"This has been an exciting twenty-four hours for me. Last night I was introduced by Elizabeth Hurley," said the mayor, who looked tan—either because of the theater lights or all that time spent playing golf in the Caribbean—in a pink shirt and light purple tie. "Today, it's Robert De Niro." He then added with a mischievous grin, that he has to be nice to Mr. De Niro to get "a last-minute reservation at Nobu," which De Niro, in part, owns.

He also quipped that film commissioner Katherine Oliver had "worked [Kofi Annan] over" to let Sydney Pollack shoot The Interpreter at the U.N. "Nobody stands in Katherine Oliver's way," he said. When a reporter asked why it had taken so long to create a festival of TFF's stature, Mike responded, "Well, I wasn't mayor before then. I'm not taking credit. I'm just stating a fact." Bobby D stood there and laughed.

At the time of the e-mail, Ms. Oliver was looking to raise upward of $30,000 from members of the New York Production Alliance, a nonprofit organization comprising various film-production entities, including some local unions.

"This is the year for us to promote the MADE IN NY incentive program … INTERNATIONALLY," wrote Ms. Oliver. "We would appreciate your support and guidance."

The e-mail raised a few eyebrows around the film industry and City Hall, given the ethical issues involved when a government agency makes urgent pleas for money from prominent members of an industry it regulates.

"I think it certainly raises questions of conflict of interest," said Rachel Leon, executive director of Common Cause New York, a nonprofit government-watchdog group. Although it doesn't appear to violate any regulations, the letter falls into a gray area epitomized by the recent controversy surrounding Deputy Mayor Dan Doctoroff's efforts to raise private donations for New York City's Olympics bid. "How do you say no when someone from the Mayor's office is calling you?" Ms. Leon said.

Julianne Cho, the film office's assistant commissioner, defended the initial e-mail, although she was quick to point out that Ms. Oliver wasn't responsible for the mass solicitation. Rather, a recipient at the NYPA excerpted the e-mail and forwarded it on to their members.

"The Cannes Film Festival is an opportunity to maximize the promotion and success of [the 'Made in NY'] program to a critical mass of international filmmakers for the first time," said Ms. Cho. "A public-private partnership [would have allowed the] N.Y.C. Mayor's Office of Film, Theatre and Broadcasting to more effectively meet our goals."

And the New York Production Alliance appeared excited to help.

"We're dealing with reality," said Morty Dubin, a 52-year veteran of the film industry and chairman emeritus of the NYPA. "Basically, it's a cooperative effort. The industry cannot depend purely on the city and state. It itself must help out. And that's what we're doing."

The new funding source will go toward "Made in NY's" marketing blitz on the Croisette. One proposal is to set up camp at the Variety Beach Club, which Ms. Oliver assured her potential investors was in a "prime location" at the festival. Funds would be needed to cover the cost of literature distribution and product display, press releases, press conferences, "Logo or commercial/video compilation reel shows at the Variety Beach Club during a panel discussion and cocktail party," a full-page black-and-white ad in Variety, one four-color ad in the Cannes version of Variety and items for gift bags. Oh, yeah, she added, "plus we have to consider staff and travel and accommodation."

But again, Ms. Cho wanted to caution against reading into that too much.

"The New York Production Alliance's e-mail solicitation was not for personal expenses, but to organize a delegation and a substantial presence from New York," she said.

Fear not, humble taxpayer.

True West

"The West will be looking to the East for influences, given that they don't know anything about it. It's the new untapped channel," said Hungarian-American director Nimrod Antal, whose first feature film, Kontroll, won the Youth Prize at last year's Cannes Film Festival and opened in New York City on April 1. Mr. Antal's pronouncement is quite surprising considering that his film-a gritty moral allegory that follows much-maligned ticket inspectors as they plumb the grimy depths of the Budapest subway system-owes as much to vintage Martin Scorsese as it does to any perceptible Hungarian influences. It's a film that could easily have come out of New York in the 70's.

"A film that I watched every day after high school was Taxi Driver," said the 31-year-old, speaking by phone from a midtown hotel. "So I'm sure that Martin Scorsese is a big influence." This was only Mr. Antal's third trip to New York City. "In high school, I was the kid who said, 'Are you talking to me?' I was the kid who thought he was Travis Bickle-you know, walking around in an Army jacket."

Not unexpectedly, Mr. Antal never felt at home growing up in L.A. And at 17, he did what had to be a Hollywood first-he left Hollywood to study film in Hungary. After graduation, he stayed in Budapest and cut his teeth on commercials and music videos, a booming industry riding the tide of Hungary's nascent capitalist economy. It didn't take long, however, for Mr. Antal to become disillusioned with the whole racket.

"Being [frustrated] with my own situation, just being unhappy with what I was doing at the time-that being commercials-I think a lot of that emotion was put into the movie," he said. Mr. Antal channeled his frustration into the main character of the film, Bulcsú- a forlorn ticket inspector, or "controller," who is fleeing certain success at a nondescript white-collar job in the world above. "Being unsatisfied with yourself and where you are at in life-I think a lot of young people go through that. What is success? Is it a big bank account? Or is it winning awards? It's a schizophrenic thing between quality and this pop-trash kind of stuff. I don't know."

"The New York Production Alliance, is asking each of its member organizations to help us raise $30,000 to defray the costs for Pat Swinney Kaufman (NYS Governor's Office Motion Picture and Television Development) and Katherine Oliver (NYC Mayor's Office of Film, Theatre and Broadcasting) to travel to the Cannes Film Festival to push the 'New York Incentive Package,'" the email reads.

They're asking members to pledge between $500 and $2,000.

The email also quotes Oliver saying:

"Costs here are $35k --plus we have to consider staff and travel and accomodation. Wondering if we can reach out to our NY industry ... vendors, suppliers,labor etc and see if there have interest in offering support. This is the year for us to promote the MADE IN NY incentive program...INTERNATIONALLY. We would appreciate your support and guidance."

Were this administration less unimpeachably pure, some might look askance at this kind of request from the Mayor's office.

Preceding as it did this season's Fashion Week by at least half a month, the evening's spectacle seemed a slapdash affair: several fledgling designers lumped together in a startlingly amateurish presentation by Stop the Glamour, a group that is hoping to capitalize on the T-shirts-with-witty-slogans trend (which, of course, isn't witty at all).

Redesigned-but not really-by rock 'n' roll godmother Anne Jones and Easy Spirit's Tara Subkoff, NA is already stalling, less than half a year after it opened its doors to New York's ennui-ridden nocturnals. Not one, but two whole floors of nothing much but dead, crispy banana plants, NA seems to attract neither the fashionably uptown-downtown types who can't help but frequent Bungalow 8 nor the undiscriminating spendthrifts at Marquee. It draws a nouveau pauvre kind of girl and boy, but their shoes are too conventional, the hair too symmetrical, their cheeks just not sunken enough-Murray Hill hipsters, pimply N.Y.U. juniors, second-tier art-school graduates.

They stood around, in their Bakelite earrings and mullets, drinking free Vox cranberries through coffee straws, eagerly waiting for the models to strut. NA's catwalk was lined on either side with six beige sofas, reserved for V.I.P.'s, which as far as anyone could tell were restricted to Mr. and Mrs. Oscar de la Renta, Mr. and Mrs. Alex Bolen, and Coco Brandolini-all members of Oscar de la Renta's private and professional coterie. Five labels (Tamara Pogosian, Besnik, Jessica Kaufman, Queue and Moises de la Renta) were represented by the girls loping down the runway in ill-fitting skirts and cashmere jump suits. And then, finally, came Mr. de la Renta Jr.'s "special pieces"-no doubt the most redeeming aspect of the show, but not by much: mostly T-shirts with slogans (when will it stop?!), well-tailored trousers with exposed seams (distracting) and two remarkably proportioned trench coats (confident). There was plenty of applause and whooping for the young de la Renta, the adopted 20-year-old son of the de la Renta, though he still has a long way to go.

With fairy-tale origins true to his name, Moises was rescued from a dust bin in the Dominican Republic a few days after his birth. The young infant was soon adopted by Oscar de la Renta, who has invested several decades of time and money into creating charitable institutions in the country of his birth. At 3, Moises was shipped to the United States, growing up with his father and mother in New York, and then later sent to boarding school. There are rumors that he got into some trouble, though those stories are spread by shadowy acquaintances whose intentions seem suspect. Mostly taciturn and polite, the young de la Renta is characterized by a distinct humility that may wind up hampering rather than benefiting him. Last season, one of his T-shirts was paraded down Oscar de la Renta's runway show on top of one of his father's elaborate silk skirts, but in general Mr. de la Renta père has kept out of his son's business. Whether that negligence is due to tough love or something else is hard to tell. But Moises didn't seem inclined to reflect too much on his heritage. Intentionally sending most of his coterie to the wrong party, he went to dinner at Pop Burger and remained mostly silent. Asked for a comment, Moises purred, "Call me tomorrow."

-Jessica Joffe

The Reel Ambassador

For a couple of hours on Tuesday, Jan. 18, Katherine Oliver, commissioner of the Mayor's Office of Film, Theater and Broadcasting, must have felt like a camp counselor trying to herd a rambunctious group of third-graders. The savvy 41-year-old was trying to organize a photo shoot for New York magazine featuring over 30 New York–based filmmakers heading to the Sundance Film Festival. They had gathered in the fifth-floor soundstage in City Stage, a production studio in Chelsea, to mingle with Ms. Oliver and exchange pleasantries before the Park City ratfuck, where many of them will be competing for awards and, more importantly, distribution.

As photographer Chris Callis busied himself setting up the shoot, Ms. Oliver held court, launching the latest salvo in her battle for relevance. Clad in a black turtleneck and pants, Ms. Oliver-who has spearheaded a vociferous campaign to bring film and television production back to New York City-made her way around the room kibitzing with such indie stalwarts as Hal Hartley, self-described "war horse" Rebecca Miller and Flatliner- cum-director Kevin Bacon, as well as some notable "rookies" to the film scene, such as veteran P.R. man Dan Klores, to talk up the recent tax incentives passed in Albany and to hand out "goodie bags" stuffed with "Made in NY" T-shirts.

"When you're out in Sundance, wear the T-shirts with pride," she said in a short speech. A wave of chuckles passed through the crowd-most of whom were bundled in jean jackets and sport coats to fend off the city's first serious cold wave. Much the same will greet them in Utah; the T-shirts will have to wait for Cannes.

Ms. Oliver made sure to cater to the V.I.P.'s in attendance. "I brought you your pin," Ms. Oliver said to Mr. Bacon, who was there to promote his latest project, the film Loverboy, starring his wife, Kyra Sedgwick. "Is someone with you?" she asked, looking for his handler to take the bag off his hands. It quickly disappeared.

"I've been wearing my ["Made in NY"] shirt for six months," Mr. Bacon said to The Transom, looking tired but wearing it well with a faded black shirt over a thin camouflage-print sweater, a cup of Dunkin' Donuts coffee in hand. Mr. Bacon currently stars in The Woodsman, an intimate portrayal of a pedophile recently released from prison. But the actor didn't want to talk about that; he wanted to talk about Loverboy, which he directed from a screenplay by Shakespeare-Hannah Shakespeare, that is.

"Feelings that you have for children are so extreme," Mr. Bacon said. Wait a minute-"a different kind of feeling" from those in The Woodsman, he explained. It is the love that a mother (Ms. Sedgwick) has for her child. The film, Mr. Bacon explained, explores the question of how a person deals with those feelings.

On the eve of the most important American film festival of the year, the other directors milling about were dealing with excited feelings of their own. The room bubbled with anxious chatter. Many of them would be leaving the next day for the festival, which starts on Thursday, Jan. 20.

Rebecca Miller, the director of Personal Velocity: Three Portraits, said she'd be "skating on in" to Utah. She'll be making her third trip to Sundance with the distribution for her latest film, The Ballad of Jack and Rose-about a misanthropic conservationist who starts a commune on a deserted island-already in the bag.

"It's about the war against nature-the war against the uncivilized parts of ourselves," the beautiful and leggy 42-year-old brunette said. The $3 million film was produced and will be distributed by IFC Films. But Ms. Miller warned, "It's incredibly hard [to make a film in the U.S.]. There's no support system."

Also milling about was Ira Sachs, the director of Forty Shades of Blue, a quasi-autobiographical film about a Russian woman living in Memphis with a promiscuous, aging rock 'n' roll legend. Mr. Sachs promises that the film will show a part of Rip Torn "we haven't seen in a while." (Let's hope it's not the same part that got such a workout in The Man Who Fell to Earth.) But for now, we'll just have to take Mr. Sachs' word for it: "Nobody's seen the film," he said nervously.

Mr. Klores, the P.R. maven, was there to promote himself and his documentary, Ring of Fire: The Emile Griffith Story, which he co-directed with Ron Berger, about the boxer who killed a man in the ring in March of 1962, after the other fighter had taunted him with homosexual epithets. Mr. Klores has found at least one early supporter of the documentary: Mr. Griffith. "I think he's quite pleased," he said, looking like a young Pete Hamill-well, he has a beard and some of the same old friends-in a blue sweater. The documentary is Mr. Klores' second film. His third, Viva Baseball, about the "Latinization" of the great American pastime, will air on Spike TV in September. And he'll begin shooting his fourth in February, this one about Burt Pugach, the man who blinded his then girlfriend, was jailed for the attack and then married her 14 years later, upon his release. The true story provided much fodder for late-1950's tabloids and will allow Mr. Klores to explore the "difference between obsession and love." Good luck!

Mr. Klores will face stiff competition in Park City from some other New Yorkers. Alex Gibney, a veteran documentary producer, has directed Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room. The bald, goateed filmmaker explains the company's pathology quite succinctly: "It's Gordon Gekko meets Alfred E. Newman, 'Greed is good' and 'What, me worry?'" On the opposite extreme is Murderball, the ThinkFilm documentary about quadriplegics who play full-contact rugby in " Mad Max –style" wheelchairs. The film follows the bad-ass clan from the World Championships in Sweden to the Paralympics in Athens, Greece. Co-directors Henry Alex Rubin and Dana Adam Shapiro-formerly a senior editor at Spin-eagerly explained that many of the film's subjects have "hot" girlfriends and drink like fish, and that this is not your typical sappy story about the handicapped. "Let's just say that our score features music by Ministry and Ween," they said. "If you say 'Good job,' they'll say 'Fuck you!'" Critics beware.

After an hour and a half, the scaffolding had been set up and the directors-some with nervous smiles, others with stern looks-were arranged to the photographer's liking.

"Everybody loose!" Mr. Callis yelled from behind the camera. "Sundance! New York magazine! Big picture!"

The class of 2005 laughed together.

-Jake Brooks

The Transom Also Hears …

… that there were plenty of conservatives roaming the Congress of Racial Equality's annual Martin Luther King Jr. awards dinner on Jan. 17: Fox News' Sean Hannity, Hudson Institute's Herb London, New York Civil Rights Coalition head Michael Meyers and a few members of the National Rifle Association. But missing in action was the star of the hour and the recipient of CORE's Public Service Award-Karl Rove, senior advisor to President Bush and bête noire to liberals everywhere. "He couldn't make it. He sent [Republican National Committee chairman] Ed Gillespie here to pick up the award-who was sitting here-but he had to rush back [to D.C.]," explained Roy Innis, the chairman of CORE. At least Mr. Hannity knew enough to throw some red meat to the partisan crowd, shouting, "Is everybody happy with the election results?" When guests roared in approval, he proceeded to explain why his liberal co-host, Alan Colmes, couldn't attend the function. "Right now, he's in Massachusetts, he's with Ted- hic!-Kennedy," said Mr. Hannity, adding, "Let not your heart be troubled: Alan's driving." Before rushing off to make his evening broadcast, the talkmeister lauded three men who were each "the right man in the right place at the right time in human history": Martin Luther King Jr., Roy Innis and George W. Bush ….

-Marcus Baram

It's starting to look a little ugly. Earnings are down, stocks are sinking and layoffs are on the rise. People are using the dreaded R-word with alarming frequency.

As the American economy slows, what does it portend for the world of television financial news? No development better signified the late-90's stock-market boom more than the exponential growth of business chatter on the tube. Once the domain of stuffy financiers and cobweb-covered analysts, financial news went decidedly downtown in recent years as flashy business networks stuffed the airwaves with loudmouthed, experts happy to harangue the country's growing legion of individual investors. From CNBC to CNNfn to Bloomberg and beyond, watching financial news became the country's latest pop culture fix, a phenomenon akin to Monday Morning Football .

But with a recession looming, what's going to happen to the nation's biz-news lovefest? Will people still want to fix their eyeballs on the Big Kahuna et al. as their portfolios plunge like the Lusitania ? Or is bad news just as compelling as it was to watch your tech stocks shoot through the roof in '99?

The early indications are that people are still hooked–for now. Even though it began on a massive roll, 2000 was a lousy year overall as the bottom pretty much fell out of the tech market and the nation's dot-com euphoria joined Bambi's mother. Still, the viewers were there–in record numbers, in fact. "Nasdaq had a terrible year, the Dow Jones industrial average was down, the S.&P. was down, so this was a down year–and CNBC had its best year ever," said the cable channel's spokesman, Paul Capelli.

Similar improvements were reported elsewhere. For at least this year, it seemed, viewers kept coming back to television's financial news outlets, perhaps to see how bad things were getting. "Business and financial news are quite important during booming times as well as more anxious times," said Shelby Coffey III, the president of CNNfn and CNN business news.

But 2000 was a transitional, turbulent year. What's unclear is how a major, long-term economic downturn would affect the performance of these networks. After all, most of these operations weren't around the last time the country was in a major recession. It remains to be seen whether audiences will be interested in financial news during an extended climate in which good news is in short supply and optimism is scarce.

A recession could also change the tenor of such news. The talking heads on financial news programs are, almost as a rule, enthusiastic. The wildly popular CNBC made its mark with its energetic analysts and the excitable pace of its programming, neither of which appeared out of place during a time when Amazon was trading over 100 and twentysomething executives were shooting Nerf guns from the windows of their Ferraris. But can that enthusiasm be sustained in a bear market, or will it just seem inappropriate, like a funeral director with an attack of the giggles?

Network executives naturally think these shows will continue to be relevant if things keep going south. Part of the responsibility during a downturn, they say, is to keep viewers from panicking. "We feel [viewers] will be coming to us continuously now, because they want more direction and information about how to manage their money going forward through what could be some tough times," said Katherine Oliver, Bloomberg Radio and Television's general manager.

Indeed, with audiences anxious, some executives believe that a tough market brings with it an added responsibility for financial journalists. "No one complains about misinformation when stocks are going up," said Bob Leverone, the vice president of television for CBS Marketwatch.com. "They only complain when it goes down. So the answer is that we should always be responsible, but the fact of the matter is that people don't sue brokerage firms or question the validity of news networks when everything is going up."

Mr. Leverone expects financial news outlets to change their approaches somewhat during a recession, since viewers won't be so eager just to stare at numbers on the screen. "Now, looking at numbers is a little depressing," he said. "So as a result, I think they will be interested in other kinds of stories."

But for pure audience entertainment, it will be tough to match the appeal of those gold-rush stories from '98, '99 and the early part of 2000. Today's financial news, by and large, isn't so good. Can it sustain a large enough audience–especially if viewers are losing money and, in some cases, their jobs?

"It's always exciting to tell all of the stories about how people are making money," said Ms. Oliver. "We have had all of these dot-com millionaires over the last few years and it's very, very sexy to tell the stories about the big, huge bonuses on Wall Street. But the reality is, over the last of couple of weeks, what have we been reporting on? Bradlees going out of business, Montgomery Ward going out of business. These stories are really affecting people's lives, and it's a very emotional thing."

Maybe it's the medium, but TV's financial news execs sound a tad bullish about reporting on the bears. "I don't think that it's going to diminish our viewers and people are going to say, 'The party's over' and switch off," said Ms. Oliver. "I think they really are going to be looking for more information and insight from the professionals on what to do now. Because they are going to be worried and scared."

Join the party (the wake?) this morning on the strangely addictive Squawk Box . [CNBC, 15, 7 a.m.]

Thursday, Jan. 4

For years, Dr. Laura Schlessinger–avowed champion of single-income families and teen virginity, enemy of abortion and homosexuality–has scorched AM radio listeners with her unique blend of fire and brimstone. She rates a close second to Rush. But when Paramount announced that they were giving Dr. Laura her own TV show, practically every gay- and women's-rights group went bonkers.

Despite loud protests, Dr. Laura finally made it on the air this fall. But after an afternoon slot proved unsuccessful, the show was moved to 2:05 a.m. The irony is sweet: At that witching hour, Dr. Laura must dispense her wholesome-lifestyle philosophy to an audience with a disproportionate number of boozers, drug-sniffers and Robin Byrd-watchers.

But Dr. Laura's radio show, which is on in the afternoon, would have been perfect for late-night TV. It's dirty. Just listen in on the following repartee:

Caller: "I have Herpes A and B, and I was just wondering if I should tell my boyfriend of two weeks. We've been having sex and using condoms and all, but I'm afraid I might give it to him."

Dr. Laura: "You're despicable. I can't believe you've been screwing around with some guy you've only known for a week."

In her TV purgatory, however, Dr. Laura looks medicated and sounds declawed. She chats with sleepy guests on such inane topics as whether to keep a promise, or whom to blame when a child misbehaves. She puts the latter question to a few people on the street before revealing the right answer (blame both the parent and the child, it turns out). She putters around the stage, kibitzing before a hushed studio audience. No one's a "slut." No one's even "despicable." She tries so hard not to offend that it's offensive.

By the show's end, everyone's friends. And the viewers are placidly asleep. [WCBS, 2, 2:05 a.m.]

–Ian Blecher

Friday, Jan. 5

CBS has a surprise hit on its hands with CSI: Crime Scene Investigation , which is a new drama about the people who show up after grisly murders and analyze blood stains and semen traces and creepy things like that. The unspoken little secret behind this show's success, of course, is that it's on at 9 p.m. on Friday nights, when there are a lot of–how shall we say this?– single gentlemen sitting at home who are interested in blood stains and semen traces and creepy things like that. [WCBS, 2, 9 p.m.]

Saturday, Jan. 6

Tonight's episode of Miracle Pets features two–count 'em, two!–segments featuring companion animals that helped alert their owners to fires in their homes. In another segment, a manatee nurses another manatee back to health after a boating accident. This show rocks. Stay home and hug your dog. [WPXN, 31, 8 p.m.]

Sunday, Jan. 7

This afternoon at 4:15 at the Meadowlands, the New York Football Giants try to pluck the Philadelphia Eagles in the N.F.L. playoffs. (Give the damn ball to Tiki, our man from WCBS, that's all we have to say!) That's on Fox. Later, all of America gathers to celebrate its creative community on The People's Choice Awards . [WCBS, 2, 9 p.m.]

Monday, Jan. 8

CNN superstar Greta Van Susteren, you were just so fab during that election mess that we've decided to give you your very own prime-time show–at least until we figure out what's wrong with this wacky news network and change everything again. It's called The Point with Greta Van Susteren , and it's not to be confused with The Edge with Paula Zahn , The Grind with Eric Nies or The Party Machine with Nia Peeples . [CNN, 10, 8:30 p.m.]

Tuesday, Jan. 9

Who is "The Mole"? Tonight, ABC premieres The Mole , its new entry into the reality-TV series sweepstakes. In this hammy show, a group of contestants try to complete a task and win money, but they're hassled by a saboteur ("The Mole") from the network. On other shows, "The Mole" is simply called the "executive producer." [WABC, 7, 8 p.m.]