The Top Gun premiere party at America restaurant in 1986 was enough to make you burn your flag.
After seeing the numbingly mediocre movie that didn’t take my breath away, I went to the party, where the aviation theme was valiantly carried out via tiny flags in the hors d’oeuvres and toy planes stationed atop the floral centerpieces.
Dynasty‘s Catherine Oxenberg was brave enough to gnaw on the food, which she generously compared to tree bark.
And as I wrote at the time, “On the dance floor, Jennifer Beals was doing her own dancing for once.”
I like a theme party, but this one’s theme was creepily faux patriotic and a lot of the guests weren’t happy about their freedom of speech that had led them to RSVP.
I mean, all of us gathering to celebrate such a glitzily hollow formula film was like having a birthday party for a pinball machine, but even less personal.
Still, I tried to be a pro about it.
I finally got up the nerve to approach the petite Cruise to ask him for some quickie quotes so we could both get our jobs done.
“Where are you from again?” he asked, wrinkling his young forehead.
“The Village Voice,” I repeated.
He stared me down (or I should say up).
“I’m sorry,” said Tom. “I’m not giving any interviews tonight.”
No interviews at a publicity party? At this point in his career?
Was it my femmy looks?
Whatever the case, I immediately predicted the movie would fail big-time, and I was so wrong–but the party was definitely the flop of the year.
This was pre-Scientology, pre-Nicole, pre-Katie, and pre-lowering his voice and developing that creepy laugh, but he was already every bit the Tom Cruise and I wasn’t falling for it.