“This is a construction party,” said Richie Notar, Nobu's general manager. “Because we're still training our staff.”

Although Nobu 57 is officially set to open during the first week of August, the curious pedestrians loitering on 57th Street between Fifth and Sixth avenues who peered in through the two-story window can certainly attest to the construction's completion. Entering past a curvy Botero sculpture—which had been hastily installed just before last week's fête—guests meandered through a downstairs bar, over stone floors whose inlaid curves mimicked the flow of a writhing river.

“Whereas the old Nobu was more interested in landscape, the new Nobu is more interested in fluidity—in the image of a river,” said shaggy-haired architect David Rockwell. He illustrated this idea by running his fingers through the air, as if leaning over the edge of a boat and pulling them through water.

Nobu 57's lucky diners will beach at the sake bar downstairs. It's composed of three slices of the same walnut tree, and fig martinis look very pretty on it. Antique Japanese sake jars—$5,000 per—are strung with handmade rope two floors above them. Opposite the bar, low silk couches squat below chandeliers that waver with every clinked glass. “They're made with baby abalone shells,” a hostess said.

After cocktails, the culinary upstream passes along the grand central staircase of warm cherrywood. “Here, wherever you go, things feel good and don't just look good,” said Mr. Rockwell. “For instance, we covered the stair railings with soft leather. We invented new materials like scorched ash—scorched with a blowtorch.”

“Obviously, I'm in love with New York and that theatrical dimension of New York,” said Mr. Rockwell, “and I'm interested in the relationship between theater and architecture. In this restaurant, more so than the downtown Nobu, we're interested in theater and procession.”

Speaking of the theatrical, the super-fun and Miami-tan ringmaster Mr. Notar was decked out for the evening in a delirious white suit. “I'd love uptown to be a little bit more of an event! I'm not looking to have guys come in with backwards hats and cutoffs,” he said. “Some days you feel like wearing sneakers, other days your Gucci loafers.”

Mr. Notar would like to merge downtown Nobu with Next Door Nobu to make a larger space, open to first-come, first-serve diners. “It's like what they say when you have a new baby,” Mr. Notar said: “Pay more attention to the 2-year-old.

“We're going to make it less aggressive. This will become more high-class than downtown,” Mr. Notar continued, speaking of 57th Street. “I think a lot of the wealthier people will be popping in: ladies who lunch, power tables with businessmen, tourists walking through New York, the bluebloods, the ladies who're shopping at Bergdorf, Condé Nast …. ” Hey, lunch is on Graydon Carter!

It's true that the power lunch is sexier than ever—and, of course, the 40 West 57th Street office tower above the restaurant houses offices for ICM. Hey, lunch is on Jeffrey Berg!

The menu includes Nobu's signature dishes, as well as a new shabu-shabu section and dishes smoked in a wood-burning oven. “If you've been a fan of our food, you have to try the new one,” Mr. Notar said. “In the 11 years we've been open, we've had an incredibly eclectic crowd. We could have the Lauders at one table—and Jay-Z at the other table. And they're having just as good a time as a rapper.”

But who sat where, gentlemen? “One issue in the old restaurant was that everyone wanted the best table,” Mr. Rockwell sighed. “And there was no best table, and everyone had a different idea about what the best table was. Here, we addressed that by creating several areas—each as good as the rest.”

Directly to the right of the stairs, one of several intimate booths sheltered Mr. De Niro. These are closest to the kitchen. On the second floor, diners can choose to moor at the long and low glass sushi bar. Behind the bar stools, several more booths mark off a ring of free-floating tables that lie just at the prow of the staircase: Surely these are the prime seating for the preening set.

But further back, an illuminated screen of palm fronds marks off the rearmost area, where, tonight, every table is marked “reserved.” To each person who kissed Mr. Rockwell on the cheek, he remarked: “Those tables in the back that say ‘reserved'—those are reserved for me. Just sit down.” Mr. Notar pulled out a reserved chair. Standing on it, he swished his hand along the ceiling (which, oddly enough, swished back). “This is my favorite; this is the greatest,” he said. “What do you think this is? It's made of sea urchins!”

But seriously, c'mon: What's really the best table? Mr. Rockwell, when asked what his own favorite table might be, let his democratic veneer fall away: “Definitely the V.I.P. table, with a hibachi grill.”

Yes, said Mr. Notar. And: “It's not going to be cheap.”

While the rest of the second floor is walled with terrazzo inlaid with cross-sections of bamboo, this private table is marked off from the main dining area with a thin glass wall.

Which means that many of us may end up glassed out of Nobu 57's V.I.P. hibachi grill. But the good news is that there's another just a hundred yards away, in the very same building, at a dark, moody restaurant that's also two stories tall: Benihana!

Is Nobu fretting over the competition? “Do you think we're in the same league?” Mr. Notar asked. “I don't think it's even worthy of a mention. They don't have hibachi tables; they have teppanyaki tables. That's like a Hyundai of a car—it'll be there to get you from A to B, but it's not a Porsche. That's what everyone does. Look at the Chrysler next to the Bentley. It is what it is.”

Harvey and the Ouroboros

When an anxious first-time novelist has good reason to be paranoid about her publisher's handling of her book and then believes that her worst fears are coming true, does it make a sound?

Back in late 2003, when Miramax Books announced that it was buying a Devil Wears Prada–style roman à clef about Miramax called The Twins of Tribeca, written by a former publicist for Miramax Films named Rachel Pine, it sent a few media watchers into a twitter. The company pre-empted an auction for the book with a $400,000 advance, and people naturally wondered whether the legendarily thin-skinned Harvey Weinstein would try to influence the book's content, water it down or even squash it altogether.

The author, Ms. Pine, hired a lawyer early on and said that she had an explicit conversation with Mr. Weinstein before they signed the deal in which he promised her that her book would be treated like any other and that it would receive the company's full support in terms of marketing and publicity. When the book was released in June and was written about in a smattering of glossy magazines—including Vanity Fair, Entertainment Weekly, even Time and its list of “5 Fantastic First Novels”—in addition to being granted a slot on the Today show, it seemed that the book had survived unscathed.

According to Ms. Pine and several former Miramax employees who are familiar with the activities of the Miramax Books publicity department, midway through the publicity campaign for Twins of Tribeca in early June, Mr. Weinstein was sore about some of the media coverage the book was receiving. One former staff member said that word came from Mr. Weinstein's office that it wasn't intended that Twins of Tribeca become a best-seller or make it to a second printing (beyond the announced initial 75,000 print run).

A key catalyst for Mr. Weinstein's displeasure, according to the former staffers, was an article that appeared in the Daily News on June 2, which purported to identify several of the celebrities who were thinly disguised in the novel. In addition to “unmasking” Robert De Niro as “Eddie Di Silva” in the book, and Gwyneth Paltrow as the “Juliet Bartlett” character, the story instructed: “Watch PHIL, the fat one, eat an omelet with his bare hands” (i.e., Harvey Weinstein) and “See TONY, the frizzy-haired one, spew expletives from a yoga headstand” (Bob).

According to Ms. Pine, after the Daily News article had been published, and as her scheduled mid-June Today show appearance approached, she began to hear murmurings from people at Miramax that Mr. Weinstein was unhappy with some of the attention the book was getting, and she felt that the book's publicity efforts—author appearances, advertising, radio interviews and local New York newspaper features—either dried up or never materialized as expected. As a full-time publicist herself—Ms. Pine's day job is as director of marketing for Trader Monthly and Justice magazines, and she was trained in the dirty trenches of Miramax Films' own P.R. department—she was probably a more demanding author than most; she said that her book was never pitched to gossip columns such as Page Six or to the Associated Press, that the book was left home from the Frankfurt Book Fair, and that the company didn't try hard enough to sell publishing rights in the U.K. She said that the Miramax publicists discouraged her throughout the process from hiring her own publicist, which she eventually did.

Ms. Pine's lawyer, Jonathan Kirsch, said that he was preparing a letter to be sent to Miramax Books, putting them “on notice of our concerns and our legal claims.”

"We are concerned that individuals at the company at which the publishing arm is a part may have made a decision not to honor the obligations they were under to give this book a fair chance in the market—by publishing it, by promoting it, exposing it to the media, making it available in the marketplace,” said Mr. Kirsch. “What we're concerned with is that a decision may have been made to kill the book.”

It was surely no help to the cause of Ms. Pine's book (as well as those of other Miramax authors) that the editorial and publicity staff of the Miramax books unit has been scattered to the winds in recent months, as the Weinstein brothers reorganized and severed the company's ties with Disney, which owned the company for the last 12 years. (Jonathan Burnham, the editor in chief of Miramax Books who bought Ms. Pine's novel, left the company for HarperCollins in March; publishing director Kathy Schneider recently followed him there; and Miramax Books publicity director Claire McKinney just announced that she was decamping to Holt, among other departures.) The Weinsteins are currently out trying to raise money for their new company, with the help of Goldman Sachs.

Then there have also been some difficult reviews for Ms. Pine's book to weather, including a harsh write-up by Janet Maslin in The New York Times as well as a scathing one in Publishers Weekly.

According to Ms. McKinney, who is still working on Ms. Pine's Miramax publicity campaign, she was eager for the book to do well, as were Mr. Burnham and Rob Weisbach, his successor as editor in chief.

“My impression is that this book is our big summer book,” said Ms. McKinney. “We put advertising into it; she's been covered widely in the press. I got her a Today show booking. As far as the coverage you get for a first novel, this is pretty good. She's had the same exact treatment as Bergdorf Blondes. I and the people who work with me in publicity have worked our butts off for Rachel.”

A spokesperson for Miramax pointed out that in Ms. Pine's June 20 appearance on the Today show, she expressed some rather flattering sentiments about the Weinsteins to Al Roker. Harvey “kept his word the whole way,” said Ms. Pine.

Mr. Weinstein's people e-mailed in a statement to The Observer: “We've had a good sense of humor all along and think that every story is good publicity for the book,” Mr. Weinstein said.

—Sheelah Kolhatkar

The Loneliest Mayor

Ah, the Republican National Convention. The most charming guests! And, of course, those massive protests and mass arrests ….

It went so well, it seems, that New York is hungry for the next one. (Or perhaps it's just that Mayor Bloomberg isn't happy unless he's surrounded by crowds—how else might we understand his lust for stadiums and the Olympics?)

Not long after Democratic National Committee Chairman Howard Dean came to office, he received an unexpected message from New York's Republican Mayor, Michael Bloomberg. When Dr. Dean returned the call, Mr. Bloomberg offered congratulations and told him that he'd like to be the first to toss his city's hat into the ring for the 2008 Democratic National Convention.

The Democrats, of course, snubbed New York for Boston in 2004.

"National political conventions are a huge economic boost for the city, and the Mayor wanted to get his foot in the door on the next one,” said Mr. Bloomberg's spokesman, Ed Skyler.

—Ben Smith

Basabe, King of All Media

Last Friday, Fabian Basabe was introduced to The Transom by his publicist as an “actor.” The very next night, in the Hamptons, Mr. Basabe was ejected from the nightclub Star Room for a very good job of acting, although it was unclear if he was playing himself, a raging alcoholic or simply a man in search of publicity. For starters, he referred to staff of the hotspot as “Negroes” and became, as a witness later told Page Six, “very violent and aggressive.”

Mr. Basabe, a young socialite who has become quite well-known for partygoing and being talked about, succeeded in making himself the center of attention yet again: He scored lead items in both yesterday's Page Six and Rush & Molloy.

The Transom, perhaps because it's paranoid, wondered if this was the handiwork of publicist and rumored Basabe-frenemy Lizzie Grubman. (Besides, the very idea of a delicious celebutante catfight, with the backdrop of an East End party scene, sets one's heart aflutter!) But no, our hopes were crushed. “I was sort of there,” said Ms. Grubman. Well: “I was there, but not for long.” But was Ms. Grubman the hit woman who sent the dirty Basabe business to the tabloids? “Why would I do that?” she asked. “That is clearly 100 percent not true.”

Mr. Basabe—who flew to Bologna on Monday, according to Rush & Molloy—didn't return The Transom's e-mails.

But Jo Piazza, one of the sassy young reporters of the Rush & Molloy column, did. “I wasn't even in the Hamptons all weekend (I'm a truant gossip reporter), but by 3 p.m. on Sunday I had no fewer than six voicemail messages detailing dear Fabian's late-night exploits at the Star Room,” she wrote. “The story had all the elements of a great gossip tale: drunken dancing, swinging from the rafters, ambiguous sexuality and racial tension.”

“I started getting texts about it on Sunday,” said Page Six's Paula Froelich by phone. (Yes, be paranoid! Everyone around you is a cell-phone-wielding informant—except, of course, Ms. Grubman.)

And how did Mr. Basabe happen to score the tabloid twofer? “Every time we get an item,” said Ms. Froelich, “he calls up the Daily News and says, ‘This is what Page Six has to say.' That's a plot to get more and more press …. Fabian, like Paris [Hilton], has figured out how to get famous over nothing. And I give him credit: He's done a great job. Hey—he taped an Oprah three weeks ago.”

Oprah! La Oprah! The mind boggles.

It is time, Mr. Basabe had said on the night before his Hamptons tantrum, “to give back to New York.” For some reason, he plans to do that by appearing in a reality-TV show.

Mr. Basabe and his fellow C.O.P.'s (children of privilege!) like Brittny Gastineau, Pat Benatar spawn Haley Giraldo and the Honorable Alexander Clifford (son of the 14th Baron the Lord Thomas Hugh John Clifford of Chudleigh, Devon) will get dirty for your viewing pleasure on Filthy Rich: Cattle Drive, which will air in August on E!

Apparently, the kids were transported to a ranch in gorgeous Steamboat Springs, Colo., and forced to corral 209 cows. Something, something, something (The Transom lost interest). “It was serious business,” Mr. Basabe explained. “Riding is one thing, herding cattle is another.” To make matters worse, “they took away our watches and cell phones.”

Mr. Basabe is intending to finish out the summer in Los Angeles and Italy. In September, he'll return to New York with a vengeance to begin a “personal crusade to educate myself on local and domestic issues” in the form of a nonprofit he is starting called YVote.

It will be something like MTV's “Rock the Vote” campaign, only Mr. Basabe promised that his staff will be “all registered voters.” Last election, Mr. Basabe actually had to call his father, he admitted, from the voting booth to ask about the issues listed on the docket.

“I want to educate my generation,” he said seriously.

—Raquel Hecker and Choire Sicha

Lessons learned this week: That New Yorkers get awfully cranky when the sidewalks start to bake in the heat (and yet braless lasses continue to clomp around in gamy cowboy boots); that, according to the courts of law, Martha Stewart is more of a threat to society than Michael Jackson; that the folks at The New York Times are apparently befuddled because they can't tell gay men from straight ones anymore (listen up, Mr. Pinch Sulzberger, it's easy: The men with the blue iPods are straight- O.K.?); and that the pod people from outer space (read: Scientologists) have absconded with poor Katie Holmes' brain. Who needs a vacation? Tonight, some spit-shined members of society make their way to the Pierre for the Calvary Hospital Awards Dinner Dance, where the M.C., Mr. Al ("I'm Even Scarier When I'm Skinny, Ain't I?") Roker, will be sure to make topical jokes. The whole shebang is to benefit a good cause-helping patients in the advanced stages of cancer. Meanwhile, HBO (which finally has us sold on Entourage, but we pledge that no matter how many times they insist on rerunning Deadwood, we're not budging) throws a screening party for Twist of Faith, a documentary about a Toledo firefighter who confronts his history of sexual abuse by a Catholic priest. The film was nominated for Best Documentary Feature at the Oscars but got beat out by Born into Brothels (at least it wasn't Super Size Me!).

[Calvary Hospital Awards Dinner Dance, the Pierre, Fifth Avenue at 61st Street, 6:30 p.m., 212-627-1000; Twist of Faith screening, HBO, 1100 Avenue of the Americas, 6 p.m., by invitation only.]

Thursday 23rd

Just in from London ( and boy, are our arms tired!-that bit never fails!): a new exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Matisse: The Fabric of Dreams, which opens today and is sure to draw a crowd all summer (there isn't a dorm room in America without one obligatory print up next to Klimt's The Kiss). The show concentrates on Matisse's "lifelong interest in textiles" ( hmmm). Does anyone else think the name from this show sounds like a song from Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat?

[ Matisse: The Fabric of Dreams, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1000 Fifth Avenue, now through Sept. 25, www.met.org.]

Friday  24 th

Sample sail? Some people really get it right when they take vacations: Executive chef of Union Square Café Michael Romano sets sail today aboard the yacht Callisto for a culinary cruise around Southern Italy, where the focus is eating, eating and eating ( would we!). "We set sail from Dubrovnik and make our way down to Puglia and the boot of the heel," said Mr. Romano, whose family originates from the region. All along the way, passengers will get blotto on local wines and scarf ingredients from local markets. "It's a pretty nice way to spend your vacation," he said. "Sailing through one of the most beautiful places in the world and eating good food and wines-it doesn't get much better." Well, we're planning on going to Great Adventure, and they have one hell of a food court! Meanwhile, our favorite sporting event ever, the Purina Incredible Dog Challenge, makes its way to Liberty State Park for a weekend of "exciting canine events." This means lots of border collies twisting through cones and catching a lot of Frisbees, all to compete for a spot in the national championships. Yea!

[Union Square Café's Michael Romano Culinary Cruise, setting sail tonight (see ya, suckers!), www.traveldynamicsinternational.com; Purina Incredible Dog Challenge, Liberty State Park, www.events.purina.com.]

Saturday 25th

Happy Gay Pride weekend! What better way (besides hemming your outfit for tomorrow's parade) is there to celebrate than to see some fine theater featuring cross-dressing? Tonight, the Aquila Theatre Company celebrates the opening of Twelfth Night at the Baruch Performing Arts Center. The story has mistaken identities, unrequited love and bereavement (just like an episode of Three's Company, but no commercials!). "In Twelfth Night, Shakespeare created the character of Malvolio, a parsimonious Puritan intent on killing all joy and climbing into the ranks of the nobility in the process," said co-director Peter Meineck. " There's something very familiar about a religious zealot trying to impose his will on an entire community." Wonder who he's talking about? Meanwhile, all the Hampton pooh-bahs have two galas to choose from. There's the Love Heals "A Night with Gatsby" gala ( err, not that anyone asked us, but doesn't anyone else remember how terribly unhappy Gatsby was?) at Luna Farm in Sagaponack with an auction, dinner, dancing and champagne toasts "under the moon" to benefit the worthy Alison Gertz Foundation for AIDS Education. Competing for the summer crowd is the Hampton Designer Showhouse Gala Preview Opening Night, which benefits Southampton Hospital. The dress is "elegant casual," which means linen sundresses and orange neckties. And if you'd had the good sense to go to the Jersey Shore, tonight all you'd be doing is eating fresh seafood and drinking weak beer. We're just sayin', is all.

[ Twelfth Night, Baruch Performing Arts Center, 25th Street between Lexington and Third avenues, 8 p.m., www.ticketcentral.com; "A Night With Gatsby," Love Heals at Luna Farm, 276 Parsonage Lane, Sagaponack, N.Y., www.loveheals.org; the Hampton De signer Showhouse to Benefit Southampton Hospital, 61 Down East Lane, Southampton, 631-283-7140.]

Sunday 26th

More Shake, less Speare! Another Elizabethan cross-dresser, Rosalind, hits the boards in Central Park in As You Like It. Mark Lamos directs a fine cast composed of no one you've ever heard of, including Lynn Collins from the Al Pacino–starring Merchant of Venice as Rosalind herself. Bring bug spray! And if you still feel as if you haven't gotten your fill of drag, skip over to the Delancey, where the official Gay Pride after-party, PRIDE, kicks off its (size-13) heels upstairs to music by D.J. Trauma and D.J. Saint. On the rooftop, a free barbecue promises all the wieners you can eat ( heh). Or if an arm-crossing, hesitantly dancing crowd is more your speed, Irving Plaza plays host to Ted Leo and the Pharmacists. Whatever way you choose, it's as you like it.

[Shakespeare in the Park, the Delacorte Theater, Central Park, pick up tickets at 1 p.m., line up at dawn, 212-260-2400, www.publictheater.org; PRIDE, the Delancey, 168 Delancey, barbecue at 6 p.m., dancing at 9 p.m., 212-254-9920, www.thedelancey.com; Ted Leo and the Pharmacists (with Radio 4 and Off Minor), Irving Plaza, 17 Irving Place, 9 p.m., 212-777-6800.]

Monday 27th

Holla! Terrence Howard, who played a struggling (and smoldering!) D.J. under Ludacris' tutelage in the Sundance darling Hustle & Flow, will be on hand for the film's screening in the MGM screening room. If you can't get yourself on the guest list, there's always the after-party two hours later at Fizz, a "hot spot" in midtown (does this qualify as an oxymoron?). Hotel Rwanda director/screenwriter Terry George, one of the evening's hosts, anticipates that it will be like "some sort of 50 Cent–Snoop Dogg rock video … one of those kind of parties." Sadly, Snoop will not be in da hizzouse. O.K.! Moving on, Weimaraner-lovin' William Wegman co-chairs the contemporary art auction " New Start" at Sotheby's. Proceeds to benefit Harlem's Odyssey House, a nonprofit that provides "innovative services" to the mentally ill and those who have drug problems. Get your sweaty hands on your very own Robert Motherwell or Peter Max-even Mr. Wegman has donated a puppy picture: "I'm looking forward to being at the Sotheby's event, amongst artists and art buyers who are turning out to show they also believe in giving people a second chance." Finally, some edge: The Great Throwdini will attempt to break the world knife-throwing record by throwing 120 knives in under a minute. (No word yet on whom he's throwing them at …). Throwdini (a.k.a. the Reverend Doctor David Adamovich) told us that tossing three knives at a time is "not so easy." Angelina Jolie sure makes it look like a cakewalk!

[ Hustle & Flow, 1350 Avenue of Americas, MGM screening room, 7 p.m., by invitation only; "New Start" auction, Sotheby's, 72nd Street and York Avenue, 6 p.m., 212-966-4710, www.odysseyhouseinc.org; the Great Throwdini, Maximum Risk, Soho Playhouse, 15 Vandam Street, 8 p.m., 212-691-1555.]

Tuesday 28th

If you like Campbell Scott  (and sheesh, who doesn't?), you'll be swooning with us at the Young Friends of Film Honors celebrating the handsome actor/director tonight. The Dying Gaul, Mr. Scott's latest drama (which is super-fantastic), about a dangerous Hollywood love triangle, will be screened, and director-playwright Craig Lucas and co-stars Patricia Clarkson and Peter Sarsgaard ( swoon) will be on hand to spout accolades about their modest co-star. Dress in your finest for the black-tie after-party at the swank Kaplan Penthouse in Lincoln Center-and keep all Patton imitations to yourselves. And even if your best friend swore up and down that your $375 shiny bridesmaid dress could be shortened and worn again, get serious. Meanwhile, anyone else notice that most people only want to save cute animals? At Central Park's SummerStage, the Roots, De La Soul and designer Marc Ecko throw a "Save the Rhinos" concert. Saving a whale is totally last century.

[Sixth Annual Young Friends of Film Honors, Walter Reade Theater, 8 p.m., www.filmlinc.com; Marc Ecko Presents Save the Rhinos, doors open at 6 p.m., show starts at 6:30 p.m., SummerStage in Central Park, www.ticketmaster.com.]

Wednesday   29th

When did everyone decide  that the buddy system was the best way to write a novel? Sarah Bushweller Castellano and Emily Morris publish together as"Libby Street," who is having "her" book party tonight for Happiness Sold Separately. Sigh. Whatever-there's nothing on television, so you may as well strap on those jelly shoes for lots of pink drinks and boy-bashing. If you think of yourself as the arty type, bring your clove cigarettes to the opening of Fresh Paint at th e Lehmann Maupin Gallery. The show features the work of young, heretofore-undiscovered American and European artists, though the gallery's publicist anticipates that only the American artists will actually show up. Figures. And for you thrifty brides out there (or for you slightly demented single gals), there's a Wedding Salon sample sale with 30 to 80 percent off Vera Wang and Nicole Miller. Take that, smug June brides!

[Book party for Happiness Sold Separately, G2, 400 West 14th Street, 7:30 p.m., 917-432-1224; opening reception for Fresh Paint at Lehmann Maupin Gallery, 540 West 26th Street, 6 to 8 p.m., www.lehmannmaupin.com; Wedding Salon Sample Sale, Metropolitan Pavilion Gallery, 125 West 18th Street, fourth floor, noon to 7 p.m., www.4pmweddingsalon.com.]

Thursday  30th

Rich kids spotted outdoors! The Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts Young Patrons Society (whose members pay for their social lives) is invited to shake its collective groove thing outside at a "Mambo Fling at Midsummer Night Swing." Expect more bad rhymes at the open bar. Find some air-conditioning at the Museum of the Moving Image's double feature of James Toback's 1978 Fingers and the new French remake, The Beat That My Heart Skipped. The always entertaining Mr. Toback will talk about the films after the screening. (Ask him where he'd be if Robert Downey Jr. hadn't saved his ass by appearing in his movie Two Girls and a Guy!) Meanwhile, the always unpredictable Robert Melee is hosting an evening with friends, including '05 Biennial Burlesque stripper (or something) Julie Atlas Muz, at the Kitchen. We're told Ms. Muz will perform her premiere of"Mr. Pussy." Me- OW!

[Mambo Fling, Lincoln Center Fountain Cafe, Josie Robertson Plaza, Broadway at 64th Street, 7 to 10 p.m., 212-875-5423; double feature at the Museum of the Moving Image, 35 Avenue at 36th Street, Astoria, 7 p.m., www.movingimage.us; Robert Melee's Talent Show, the Kitchen, 512 West 19th Street, www.thekitchen.org.]

Friday 1st

Happy Canada Day! All the expatriates from the Upper North Side ( way north) will be huddled together in solidarity at Joe's Pub for "A Celebration of Canadian Song." And while we know that all of the "cool" bands currently hail from Montreal, we still worry that there's going to be an awful lot of Avril and Alanis. If Canucks cavorting isn't your thing, an urban storyteller ( meep!) named Bilal tells stories in the Prospect Park Bandshell with R&B singer Martha Redbone. Or take yourself to the cinema and try to decide who is creepier: aliens or Tom Cruise (or are they one and the same?).

["A Celebration of Canadian Song," Joe's Pub at the Public Theater, 425 Lafayette Street, 7:30 p.m., 212-239-6200; Celebrate Brooklyn!, Prospect Park Bandshell, 7:30 p.m., www.celebratebrooklyn.org; War of the Worlds, for theaters and showtimes, www.moviefone.com.]

Saturday 2nd

If you usually avoid the jolly German tourists elbowing around Times Square with giant Old Navy bags, today embrace the fanny pack and head over to the Times Square Block Party. "It's just a good time in the middle of Times Square," promises publicist Joe Giovanni. "With over 10,000 people." Now that's the good time we've been waiting for since we were 5! Even better, the party just happens to be sponsored by the Church of Scientology! But don't worry, they're not taking over the city … or are they? Meanwhile, if you're up for taking the B train to Coney Island, the Coney Island Museum is showcasing a campy double feature. "The down-at-the-heels ambience of the Coney Island, with its funhouse mirrors, sideshow banners, heyday memorabilia and creaky floors, makes a perfect venue for some of the cheesiest cult classics ever to grace the silver screen," said Rob Leddy, the organizer. Tonight's lineup includes 1962's Satan in High Heels, which follows a carnival burlesque dancer as she sleeps with an older man and his son, followed by 1967's Way Out Topless, a go-go extravaganza sporting as many bobbing, bouncy beehives as an apiary. Or try lying on the floor and thinking about how you got here.

[Times Square Block Party, 46th Street between Seventh and Eighth avenues, 10 a.m. to 6 pm., 212-809-4900; Coney Island Museum Saturday Night Film Series, the Coney Island Museum, 1208 Surf Avenue, 8 p.m., 718-372-5159, www.coneyisland.com/films.shtml.]

Sunday 3rd

If your idea of fun is closer to Scrooged than Stripes, forsake the Fourth of July weekend pleasantries and put up your angry little feet in a dark theater of cynicism. Kiyoshi Kurosawa's Bright Future (2003), a film whose plot centers on a poisonous jellyfish, is the last catch (sorry) of the Asian City Films series at the Museum of the Moving Image in Queens. Expect that borough's new brand of hipsters to show. In other Asian news, Chinatown celebrates the Fourth a day early, with a parade to "celebrate American patriotism." (See if Rudy shows up to chase youngsters setting off illegal firecrackers!) However, be aware that in addition to a kung-fu demonstration, there's a fleet of life-sized, demonic, street-walking Pokémon. Meep.

[ Bright Future, Museum of the Moving Image, 35th Avenue at 36th Street in Astoria, 4:30 pm., 718-784-0077, www.movingimage.us; Independence Day in Chinatown, Mott Street between Canal and Bayard, noon to 5: p.m., www.explorechinatown.com.]

Monday  4th

Happy Independence Day! God bless America-and what better way to celebrate than watching a Japanese guy eat a lot of hot dogs? "Kobayashi is the greatest athlete in the world," said Richard Shea, the president of the International Federation of Competitive Eating. The Nathan's hot-dog eating contest has made a superstar of Takeru Kobayashi, a skinny 26-year-old fellow who can munch 53.5 hot dogs in one hour (hold the relish, Mother!). Today, at high noon, U.S. defender Sonya Thomas (weight: 100 pounds; personal record: 32 dogs and buns) will face Mr. Kobayashi."You never know what's going to happen," said Mr. Shea. "It's not a puppet show-it's a sport." Yeah, and we're Charles friggin' Dickens! O.K.! Those with weaker stomachs can go hear lullaby songsmiths Yo La Tengo at Battery Park.  "Each of us can eat 10 hot dogs a minute," said bassist James McNew, cracking wise. "But we do it just for the love of the game. We're not about competing; we just want to do well." The band will be playing all their watery ballad hits today, with 90's alt-phenom Stephen Malkmus and his band, the Jicks, opening the show. And if you believe that being an American means spending those almighty dollars, then for almost 300 bucks you can glimpse tonight's fireworks from the water with a five-hour "dinner sail" from the South Street Seaport. We love it when the sky smells burnt.

[The Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Contest, 1310 Surf Avenue, noon; Yo La Tengo with Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks, Battery Park, between Bridge and Pearl Streets, 3:30 pm., www.rivertoriver.org.; Pioneer Cruise, South Street Seaport, 5 p.m., 212-748-8590.]

Tuesday  5th

Cherry pie? One-armed men? Hotties in aprons? No, not a nursing home, you silly goose-it's Twin Peaks, the wonderful, cultish TV series that is unfortunately being "ironized" by the smug Williamsburg set. For 15 Tuesdays in a row, the Laila Lounge has been screening two episodes a night and serving up free cherry pie. Tonight, the finale of Season 2: Can Agent Cooper rescue Annie from the clutches of Windom Earle-let alone the spirit of BOB-to justice? And what the heck's going on in that Black Lodge, anyway? Check it out … it's like a zoo for philosophy majors! (The woods are not what they seem.) Across town, Elmo Lounge sponsors that zany troupe, Tweed Theater, for the weekly "Bad Books Reading Series," where comedians and poets read from 1950's self-help books, Jewel poems, Naomi Campbell's "supermodel mystery"-but we bet they're too chicken to poke fun at Jonathan Franzen! Troupe members proclaim that the readings are part of a long line in the "established tradition of making fun of those more fortunate." We thought that was what Us Weekly was for.

[ Twin Peaks Tuesdays, the Laila Lounge, 113 North Seventh Street, 718-486-6791, www.lailalounge.com; Bad Books Reading Series, Elmo Lounge, 156 Seventh Avenue, 9 p.m., 213-337-8000, www.tweedtheater.org/litlite.]

Wednesday  6th

Pull out your starting blocks  and sprint over to Rockefeller Center to join the crowd of lovable dorks crowded round the telly to find out if the International Olympic Committee members have gone completely insane and decided to award the games to New York after all. Meanwhile, if you're scared of feet, avoid Wave Hill's Barefoot Dancing Party, at which everyone is "invited" to remove their shoes at the gate and dance around to live Kotchegna music by musicians from the Côte d'Ivoire. "We've gotten like 600 people before," said Julia Waters, spokesgal for Wave Hill. "People can kick off their shoes and really dance outside, overlooking the Hudson River and the Palisades." What are we, hippies?

[NYC2012 announcement, Rockefeller Center, 50th Street between Fifth and Sixth avenues, 212-953-2012, www.nyc2012.com; Barefoot Dancing: Kotchegna, Wave Hill, 675 West 252nd Street, 718-549-3200, www.wavehill.org.]