I can’t say that I am pleased with the series finale. Sure, it ended happy and avoided the usual Hollywood downer ending. However, the final episode felt rushed as it tied up a few big stories in 30 short minutes. Ari (Jeremy Piven) got back together with his wife, Vince is leaving to marry Sophia (Alice Eve) and the boys helped Eric (Kevin Connolly) to get Sloan (Emanuelle Chriqui) back. In a final scene after the credit sequence we see Ari get offered the biggest job of his life, CEO of a major umbrella corporation. There is material left here for more seasons and the show didn’t even to give closure to the stories of Turtle (Jerry Ferrara) and Drama (Kevin Dillon), but I digress.

Regardless of my issues with the finale, all of Entourage’s spoiled brats grew into better people than those we first met in season one. Vince (Adrian Grenier) had many ups and downs, going from top grossing movie star to getting addicted to hard drugs and falling for porn star Sasha Grey. With the help of his friends Vince cleaned up and prevailed. Turtle and Drama grew up (ever so slightly) and slowly began to take responsibility for their lives. Eric remained the rock throughout the entire series. He was a sweet guy who always tried to do the right thing and kept all of the other characters in check. I will especially miss Eric’s verbal battles with Ari, another strong character.

Over the years, most of the character gave in to temptations that come with the fast and loose celebrity lifestyle. The difference is now Eric dealt with this, which is why he is such a pivotal character. Eric is the everyman that most of us would (hopefully) be if thrown into the Hollywood life, making mistakes but always striving to do good. Contrary to his friends, it is Eric that has a moral conscience, truly regretting all of his mistakes instead of laughing them off like the others do. The final season saw Eric giving up his agency in LA to live in New York to help his wife raise their child after she decided to move away.  It would be difficult to imagine Turtle, Drama or Vince doing that.

The same can be said about Ari, who is a verbally abusive talent super-agent that truly tries to do good. Over the years we were able to peel back some layers of Ari’s life, seeing how much he loves his family and that his dominating, arrogant presence has less to do with his ego and more to do with his difficulty to express how he really feels (i.e. his appreciation for his family and for his die-hard assistant turned agent Lloyd). In fact, several times we’ve seen a very broken Ari when his work drastically affects his family. Like Eric, Ari is also a moral man (remember his great rant to Adam Davies about business ethics), though he often hides behind a tough-guy mask that usually gets him in trouble. Surrounded by beautiful celebrities, Ari never cheated on his wife. When she left him for Bobby Flay, Ari couldn’t manage a relationship with Dana Gordon (Constance Zimmer), who was a great match, because he still loved his wife.

Looking back, I see my interest in Entourage similar to my love of movies about movies. Sometimes they can be a little self-indulgent but they also have the potential to give us a unique window into Hollywood. Of course, this window only shows us what the insiders will allow us to see. What makes Entourage different is that it took us from Hollywood and Los Angeles to New York City, Columbia (for their filming of Medellien), Cannes (for the Cannes Film Festival) and Park City, Utah (for the Sundance Film Festival) as well as on to numerous studios and films sets the offered great cameos.

In addition, the show for me is less about hedonism (as the LA Times suggests) than it is about dealing with how people would handle fame, money, and the Hollywood life if put in that position. To the casual viewer it may appear that Vince – the movie star – is the main character, however, that really isn’t the case. Vince is simply the reason his friends had stayed in LA (since he bailed each of them out of numerous occasions) and the catalyst for the show. However, Eric and Ari are the characters that drew me and many others to the show.

Entourage, on its surface, was about a few guys who had a bunch of money fall into their lap and indulged in “the good life.” However, for those viewers who chose to read a little deeper, it wasn’t that simple. The two (arguably) main characters were not hedonists; they were two men who fought hard to not become the typical amoral Hollywood sleaze. Their story, more than anything, represents the American Dream. Hollywood itself was built from outsiders who came from nothing, moved West, and made something of their life. The boys from Entourage had a similar journey, coming from humble beginnings in Queens, moving to Hollywood following the lead of their successful friend Vince. Both Eric and Turtle, who began as freeloaders, grew into successful businessmen who could stand on their own two feet.  

The boys from Queens came from nothing and collectively accomplished a great deal, though each in their own unique way. According to The Hollywood Reporter, show creator Doug Ellin will begin writing a script for a film version of Entourage in the next six months. Hopefully this will make series fans happier than the uncomfortably rushed finale. Until then, Entourage regulars will have to spend their Sunday nights hugging it out with back episodes on DVD and Blu-ray.

Heat (1995) is more than just a heist film – it’s an epic, a shambling three-hour monster of a movie that soars and frustrates, leaves your jaw hanging in awe and you scratching your head wondering what the hell is going on.  The star power it unleashes is literally unparalleled, the direction by Michal Mann is superb, the music is incredible (go buy the soundtrack now), and the cinematography creates a vision of Los Angeles that is more real than the reality.

—–

I will not insult your manhood by recapping the plot.  Actually, it’s so dense and convoluted it would take forever anyway.  Plus, there are the tangents that I still don’t fully get – what the hell is that whole Natalie Portman subplot doing in there anyway?  And some parts you just have to see for yourself – think Waingro’s plot line.  Bottom line: if you have never seen Heat, go buy it immediately.  Until you do, if you are biologically male, you are not entitled to stand while urinating.

For many of us, Heat has a personal connection that comes from both its time and place.  I saw Heat in Houston the day it came out (December 15, 1995), having been waiting for it for months thanks to the remarkable trailer.  I was there for a buddy’s wedding the next day; at that wedding, I would meet my hot wife for the first time.  About a month after, the giant law firm I was then slaving away for moved into the 444 South Flower building.  You probably know it best as the bank De Niro’s crew robs.  Before I quit (I had more business than many of the partners but they offered me the same crappy $500 bonus they gave to the guy caught sleeping under his desk, so I counter-offered that I’d keep everything), I must have walked past the spot where Val Kilmer first opens up with his CAR-15 a hundred times thinking, “Dude, I know where you’re coming from.”

But even if the movie might not be wrapped around your life as it is mine, it’s likely to have hit you at some deeper level.  Heat is a man’s film in a very true way – it’s about loyalty, honor, and commitment.  It brooks no compromise – the men in it must do what they must do regardless of the cost and regardless of their personal feelings.  Al Pacino’s Vincent Hanna gives up his potential for a normal life because Robert De Niro’s Neil McCauley must be stopped.  And De Niro’s McCauley gives up his chance too because he owes it to his dead buddies to see that Waingro pays for his betrayal.

These are men who live this code.  They don’t whine.  They don’t talk about their feelings.  They don’t make excuses.  They are everything our liberal culture despises – real men, even if not necessarily good men.  And they sure as hell don’t buy into that “COEXIST”/“Violence Never Solves Anything” crap.

These men walk to their fates heads held high, knowing their ends are the results of their choices and accepting the responsibility for the consequences.  I’d take a Neil McCauley over a Harry Reid and his liberal ilk in a heartbeat – they both pillage money from decent folks, but at least McCauley doesn’t wrap it in sanctimony and pretend he’s something else.

The film’s classic set piece – one of many classic set pieces – is the high intensity bank heist and shoot-out scene on downtown Los Angeles’s Fifth Street.  Let me throw this out there: it’s the best gunfight in the history of the cinema.

—–

Watch Val Kilmer in particular.  Now, director Michael Mann had former SAS operators train the cast on weapons and tactics, and Kilmer really took to it.  Check him out as he pivots, fires a short(ish), controlled burst, then pivots again and engages a new target.  When he runs out of ammo, watch him drop the empty mag, slap in a new one, and re-engage in about a second.  That’s some nice suppressive fire there, Tex.

And listen to the sound effects – Mann understood the effect of the shock of the noise from the gunfire (especially in an enclosed space surrounded by skyscrapers) and cranked up the volume.  You feel every burst of fire.

Interestingly, Heat is a remake of Mann’s 1989 TV movie L.A. Takedown, a nearly forgotten flick made on about a thousandth of the budget.  Most of the key elements are there, including much less awesome versions of the bank shootout and the famous Pacino/De Niro coffee scene (the Heat scene was filmed at Kate Mantalini in Hollywood – you can sit at the same table).

The cast is remarkable not just because of the big stars but the ones filling in the supporting roles.  William Fichter is great as a scumbag businessman.  Henry Rollins, taking a break from bad slam poetry and punk rock, is a terrific petty criminal.  Danny Trejo is in the house too – he has a great death scene.

One guy who stands out is Big Hollywood’s own Jon Voight as Nate, the crew’s sickly fixer and voice of reason.  I saw him and, frankly, thought Voight was about to die.  I mean, he looks like he’s at death’s door – which is a tribute to Voight’s power as an actor.  You see him in Heat and come out thinking he needs either an Oscar or an IV or maybe both.

Hell, Jeremy Piven is in it for about a minute as a squirrely doctor and even he’s great.  Yeah, that Piven!

And the dialogue is alternately funny, harsh, and (again) true.  Michael Mann’s words take the cast’s work to the next level, elevating it into the iconosphere.  You could go an entire day speaking in nothing but cool lines from the movie.

Finally, there is the music.  Much of it is electronic, giving the film a kind of tech noir vibe that works perfectly.  Of special note is the Moby(!) cover of Joy Division’s ominous New Dawn Fades that plays while Hanna roars down the I-105 freeway after Cauley.  And a Moby original, the soaring God Moving Over the Face of the Waters, plays over the climax and the credits.  Who would have thunk it – a pinko, vegan twerp like Moby making some of the most amazing music ever on screen in a flick like Heat?

Now, if you’ve read this far and have not gone to get your Heat DVD, or went out to buy a DVD, or borrowed a DVD from someone much cooler than you, I’m not sure I can help you.  Heat is one of the rare movies that is truly essential – a movie that tells basic truths that many people don’t want to acknowledge and that strikes a common chord in its fans so that it has become a part of the American male canon.

To paraphrase De Niro’s Neil, you must have nothing in your life that will prevent you from seeing Heat in 30 seconds flat.

 
—–

Jeremy Piven is at his pre-Ari Gold best as Droz, something like a seventh year senior at Port Chester University college who is the unofficial leader of a group of campus misfits who live in a former fraternity house known as The Pit.

It’s a former frat house because fraternities have been banned from PCU, and the residents of The Pit are misfits because they are, gasp, regular people.

They are a collection of individuals, completely at odds with campus groups whose bonds are the result of a supposed shared identity, i.e., the radical feminists (the Womynists), the rich white guys (Balls and Shaft). Navigating the campus requires moving through a maze of protests and counter protests. The college president, Ms. Garcia-Thompson, is obsessed with multiculturalism and diversity, at one point suggesting that the Bi-Sexual Asian Studies program should have its own building on campus. The irony is, of course, that the denizens of the Pit are the most diverse group on campus.

This is pretty funny, relevant stuff, but the movie never becomes hilarious. Port Chester University is based on Wesleyan University, a ripe target for satire, but the story never really rises above good-natured ribbing. Droz schools Tom, “These, Tom, are the Causeheads. They find a world-threatening issue and stick with it for about a week,”  and then abandons him, but by the end, Tom decides he wants to come to PCU and live in the Pit.

David Spade oozes smarm and entitlement as Rand McPherson, the leader of Balls and Shaft. Jon Favreau is amusing as a paranoid stoner. The weak link is Tom, a bland protagonist who is pretty much just…there.

Like”Entourage,” the movie is at its best when it allows Piven to cut loose:

“I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but there actually was music recorded before 1989.”

“You’re wearing the t-shirt of the band you’re going to see? Don’t be. That guy.”

“We need kegs. Multiple, cold, and domestic.”

Ultimately, the movie boils down to a “Let’s whip this place into shape and put on a show!” finale that felt fresher when Breakin’ 2: Electric Boogaloo stole the idea. Worse, the wackadoo groups on campus mobilize and realize their true shared enemy is none other than…Conservative White Men! This predictable turn mars everything that’s come before it, but the movie is still worth renting for a chuckle or two.

Weigh in below, bearing in mind that in coming up with movies to write about, I’ve come to realize that while I had fun at the movies in 1994, calling it the best year ever is not hyperbole. Indeed,  it’s horseshit, for reasons I will cover in my final column on the subject next week.

Network shows often struggle to stay relevant after a few seasons, and even HBO’s iconic series “The Sopranos” couldn’t maintain its level of excellence over time. A few minutes into the first new “Entourage” episode shows the male-bonding formula is getting dog tired.

Vince Chase (Adrian Grenier) is shooting a new action film, but the director’s demand for him to do his own stunts leaves him torn. Does he risk bruising his manhood, the coin of the realm in his buddy quartet, or does he go ahead knowing he could put his career – and well being – at risk?

Meanwhile, Turtle (Jerry Ferrara) is learning that life as a small business owner isn’t a breeze. His prettiest driver can’t make an airport run without getting lost, but he doesn’t have the heart to can her. And Drama (Kevin Dillon) is still struggling to find that elusive TV gig to call his own.

Haven’t we seen it all before, particularly Drama’s career woes?

Super agent Ari (Jeremy Piven) seems too self-satisfied to deliver his standard slow burns.

But don’t give up on the new season just yet. The second new episode provided to the press is vintage “Entourage,” reminding us why we flocked to the show in the first place. The dialogue snaps, the jokes hit the mark and even Drama’s acting woes feel fresh. Best of all, Vince’s brush with death leaves him with a new outlook on life.

The sudden change affects everyone in his A-list orbit, a theme which holds promise for the rest of the season.

Welcome back, guys.

The new season also features real-life director Nick Cassavetes (“She’s So Lovely,” “John Q”) hamming it up as Vince’s foul-mouthed director. And don’t miss another Bob Saget cameo, as the “Full House” comic draws some laughs with only a few terse lines.

HBO has struggled to replace iconic series like “Sex and the City,” “The Wire” and “The Sopranos.” And while “Entourage” never stood as tall those three shows, it remains the kind of lightweight adult fare you won’t find anywhere else on the dial – if you catch it on the right night.

Nathan Lane and John Goodman are selling tickets hand over fist for their revival of “Waiting for Godot” but neither received the honor of a nomination.  Same with David Hyde Pierce, Frank Langella, Mary Louise Parker and Matthew Broderick. 

It was no surprise that Jeremy Piven was included out of the Best Actor category after his famous sushi defense for missing performances in David Mamet’s “Speed-the-Plow,” but not honoring John Lithgow’s brilliant turn in “All My Sons” in the same category is a crime against humanity!  It ranks up there with the snub of Dustin Hoffman as Willy Loman in the 1984 revival of “Death of a Salesman.” Brian Dennehy was honored with the Best Actor award when he did Willy Loman in 2000, but that goodwill did not anoint him worthy of a nomination this year for his turn in “Desire Under the Elms.” 

Add to the list of the egregiously overlooked: Diane Wiest, Kristin Scott Thomas, Daniel Radcliffe, Tovah Feldshuh, Joan Allen, Jeremy Irons, Rupert Everett, Christine Ebersol, Patrick Wilson, Susan Sarandon and Katie Holmes. 

As an industry, Broadway seems to take an odd pride in the moniker “The Fabulous Invalid” and I have lamented this mindset on these pages before.  Broadway’s ability to eat its young and snatch defeat from the jaws of victory has become legendary and not a little bit annoying. 

Here we are at the end of a season where the biggest headline was about how horrible things are on Broadway and how every show is closing and how there are nothing but empty theatres, and right when the industry has a chance to turn that story around and promote the fact that not only has every theatre been occupied but incredibly high-wattage stars have come out to perform live in intimate, beautiful theatres, they turn around and kill their own lead. 

Wouldn’t it have been great to have a nationally televised theatre awards show with ratings better than an NHL playoff game? 

Now, I understand the argument that everyone can’t be nominated, and I recognize that some pretty big names were honored like Jeff Daniels, Geoffery Rush, Marcia Gay Harden, Jane Fonda, Stockard Channing, John Glover and Angela Lansbury.  But, really, if the industry is in the trouble they say it’s in, and you have a chance to showcase Daniel Radcliffe, Katie Holmes (and maybe Mr. Holmes?) and Rupert Everett on national television as honored performers from the prior season, shouldn’t you figure out a way to do it? 

Here’s a modest proposal:  Expand the acting categories!  Where is it written in stone that there should only be five nominees for each category?  In some pretty thin years in the not-too-distant past they have nominated LESS than five in some categories.  (I know that the doom-sayers on Broadway all think that this is the worst it’s ever been, but seriously, in 1989 the THREE nominees for Best Musical were “Jerome Robbins’ Broadway”, “Black and Blue” and “Starmites”!).  So in a crappy year, they change the rules and only nominate three, but in a year packed with stars, they hold to the arbitrary five nominee rule and the story becomes “Who Got Snubbed”.  It makes no sense at all. 

I know that none of this seems to follow a “Right versus Left” storyline that many of you may be used to here at Big Hollywood, but hang in there with me for a few more thoughts.  The fact is, the left on Broadway (meaning the vast majority of actors, designers and staffers in the production offices) relish the fact that they give a big “up yours” to the Hollywood types who dare to come to Broadway.  In this context, the Hollywood actors are “rich” and the New York theatre people are the poor, starving artists giving up riches for their craft.  They want to see the Hollywood star fail.  It’s classic class warfare, just like it is played out in the political world of America. 

The same mentality that celebrates the increased taxes on “The Rich” and rails against “Big Pharma” and “Big Oil” yet fails to recognize the damage done to our society when these productive members of our economy are punished by ever-burdensome taxes and regulations is at play when they watch in bitchy glee as Hollywood movie stars are snubbed in favor of a “real” actor from their ranks.  But they fail to realize that those Hollywood hacks are the ones who are selling the tickets and keeping the “Theatre Community” employed.  If Hollywood actors ever get the message and stop risking rejection and embarrassment by performing on Broadway, it will just mean more unemployment for the theatre purists. 

But, that’s OK, they’ll just blame Middle America for not being smart or cultured enough to truly appreciate Thomas Sadoski in “Reasons to be Pretty” instead of wanting to see Tom Cruise’s wife or that guy from “3rd Rock From the Sun.” 

Stage Right is on Facebook.

It was the performance of Jeremy Piven’s life. Last week, he tearfully persuaded five fellow actors that he was deathly ill from mercury poisoning due to his lifelong love of sushi – and not merely slacking off with Britney – when he abruptly walked away from the Broadway production of “Speed-the-Plow.’’ I predict future actors will have “no raw fish” clauses attached to their contracts. Entire A-list restaurants will tremble at the loss of high-profile business. On the bright side, fish will live.

Piven dodged a financial bullet by pleading his case to a grievance committee of Actor’s Equity. He could not escape the hilarity that ensued over his fishy tale. As “Plow’’ playwright David Mamet joked to the New York Post’s Michael Riedel, “My understanding is he is leaving show business to pursue a career as a thermometer.’’

This is why Piven is my latest “Celebutard of the Week,’’ in keeping with my new book, Celebutards: The Hollywood Hacks, Limousine Liberal and Pandering Politicians Who Are Destroying America.

Piven got in trouble with producers of the Broadway show in December, who allege that he’s just another spoiled, egotistical (or is that redundant?) Hollywood jerk. Two months into the show’s run, Piven, who won three consecutive Emmy awards co-starring as hyperactive agent Ari Gold in HBO’s “Entourage,’’ simply refused to show up onstage for his lead role, plunging the $3.5 million production into chaos and upsetting co-stars Raul Esparza and Elisabeth Moss of “Madmen” fame. 

The Great White Way is not nursery school. Nor is it pampered Hollywood. Hard-working thespians and hoofers tend to look askance at people who’ve grown too big for their britches, even if their seams are busted by excessive quantities of uncooked seafood.  Producers of “Plow’’ brought Piven up on charges with the actor’s union, claiming that Piven’s abrupt departure hurt the play. Piven had simply told producers he was sick and hopped the first flight back to Los Angeles, announcing he wasn’t coming back. Actors simply don’t do this. When they get sick, they are expected to negotiate their returns to the plays they leave.

Of course, Piven’s well-documented days and nights of hard partying did not sit well with cast mates or crew (the guy crashed Britney Spears’ birthday party!) Also, as The Post reported, Piven called several prominent actors in the days before he hightailed it out of Broadway, begging them to take over his role. And still, the show managed to end its run in February in the black.

Piven was so concerned about the effect the hoopla might have on the remainder of his career, he traveled to the dreaded Theater District last week to tell the Equity committee of five actors and five producers that his problem was mercury coursing through his bloodstream, and not other substances.  Piven contends the mercury level in his blood was five times normal, and he risked having a heart attack if he stayed. He cried before the committee deciding his fate, proving he still has his acting chops intact. The actors took his side. The producers did not. Without a unanimous verdict, the producers were screwed.

He wasn’t finished. Piven immediately took his case to no less an authority than The New York Times. Sitting for an interview as a publicist babysat, he twice broke into tears and quoted the Obama administration’s warning about mercury pollution as a national threat. He also quoted the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., “No lie can last forever.’’ It had something to do with his ruined reputation.

Now, the whole mess goes to arbitration, where producers will continue to try to get restitution

Piven’s stage career, by the way, is kaput. His Tony award, once considered a lock, is up for grabs. I wonder if raw fish – or Britney – was worth it..