guess who? Right. Guess why? Nope, Piven's locked in for the full season. Vince hands the phone over to Eric because he [HEARTS] accountability. "I'd like to talk to Vince." "Yeah? He'd like you to talk to me." So Ari [HEARTS] some pretty powerful rage here and almost throws his phone and almost eats his phone and almost drives over to the House without Bathrooms to shove his phone up Eric's ass. But then he realizes that he can do that from his car. "Okay, player, tell him Colin Farrell took Matterhorn," he spits, and hangs up. And then screams "FUCK YOU" at his hung-up phone and it's very stressful to watch. And also awesome, never mind the fact that basically what we're saying here is that Colin Farrell was offered this part after Vince. And yeah, probably sixteen years ago when this pilot was made to the tunes of K.C. and the Sunshine Band and like, Heart, Colin Farrell might have been up-and-coming or on the level of Vince Chase or thereabouts. But now? Just another example of how nothing makes sense in this life. Eric tells the group his news. Kevin stupidly says that Colin Farrell is a good actor. Vince hopes that "Pizza Boy" knows what he's doing. Blame Janace Tashjian, because she's the first name you see in the credits. Because this is over, which is lucky, because I am so over it. Keep in mind, however, that Piven rules, Eric is pretty cool if you shade your eyes from the glow of his halo, and Vince can always get better. Plus, Sarah Silverman in a couple of weeks. Always good. In summary, let's just say right now that we're in this together, and I can't do it without you.