A N.Y. Daily News story by Joe Dziemianowicz and Don Kaplan reports that Manhattan’s legendary Ziegeld theatre, which opened in 1969, is toast and will close in “a few weeks.” Fisher Brothers, the landlord, has informed lease-holder Cablevision that “they have a new tenant for the location and, therefore, we will be exiting our lease in the coming weeks to accommodate the new tenant,” Cablevision officials said in a statement. The theater is expected to re-open in the fall of ’17 as the Ziegfeld Ballroom — a high-end space for corporate events.

Eight months ago The Hollywood Reporter‘s Mattthew Belloni and Pamela McLintock reported that the Ziegfeld — the glorious cinematic temple with the greatest sub-woofer bass speakers I’ve ever heard, where I had my socks blown off while watching Close Encounters of the Third Kind and Apocalypse Now in ’77 and ’79, respectively — was on the verge of closing because Cablevision, which operates the legendary theatre, was sick of the way the Ziegfeld had been losing money hand over fist. (Around $1 million per year.)

Last night I experienced three mildly unpleasant encounters in Park City. Okay, maybe not “unpleasant” but the kind of brushes with human behavior that make you roll your eyes and count to ten. We’re living in times that “try men’s souls,” and I was reminded of this last night, you bet. 

The first happened in the delicatessen department at Fresh Farms. There were three women working the counter, two 20somethings and a smallish woman in her late 60s or early 70s. I asked the older woman if I should take a number, and she said “we don’t do numbers here” — okay. She was busy slicing chicken meat for somebody. She was packing it up when a guy about 30 (definitely an out-of-towner) came over and asked to see it. “Are the slices extra thin?” he asked, inspecting with disapproval. “I said extra thin slices…I want to almost be able to see through them.” The woman rolled her eyes as she reached for more chicken. I felt sorry for her. “Ma’am…could I buy those chicken slices? Would that help?” She seemed relieved. I didn’t want the chicken but that guy was such a dick and he’d made her life more difficult.

The second encounter happened as I was walking up Park City’s Main Street. Three guys in their late 50s or early ’60s (skiiers, I guessed, or maybe distribution sales guys) were walking in front of me at a really slow pace, and of course they had the sidewalk blocked with their pudge-bods. Walking up Main Street is a cardiovascular challenge and I always do it with a certain vigor — I’m sorry but walking like a retiree with arthritis is not an option. So as I approached the three sea lions I said “excuse me?…sorry.” They glanced back and allowed me to pass, but not without comment. Their reaction was basically “sure thing but what’s your hurry?…have you ever heard of enjoying yourself and smelling the night air and not always racing when you walk?” My silent response: “Yeah, I’ve heard of it and I even walk slowly on my own from time to time, but never on Main Street uphill and especially when three guys are doing the mall meander in front of me.”

Hollywood Elsewhere arrived at the Park City Regency last evening around 6 pm. I shuttled right down to Fresh Farms (formerly Albertson’s) for groceries, went back to the pad to unload, and then hitched a lift to Main Street for dinner with HE’s own Svetlana Cvetko and David Scott Smith. After which the trouble started. Well, not “trouble” but certainly the first disappointment of the 2016 Sundance Film Festival.

Before Tuesday night’s screening of Hail Caesar! Indiewire‘s Eric Kohn told me about a little kickoff gathering on Woodside, which I naturally assumed was happening last night (i.e., Wednesday) as the festival’s first screenings — Rachel Grady and Heidi Ewing‘s Norman Lear: Just Another Version of You and Chris Kelly‘s Other People — will happen at 5:30 and 9 pm, respectively.

On top of which Wednesday night is the only “free” social night for serious Sundance go-getters, many if not most of whom arrive on Wednesday so they can unpack, get groceries, get a good night’s sleep and hit the ground running on Thursday morning, which is what I’m doing as we speak.