It takes a lot for a show to make its way into someone’s television date book. An appreciation and trust that what you’re going to experience is worth the time spent away from the rest of your life. For “Entourage,” that simply hasn’t been the case the last two seasons. Even though I watched them, they were so bad that I didn’t care to set the season pass reminder on my DVR this year and forgot about the opening episode. I’ve been watching with the On Demand option ever since. And boy am I glad that I have been.
You see, much like the deadbeat relative in your life, shows are given extra chances and special consideration to impress themselves upon you after they’ve fallen out of favor. Some shows, when given this chance, fail to recapture the spark that initially drew you to their glow in the first place, while others show just enough of their past self to get you going again. This season of “Entourage” has gotten back to the key elements that made it great in the first place: the trials of “making it,” credible camaraderie and, of course, gratuitous nudity and spending of millions dollars which extenuates just how much different their world is from ours. It’s all back. The show is starting to reclaim its vigor.
In fact, with each passing week’s show I’ve been more and more inclined to approach it as I had in the past – with that enthusiasm discussed earlier that we only reserve for our favorite shows. You know how when you drink too much of a certain beverage there’s that chance that you can never drink that drink again without those memories? Sometimes even the mere word (let alone the smell) is enough to induce the tickle on your uvula that forces you to the point where you plot out your exit strategy in case there’s no going back? Nobody likes those nights. And we all know shows that are the equivalent to those nights (cough, “Heroes. Cough, Jack and Cokes). Shows that were once brilliant but suddenly thought too hard, or became too lazy (or both) and killed any chance it had of survival. “Entourage” was close to being neck deep in someone else’s garbage can on a hot Saturday morning wishing it had never had the fun at all the night before because the pain wasn’t worth it the next morning… (Hmm, maybe you shouldn’t mix metaphors either?)
However, then there are those special nights where maybe you did go overboard, but you either don’t have any objection to the drink the next time, or you make yourself get over it because you know you’re gonna want to partake again. Only this time you dial it down and focus on what made the drink good in the first place. That seems to be the more likely road “Entourage” has taken. Like I said, it has rediscovered (maybe refocused) that initial playfulness that made us all excited to spend some time with it. If it keeps this up, it may even reclaim the douche bags that think it’s cool to have their theme song as their ringtone? It might be that good again. (We’ve all tried or thought about having it as a ringtone, but only those special d-bags think it’s a good long-term idea.)
This season, the idea of “making it” is different than it was before. They’re no longer no-names throwing themselves against the wall and seeing what sticks. Last season they wanted all of the characters to mature and evolve. Which is great, but I’m not sure the show’s creators initially answered the question of the story arc as to how you create conflict if your immature characters all of the sudden become powerful industry leader that have their shit figured out. The answer? Make them realize that there’s more to figure out. Only this time, since they are actually famous and in charge, there’s less time for forgiveness. They’re big time in Hollywood now and can’t get away with the same stuff. There’s Twitter and Facebook and YouTube and Blogs that are out incessantly to bring them down sometimes for no other reason than to just bring them down. There are more responsibilities when you’re on top to stay there.
The writers seemed to have figured it out, though.
They’ve made Vince a meaningful catalyst again completely connected to everyone else’s life. They are, after all, his entourage.
Vince should drive the show. And we should care about his successes and failures because they are tied to his friend’s successes and failures. But we need more to care about than whether or not he cuts his hair. Unless him cutting his hair is the beginning of his destruction. Now that’s something we wanna see play out. Remotes in hand and our comfortable spots reclaimed in hopes of welcoming back that quirky relative we always knew had it in them to be great again.
I love the dark side of Vince that’s being shown this year. I love that his care-free attitude – while often refreshing and relatable because most of us watching are hopeful in thinking that given the opportunity to make millions and hang out with our friends, we would approach it that same way – is getting him and (perhaps more importantly) the people he loves into trouble. This is the type of storytelling that drives back viewers. That makes them remember that they care about these characters. This is what connects their stories to those of us watching at home. We too can sympathize with literally or figuratively “hitting bottom.” And now we all want to see how they survive this because, in the end, they’re our entourage too.
… Of course, having them live lavishly and surrounded by insanely hot, naked women helps too.
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