"You're amazing, Vince."
"You ain't seen nothin' yet."
Yes, yes I have. I've seen plenty.
So there you have it. Entourage is over and will forever be known in history as the show that had its series finale on the tenth anniversary of 9/11. It was a simpler time, when men were pretty boys, tortured men had beards, Scott Caan had the vertical hair of one Paul from Tekken, and everyone smiled at each other's silly little witticisms because that's just such an [INSERT NAME OF PERSON SAYING THE THING] thing to say!
For those of you who care only enough to read this article but haven't cared enough to watch the show—congratulations, I envy you. Here's the quick rundown of what the end of Entourage wrought:
- E is back with Sloan.
- Ari is back with his wife about whom I never cared enough to learn her name.
- Vince is with some beautiful and intelligent and SANE woman with a British accent OR SOME ACCENT I DON'T KNOW HOW TO TELL WHAT ACCENTS ARE.
- Drama likes da pusssaaaaaayyy.
- Lloyd is still working as an agent at the company Ari just quit and gave over to Babs via yelling.
- Billy Walsh appeared long enough for me to be like, "Remember the fake penis?"
- Everyone lied to everyone else, and somehow, this qualifies as resolution.
About that last point: So basically, the episode was just a way for each character to have a little moment to themselves, and most of them did so by talking to Sloan on E's behalf. When Vince decides to go off to Paris that night to get married, he takes it upon himself to ensure Sloan joins the crew. First he sends Turtle and Drama, who flat out lie to Sloan about E's relationship with Melinda. Then Vince goes and doesn't necessarily lie so much as he lies. Then he rents E his own private plane that'll take E and Sloan anywhere in the world for as long as they want. But hey, at least their relationship is back on a nice solid foundation of lying.
Ari is, of course, back with whatsherfacetheonefromOldSchool because he finally did what she's always wanted: gave up everything for her. And his kids, too. He quit the company because his daughter discovered an opera group that's supremely talented, and he realized that his kids were the most important thing in his life. So important, in fact, that when his daughter told him she was excited to see him later that night, he said something to the effect of, "I'm excited to see you too, sweetie." You know, like fathers do? Well, crappy fathers who lie to their kids and jet-set off to Paris. BROKEN PROMISES.
Here's something else that's incredible about "The End": I've already summed up the entire plot. That was it! I know what you're thinking: "Steve, what about the—"
Let me stop you right there, because we all know there isn't anything you were actually wondering. And anything else of any importance was swept under the rug like so much Mark Cuban face putty. What's going to happen to Eric and Sloan's baby? Eh, who knows, they'll figure it out when they get to New York. Wait, didn't Terrence vow to destroy E's life? Eh, who hasn't? But c'mon, Scott asked Eric at least five times whether or not he was quitting the business, right? He sure did!
When Entourage debuted, part of its appeal was that it was a satire with a sense of humor about itself. It wanted to poke fun at Hollywood by demonstrating not just how vapid and uninteresting it all was, but how damn seriously everyone took it. Vince was occasionally part of the problem, too, because of course he was: That was the point! But right around the time Entourage started rehashing old tropes ("Vince better get this movie, or it's all over!" repeated until Herc from The Wire showed up), Vince stopped being the butt of the joke. Actually, there wasn't much of a joke anymore; there was a series of "witty" things, but it didn't amount to much. It's like saying the only purpose of Twitter is comedy, just because you happen to follow a couple of comedians. Entourage completely lost sight of what it was, and as a result, Vince became inoffensive. He became nothing more than a bankroller for everyone's wacky adventures (with boobs), and no one could badmouth him for it, so they just didn't badmouth him, period.
That last exchange, reprinted at the top of this article, is so infuriating. It boils Entourage down to the simple fact that these boys joined Vince's entourage, and good things came of their affiliation with a famous movie star who is rich. I'm thrilled a show like Entourage finally had the guts to articulate what everyone else in Hollywood was too afraid to say. And it only took ruining Adrian Grenier's career to do it.