I always love buying the Vanity Fair Hollywood issue. The moment of purchase is always very special; ditto driving home with it, or opening it up at a cafe. Then I start reading, and it’s usually pretty good (especially the 1950s or ’60s or ’70s Hollywood piece that Peter Biskind usually writes) but the pleasure meter goes down a bit. Just a bit — nothing serious. And then the magazine sits on my coffee chest for the next two or three months.

Brad Pitt: “We’re fine, man. We did good.” Bennett Miller: “Yeah, I know but…” Pitt: “But what?” Miller” “Aaah, you know.” Pitt: “No. What?” Miller: “I’m just thinking…” Pitt: “Oh, God, here we go.” Miller: “If we’d only given Billy Beane a cute dog for a pet. If we’d put him into a relationship with a big actress that exposed…I don’t know, intimacy issues or something, and included a third act Jerry Maguire emotional-confession scene in which he shows his soft underbelly, and if we’d had the Oakland A’s win the world series, people wouldn’t even be looking at The Artist now.” Pitt: “Maybe. Okay, probably.” Miller: “But we’re cool.” Pitt: “Yeahhh.” By the way, there’s a special invitational Moneyball screening at LACMA on Monday evening, sponsored by FIND.