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Amanda Seyfried stars as Linda Lovelace

Eccles Center in Park City, Utah—known to Sundance veterans as “The Big House”—is so massive that my first thought was that the Rolling Stones would have had a tough time selling this joint out at 10 p.m. on a Tuesday night in the middle of a frigid January.

The night in question was last Tuesday, Jan. 22. The occasion was the world premiere of a film that I wrote, Lovelace, in which Amanda Seyfried stars as 1970s porn icon-turned-women’s rights activist Linda Lovelace.

Team Lovelace flew into Park City with a bit of a tailwind. Ms. Seyfried had received raves for her performance as Cosette in Les Misérables, there were encouraging results from two focus groups, and there was a generally healthy buzz surrounding the film. But that’s how every ghost story starts, isn’t it? Haunted whispers from around the campfires of Sundance, Cannes and Toronto—an enticing cabin in the mountains, a super-sexy young woman about to take her top off and a group of friends high on camaraderie and optimism—three weeks later, everybody is telemarketing or teaching English in Thailand.

That’s the dirty little secret about the film industry (well, one of many, actually). You can test and prod and predict all you want, but the clinically detached truth is that you never have any clue if your movie is any good until you get it in front of an unbiased audience.

There are probably 100 different variables that factor into whether a project is christened a success or not, but none is more important than landing a distribution deal. For movies like Lovelace that head into festivals showroom-shined and in search of a distributor, world premieres are similar to the first 15 minutes of a kidnapping—early action points to a happy ending and early silence hints at long, deep darkness in the days ahead.

Everybody knows this harsh reality. That’s why, when I sat down and saw that every single one of the theater’s 1,300 seats was filled, I instantly regretted my decision to attend the screening sober. Like any good self-loathing writer, I spend most of my days hiding under my bed waiting for the fraud police to kick in my door. So, on high-stakes, high-wire nights like last Tuesday, I have a tendency to catastrophize. My beautiful, enchanting and endlessly understanding wife, Kate, is often dragooned into action as a human landing beacon as I drink my way past charming and take on the aspect of a distressed Cessna with its engines on fire, looking for a strip of flat earth upon which I can land my wounded pride.

But there I was, sober and scared stiff, squirming and stressing and overanalyzing every cough and giggle and whimper from the audience. Yes, there were laughs and tears, just like I intended when I wrote the script, but, I wondered as the credits began to roll, were they enough? A smattering of applause began to spread through the theater. At first it felt awkward, almost polite. But then it grew in tone and urgency into what even I had to admit sounded like authentic praise.

Moments later, I was called onstage by my great friends and collaborators, directors Rob Epstein and Jeffrey Friedman. On my way up to join the producers and cast for the Q&A, I caught sight of something—a brief flicker of shadow and shapes—that would take me a few seconds to process.

As I took my place onstage, I realized what I had just seen. It was Harvey Weinstein huddled with our financiers, Millennium/Nu Image, out in the hall, away from all distractions. It was as if I was living the first line of my obituary.

Mr. Weinstein isn’t just any distributor. He is an iconic, mercurial embodiment of aesthetic affirmation. He is congratulations incarnate.

Forty minutes later—before I even had a chance to reach for the champagne tray at the after-party—the news began to spread. We had, indeed, officially been acquired by Radius - The Weinstein Company. And for the rest of the night—a night filled with handshakes and back-slaps and congratulations—all I could hear was the applause coming from 1,300 people cheering in The Big House.

We've found the 10 "best" listings this year, as well as their estimated price, terms and conditions, and number of bidders. (And if someone wants to get us that meeting with Harvey, we'll take it!)

Olivier Nakache, Meryl Streep, Omar Sy, Eric Toledano and Mr. Weinstein.

As we walked out of Cipriani 55 on Wednesday, we were overwhelmed with confusion. What had just happened? Smiling, we headed for a cab, trying to piece together some sort of cohesion.

“We are getting people out of wheelchairs and walking," I recalled  Matthew Reeve saying at the beginning of the evening, poised on the red carpet of the Christopher and Dana Reeve Foundation annual Magical Evening. 'That involves fundraising.”

“Its a wonderful chance to celebrate what the organization has accomplished and remind everyone what needs to be done, whilst remembering my father and step mother’s legacy.”

With the evening's noble purpose clearly set in our minds, we were ushered to our tables.

Good Morning America anchors Josh Elliot, Sam Champion and Lara Spencer kicked off the proceedings with a champagne toast. The taste of bubbly fresh on our lips, the presentation of the Christopher Reeve Spirit and Courage award soon followed.  We were inspired by James Dasavano's struggle to reverse his mother’s paralysis, a fete he accomplished with the help of his family and the foundation. Tears almost came to our eyes when we saw his mother walk beside him to the podium.

A little break in the ceremonies gave us time to gather our emotions and tuck into the starter and eyebrow-raising pop performance by Jason Derulo. “I suffered a broken neck when performing a routine back flip tuck preparing for my tour this year. When I heard that they reached out to me I said, 'absolutely.' I had to move a couple things around but I felt like nothing else was more important than this,”  Mr. Derulo told us, honored to participate in the evening.

After dinner we headed over to have a chat with masochistic magician David Blaine. When we got nearer we realized that he was eating glass to the audience of Meryl Streep and Harvey Weinstein. The night was careening into chaos. After Ms. Streep ran away in disgust we asked Mr. Blaine how he came to be involved in the organization.

“Want to see a trick?” he asked.

Please no, not the glass. Mercifully he pulled out a pack of cards and proceeded to perform a whirlwind of card tricks. “You can’t tell anyone about these tricks because they are going to go in my new show," he said as he pulled a folded four of spades from underneath my watch.

We suddenly heard Ms. Streep at the podium, poised beside Mr. Weinstein, the two having escaped Mr. Blaine to present an award to Olivier Nakache and Éric Toledano, the directors of the French box office hit The Intouchables. Ms. Streep almost gave the dagger shaped award to the producer Mr. Weinstein.

“Do I give to you now ... between the eyes?”

Do it Meryl. She didn’t and after a slightly unbelievable story about how he and Johnny Depp were the reason the handicap access bill was passed in the Senate, Mr. Weinstein handed off the award. Omar Sy, the lead in The Intouchables, gave an extremely moving speech which was soon followed by some more pop mayhem in the form of Mr. Derulo’s girlfriend Jordin Sparks. Earlier she had told us that “anytime I can be at a place where people are trying to make a difference or trying to change things I feel super. Christopher Reeve and Dana Reeve are Superman and Superwomen so that is quite fitting.”

Her songs following us, The Observer headed for the door. Before we could exit, however, we were stopped by a camera crew for yet another Jersey reality show as they filmed what appeared to be two very tiny orange people. At that point nothing could surprise us.

Brad Pitt, Sam Taylor-Johnson, Aaron Taylor-Johnson at No. 8 (PMc)

Last night the Cinema Society and Men's Health presented Brad Pitt's latest feature (besides those Chanel ads), a dark shoot-em-up called Killing Them Softly. The after party, held at No. 8, was jammed back full of celebs, though Mr. Pitt, Harvey Weinstein, Jack McBrayer, and Amy Adams remained secluded from the whole ordeal by two large security guards who literally linked arms to stop the crush of people from trying to wiggle their way into the VIP area.

Besides being an odd hodge-podge of fame, can we just examine, for a moment, Jack McBrayer's IRL persona, which is not very distinguishable from that of his 30 Rock character, Kenneth Parcell? I.e., when telling the actor how much we liked his animated performance in Wreck-It-Ralph, he replied, "Awww, gosh, thanks!" Which is definitely something we can all imagine Kenneth saying, yes?

Nearby, Chris Noth was giving advice to a young woman with dark hair. "If you aren't doing what you love, I'd just say quit. Is your agent getting you work these days?"

Two feet away, Ray Liotta had stopped to talk to Fisher Stevens. "Fuck that motherfucker," he said, in response to a mutual acquaintance. "Just fuck that guy."

Upstairs, Patrick Wilson conferred with Rose Byrne and a bevy of beautiful models while Boardwalk Empire stars Bobby Carnivale and Billy Magnussen mingled with friends on the stairs.

With bodies crushed at the bar to get to the liquor sponsor of the evening, DeLeón tequila, we kept being nudged in the back by a very tall young man with a newsboy hat and a wispy beard. ("What kind of drinks are they making? What does your tattoo say? Etc.)

Finally we handed Matthew Lillard the drink menu so he could check out for himself, and remarked how much we had loved Scream as a teenager.

"Did you know that it came out on Thanksgiving weekend?" he asked. "It was this brilliant piece of counter-culture programming, ever. That was all Harvey."

And what was Mr. Lillard doing in New York these days?

"Oh, just hanging out with this guy! We're making a movie together," he said, waving down the person on the other side of us.

"Hello, I'm Patrick," said Sir Patrick Stewart. We all ordered some sort of whiskey/bourbon and soda/water combination and raised our glasses.

With all the blood and guts and gore that make for (apparent) box-office gold during the holidays seasons, we asked Mr. Lillard if he had any favorite non-violent Christmas classics.

"Well, there's really only two, and they are cliche," he admitted. "There's the Jimmy Stewart one, and A Christmas Story."

Had he heard about the terrible straight-to-DVD sequel of the A Christmas Story that recently came out?
http://youtu.be/YHJNBZ2rrMM

"Don't tell me that...I wish you hadn't told me that," Mr. Lillard groaned. "In fact, you didn't tell me that. I am glad that I have never been told such a terrible thing."

He told us the next time we were in Ohio, we should go visit the Christmas Story house, which had artifacts from the film. We promised we would. Sir Patrick Stewart was with his partner, Sunny Ozwell.

As we left, we passed the crowd surrounding Mr. Pitt even within the relatively contained VIP section. He had long hair. Angelina Jolie was not with him. Harry Belafonte was, though. We quickly finished up our bourbon and left onto the wintery streets, where paparazzi still mingled, huddled together for warmth and determined to get a picture of Mr. Pitt leaving the Chelsea club before the night was over.

Olivia Wilde, Harvey Weinstein at 'Butter' (PMc)

Last night at the Cinema Society's after party for the premiere of the dark satire Butter, The Observer found Animal Practice's Justin Kirk lounging around on one of the black leather couches at Double 7, just one day after his show's second episode.

Animal Practice has been getting a lot of love, so much so that New York magazine dedicated four whole pages in this week's issue to its star. Not to Mr. Kirk--who had just finished up the last season of Weeds, on which he stole the show as Nancy Botwin's free-spirited brother-in-law Andy--but to Crystal, a capuchin monkey who earns $12,000 per episode on the NBC hit.

We just had to ask ... did Mr. Kirk feel a tiny bit jealous of all the monkey business?

"Whatever, I've been in New York magazine before," the actor replied with faux bravado.

"It's been great working with Crystal; she's bringing a lot of good press to the show, and the whole cast has just been so fun to work with." Mr. Kirk had adopted the glazed-eyed monotone of someone who's just been on too many junkets. We waited.

"Honestly, the whole press thing has been such a circus. I'm just glad that the episodes are now airing, and that the whole show can just ..." He held his arm out straight and dipped it up and down.

"You know."

We couldn't resist. "Has it literally been a circus?"

Mr. Kirk smiled and rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes. Gotta love the monkey."

Meanwhile, the movie's stars Ty Burrell, Alicia Silverstone, Yara Shahidi, Olivia Wilde and Jennifer Garner all made entrances at the nightclub (only Ashley Greene and Rob Corddry dipped after the screening), along with Dominic Cooper and Kelly Bensimon.

There was a noticeable tension between Ms. Garner, wearing a hip-hugging red dress, and Ms. Wilde, in a flowing green gown: the two never posed together for pictures, sat at opposite tables all night, and didn't so much as look at each other, while their publicists hovered by their clients' arms, shooting wary eye-daggers in each other's general direction.

Butter's director, Jim Field Smith, was holding court near the bar. Before the film, we had snuck in late and stood in the back of the theater as Mr. Smith introduced the movie, using a very complicated roller-coaster metaphor that we won't even try to recreate here. When he got to the part about it being a a subversive, dark satire, producer Harvey Weinstein turned to us and agreed: "That's true, it's very subversive."

The British Mr. Smith is best known for Matt LeBlanc's comeback on his show Episodes, another "dark, subversive satire" about American culture, as seen through the eyes of two British screenwriters who move to Hollywood and clash with all the oafish, West Coast stereotypes. As his new movie is an Election-style commentary on the politics of the Iowa State Fair butter-carving contest, we wanted to know one thing.

"Why do you hate America so much?"

"I don't!" He exclaimed. "Look, when it comes to elections and government politics, the British are even more insane than you guys. I like America. I think the film redeems the culture that at first you think it's making fun of."

(To be fair, despite Mr. Weinstein's statement, Butter is not that dark or subversive, although it does qualify as a satire.)

And what about that five minute roller-coaster metaphor speech?

"Oh God, what was I going on about with that?" He moaned. "I don't even like roller coasters."

We didn't bother asking how he felt about monkeys.

Thomas and Baldwin at Cannes.

It’s finally time to break out the fans, air conditioning window units and anything else that helps cool off sweltering New Yorkers. Memorial Day weekend brought some wonderful weather, though not as nice as the view coming in from Cannes. As the film festival closes, we look back on one of our favorite moments: Alec Baldwin’s pre-elopement declaration to fiancé Hilaria Thomas, whom he plans to whisk away once he’s finished screaming at Harvey Weinstein. The anger-management sessions seem to be working, though: it only took one day for the notoriously hot-headed actor and the even more bearish producer to kiss and make up via  handwritten letters of apology.

Unfortunately, British Airways forgot to leave a note for Kim Kardashian when they rifled through her bags during a trip to the French coast the reality star was taking with boyfriend Kanye West. According to Ms. Kardashian, items of “sentimental value” were stolen from her suitcase. We can’t even imagine what the purloined pieces might be, but we’re guessing that at least one of them might be a plaster of paris replica of Ray J—or certain parts of him, anyway. The man who put Ms. Kardashian on the map with a dirty video that went viral only recently recovered, after a perilous hospital stay, from an almost-fatal blood clot.

But if we wanted to talk about Sex Lies and Videotape, we would have gone to see Mexican director Carlos Reygadas’ controversial Post Tenebras Lux, which was greeted by boos from an outraged audience. Apparently no one wants to watch a movie involving animal torture, orgies and demon genitalia these days. Ms. Kardashian’s sex tape? Sure. That? No way. It’s just too hot—in both senses.

Alec Baldwin and fiancee, at the amFAR party in question (Getty Images)

We might have guessed that eventually, Alec Baldwin and Harvey Weinstein--two of show business's hottest heads--would end up clashing, and indeed, Mr. Baldwin called Mr. Weinstein a "douchebag" this week. It all went down at Cannes, the annual event at which Michael Haneke films coexist sweatily with the continued existence of Paris Hilton; Mr. Baldwin was angry, apparently, about Mr. Weinstein dropping out of funding his documentary, Seduced and Abandoned. Now, The Hollywood Reporter reports, Mr. Baldwin wrote Mr. Weinstein a note at the amFAR gala, leaving a note reading "HW, my apology to you and congratulations on a successful event"--but only after being removed as a co-host of the event. Whew! If nothing else, this is the most press the forthcoming-way-in-the-future film Seduced and Abandoned is likely ever to get. Nice work, gents.

Harvey Weinstein (Getty Images)

Harvey Weinstein's Weinstein Company has apparently capitulated to the Motion Picture Association of America, cutting some profanity (though not any scenes in full) in order to obtain the PG-13 rating that will allow for wider viewership. Per the Los Angeles Times, the new version of the film is to roll out on April 13, when the film expands from limited to wide release. This ends a détente between Mr. Weinstein and the ratings board, during which Mr. Weinstein had previously decided to leave his film unrated rather than face the R-rating stigma. Referring to MPAA Chairman Chris Dodd and the film's subject matter, Mr. Weinstein said in a statement: "“Senator Dodd’s support gives voice to the millions of children who suffer from bullying, and on behalf of TWC, the filmmakers, the families in the film and the millions of children and parents who will now see this film, I thank him for recognizing that this very real issue cannot afford to go unnoticed.”"

Mr. Weinstein had previously threatened to leave the MPAA, a group of which the Weinstein Company is not a member, over the rating; he also mobilized Weinstein Company movie stars like Meryl Streep for special screenings and benefited (at least in terms of publicity) from an online petition circulated by a Michigan teen. Bully enters the marketplace with far more publicity than your average documentary--even if it bears no rating.