“Disclosure Day” had a great premiere last night at Lincoln Center’s David Koch Theater.
Universal went all out, taking over the Plaza and building a huge complex for media.
Is there an after party, I asked the young lady who handed me my tickets?
“No,” she said. “There is no after party.”
When the movie was over — it was very good — several people I knew asked me, “Will I see you at the party?”
Of course, I said ‘yes.’ Among Hollywood people, always say ‘yes.’
We followed them outside and around the media structure to Lincoln Restaurant, a glass enclosed architectural wonder. It was already packed with guests, and a line formed at the door.
The producer of the movie came along on this very breezy, comfortable night. I said, “There seems to be a party.”
She replied, “There is no party. Steven’s just having a few friends over.”
I said, “There are two hundred and fifty people in that restaurant.”
She repeated, “There is no party.” Her husband, an amiable man, looked confused. He said, shrugging, “I don’t know. I’m not in your business. I’m a doctor.”
My brother, who was my companion for the night, spotted a friend who has a fairly substantial role in the film. They shook hands and there were congratulations.
We asked, “Are you going to the party?” The friend replied, “I’m not invited but I’m sure I’ll get in.”
A couple of hours later, the friend left a voicemail for my brother. “I couldn’t get in. They said no.”
By this time, I was famished. And the Knicks were playing. So I ambled over to PJ Clarke’s, got the one empty seat at the crowded bar, and had a chicken pot pie on the advice of two young women who told me they were working on a Broadway musical.
In short order, the actor Paul Dano, wearing a red cap, wandered in and we started talking. The party — which wasn’t taking place — was too much for him. “It was very hot in there. I wanted to see the game.”
On Wednesday, Paul Dano is moderating a Q&A, he told me, for Julian Schnabel’s new movie, “In the Hand of Dante,” at the Tribeca Film Festival. (You may recall my review of “Dante” from the winter.) God willing, I will be at home, on a couch, watching the Knicks come back from Trump sleeping through last night’s game in person and jinxing them.
Several more people from the non party came through the door. One of them was my friend, Bob Gazzale, who runs the American Film Institute in Los Angeles, with his wife. They also escaped the heat and “a very crowded restaurant” that was too much for them, as well. Soon, PJ Clarke’s was filled with people who felt the same way.
As for the actor who couldn’t talk his way into an after party for a movie he is seen in a lot, life will go on. As for the producer who insisted there was no party as we stood in front of it, all I could think of was Lynda Obst’s famous book title, “Hello, He Lied.”
And the chicken pot pie? A plus.
