
Last month, Flatbushed.com unearthed a stunning digital time capsule. Immediately described as āhistoric,ā a ācultural reference point,ā and āthe 2004 zeitgeist in one image,ā the relic is a photo taken at the star-studded grand opening of the Atlantic Center Target. That evening, actors ChloĆ« Sevigny (in a Chanel ensemble) and Maggie Gyllenhaal (in a Lacoste polo), joined other iconic New Yorkers to celebrate Brooklynās first āmetropolitan store,ā posing in front of shopping carts and value-pack Hanes.
But what, you have to wonder, does Gyllenhaal think of the image? āWhat am I wearing on my feet?ā She asks when I show it to her on my phone. She zooms in on her black ballet flats.
Gyllenhaal is hosting a bonkers āsensory deprivationā dinner held by The Prisoner Wine company for the launch of its latest wine, āEternally Silenced,ā whose bottle is almost entirely dipped in wax. You can think of the dinner as being something like the Keanu Reaves restaurant scene in Always Be My Maybe: guests were made to wear blindfolds for the entire first hour of the meal, which included a āforagingā course of flowers and tomatoes eaten off of a tablecloth.
Attendees kept noting how much more social they felt with the zany deprivation props, but being plied with wine before food probably helped too. And when weāre finally given permission to remove the blindfolds, I find a somber Peter Sarsgaard to my left, Gyllenhaal next to him (neither had been blindfolded).
The burning question of the 2004 Atlantic Center Target opening came up in a brief exchange with Gyllenhaal, one that touched on her role in the The Deuce, her directorial debut (an adaptation of Elena Ferranteās The Lost Daughter), and sex scenes in a post-#MeToo Hollywood (she believes HBOās push for intimacy coordinators will set an industry-wide precedent).
While she recalled the Target grand-opening, Gyllenhaal seemed to have forgotten about the photo, and was shocked to hear it had become a cultural touchstone 15 years after the fact. I told her people had written entire articles about it. āWhy, why, why, why?ā she asked, mystified, and I said something about nostalgia.
As for Sarsgaard, still picking at a tiny square of garnished tofu (he says he grew up on a farm killing animals) I really had only one question: Did he know that the movie Orphan (the 2009 horror in which he played the adoptive father of a child who turns out to be a 33-year-old murderess) actually happened in real life?
āWhat?ā he said. āIt actually happened in Indiana,ā I explained, recounting recent reports that an āunsuspecting Christian coupleā had adopted āan adorable little girl only to discover she is an adult masquerading as a sociopath.ā The girl had tried to kill the parents. Sarsgaard looked disturbed, and noted to guests that the murder weapon in Orphan was CGI, so that the child-actress who played the titular character felt more comfortable.
By the time the noise-cancelling headphone portion of the deprivation came, Sarsgaard, who doesnāt drink and was surrounded by 30 blitzed new friends, looked grateful. And while I probably wouldnāt recommend a sensory-deprivation dinner to my worst enemy, I donāt regret this one; my senses may have been deprived, but in the end I learned quite a lot.