Life—that dull assemblage of extras smiling blandly through their day jobs as shopgirls and bartenders and would-be rappers, murmuring so as not to disrupt the foreground dialogue—finally sprang to meaningful action last night, as Warner Bros. handed a green light to a movie version of HBO’s Entourage, a decision that could only have taken place within the vacuum of Entourage, meaning that the whole world is now officially an episode of Entourage. “The audience just can’t get enough Vinnie Chase, and we’re gonna give it to them!” an anonymous Warner Bros. executive exclaimed of the No. 1 movie star in this no-longer-make-believe world, whom everyone demands to see more of, always, whether he’s Aquaman or starring in Martin Scorsese’s The Great Gatsby, or simply being himself as an actor who’s incredibly talented and in-demand, but mostly just chills out by giving money to his dumb friends.
“Oh yeahhhhh!” the birds sang outside the studio windows. “Oh yeahhhhh!”
Upon hearing the news that Vince was doing the movie—with director Doug Ellin ready to take charge of a screenplay that had so graciously already been written for him, made even easier by the fact that life itself is now an Entourage movie—the studio moved on to the most fascinating part of moviemaking, besides hanging out and having fun parties: brokering the deals. Was Vince really gonna do the movie, or would porn stars and comically oversized bags of cocaine get in the way? As the Earth prepared to ponder all of this all over again for a minimum of 12 weeks, the Entourage entourage rallied ’round and readied themselves to weather whatever storm may come, before everything was resolved at the last minute in the least dramatic way possible.
A red-faced Jeremy Piven shouted withering putdowns at his closet of double-breasted suits, all of them gay cocksuckers who are gay. Kevin Dillon got back into the mindset of being a lesser-known sibling to a famous movie star whose sole credit is a forgettable TV show by walking outside for a while. An out-of-practice Jerry Ferrara stuffed clams inside a pair of sneakers, muttering that something wasn’t right. Kevin “E.” Connol-E practiced holding his cell phone; “Slooooooannn?” he croaked, his voice a rusty winch slowly cranking to life after a long, neglectful winter. Kanye West refueled his jet. Famous people continued being famous.
The rest of the populace hit their marks, grinning inscrutably into the distance as they awaited their cue to begin hanging out and having fun parties, so that the guys from Entourage could also hang out and have a fun party. They waited. Then, from the heavens came the celebratory sound of clinking beer bottles—God’s marker that said we were now rolling on Entourage: The Movie, His new covenant he’d signed with the world only after getting points on the back-end, and other random industry terms haphazardly inserted. “I hath a feeling it’s gonna be a good summer,” He boomed in His mighty voice. He called, “Action.”
Everything worked out.
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