“Excuse me, you’re sitting on my wallet.” I was not
smiling five minutes after this photo was taken.

“The night we met the lady and the champ.” LEFT: Photo by Kate Upton. RIGHT: Photo by Justin Verlander.

“Talk about an inconvenient truth!” Gore and
Keadle walk the carpet for An Inconvient Sequel.

TORONTO INTERNATIONAL
FILM FESTIVAL, SEPT. 2017

SUNDANCE FILM FESTIVAL, JAN. 2017

CANNES FILM FESTIVAL, MAY 2017

Bryan D’Arcy James is a genuinely friend-
ly, Tony-nominated Broadway star and an
actor who’s appeared in everything from
Spotlight to Smash (yay, Smash!). He also
has a delightful supporting turn as “Bad
Brad” in Aaron Sorkin’s snazzy directorial
debut, Molly’s Game. That’s what brought
him to the Toronto International Film
Festival. He and I have a mutual friend
in New York, so we chatted by his seat
at the premiere and took a photo on my
phone to send to our friend. This should
have been the end of my benign Molly’s
Game premiere story. Cut to me at the

I will spare you 35 years’ worth of
baseball fanaticism details and just
say that I love my hometown Detroit
Tigers more than peanut butter loves
jelly. I hold my favorite baseball play-
ers in significantly more esteem than
an actor that can recite lines in a
movie. Actors help pay my bills; Detroit
baseball stars make me happy. But
go figure: I met star pitcher Justin
Verlander at a watering hole called
Rock & Reilly’s during Sundance in
Park City, Utah. I didn’t just happen to
be there. I received a press release in
advance that he and his supermodel

in Detroit earlier that day and told
him that his sister was going to see
him in Utah. When I blurted out my
opening line, “You met my brother
today,” he replied instantly, “Mara!” I
was shocked. Justin Verlander just pro-
nounced my name correctly. Publicists
that have worked with me for 20 years
still don’t pronounce my name cor-
rectly.
Erin and I breathlessly recapped
our Tigers love as if we were two
12-year-olds meeting Justin Bieber
circa-2010. No actor, he seemed genu-
inely amused/impressed/horrified. He
couldn’t have been nicer. Kate — even

“These are the semi-awkward, totally uncensored, unnecessarily
detailed anecdotes that I’ve been keeping inside. Don’t judge.”

— MARA REINSTEIN

concession stand (popcorn = my usual
film-fest dinner). When I went to pay, I
realized that my wallet-keychain was no
longer in my purse. Wallet and keychain.
Keys. Wallet.
The movie was now moments from
starting. I ran back into the theater in my
heels and looked frantically around my
seat. Nothing. My heart started beating
out of my chest. Oh, god, I was going to
be stuck in Canada. As a last-ditch effort
before calling my mom in sobs, I ran to
Bryan’s seat in the reserved section and
exclaimed, “Is my wallet around here?!!!”
He and his manager searched around the
area. The brown wallet was in the fold
between the velvet cushion and the back
of Bryan’s seat. It had fallen out of my
clutch when I grabbed my phone to take
the photo. I let out a hasty thank you and
ran back to my seat before anyone could
process my stupidity.

fiancée [now wife], Kate Upton, would
be in the house to speak about some
show sponsored by the Golf Channel.
I had never watched a millisecond of
the Golf Channel in my life and had no
clue what it had to do with indepen-
dent movies. I didn’t care.
My childhood friend, Erin, shares
in my Tigers obsession and goes to
Sundance every year with me. Our plan
was to pack our Tigers beanie hats in
our purses, go the party and wait for
the perfect opportunity to pounce. It
happened, thanks to a huge assist from
my friend and reporter extraordinaire
Marc Malkin, who was interviewing
them for E! He helped facilitate the
introduction — after I pleaded, “My
parents put down our dog today. You
have to make this happen!!!!” (That’s
true. RIP Sammy.)
By sheer coincidence, my brother
had met Justin at an autograph thing

prettier in person — showed us her
stunning engagement ring and told us
that wedding planning was under way.
When we pulled out our Tigers bean-
ies (“we travel with Detroit props!”),
he laughed and exclaimed, “Oh, my
god, I love it!” See the photos above?
Kate snapped the one of us with Justin.
Justin snapped the one of us with Kate.
Before leaving, I shook Justin’s hand
and wished him luck on the upcom-
ing season. I never imagined that he’d
be traded to the Houston Astros six
months later and win a world champi-
onship in another uniform. Now even
my sports-eschewing friends kinda
know who he is. For those precious
few uninterrupted minutes, I wasn’t a
movie critic or a journalist. I was just
a geek. I learned a valuable lesson that
night: Sometimes heroes can live up to
expectations. Also, never take a photo
next to a supermodel.

The former Vice President of the United
States of America: He’s just like Us! (I
can’t believe it’s taken me this long to
invoke that pun.) Al Gore headed to the
French Riviera to promote his documen-
tary An Inconvenient Sequel, a follow-up
to his Oscar-winning hit that sounded
the alarm on global warming. Since the
early 1990s, I’ve associated him with
suits and tuxes. So, it was a bit disarm-
ing to see him stroll into the Nice airport
and stand in the Delta ticket line like
any other shmo with luggage. Standing
with him: his philanthropist girlfriend,
Elizabeth Keadle. He wore an ill-fitting
button-down shirt and slacks. He didn’t
look like a former presidential candidate
a vote away from calling the shots in the
Oval Office. Good grief. He looked like
my dad.
I hope I’m not breaching a level-five
security clearance by revealing the rest
of the story. Gore — I can’t call him
Al — was also on my flight back to JFK.
Upon our arrival, I fully expected him
to be whisked off to some private exit
reserved for Madonna and former VPs.
Nope. I deplaned right behind the happy,
hand-holding couple and had to walk the
same looooooong corridor to customs.
We both had expedited Global Entry. We
both had to answer the same questions
on the kiosks and plunk down our pass-
ports. And we both had to wait for our
luggage.
Yes, friends, it was literally me, Gore,
his girlfriend and a young male handler/
assistant at the baggage carousel. That’s
it. Desperate to seize the day (and kill
the awkward silence in case he thought
I was a stalker), I started the small-talk
dance. I had seen his movie earlier in
the year at Sundance and considered
it a preachy snooze. But like any true
politican, I smoothed out the edges. “I
just have to tell you that I went to the
premiere of your movie at Sundance and
loved it!” I told him with conviction. “It’s
more important than ever!” He thanked
me in that distinctive Tennessee drawl. I
pressed on. Time to start talking like an
industry person. So, he knows I’m legit.
“Is it getting a wide release?” “I think at
the end of June, but we’ll see,” he replied.
“I hope people see it.” Well, “congratula-
tions!” Then Elizabeth gave him a peck
on the lips. Ah, poor Tipper. •

jn

December 28 • 2017

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