"Parties are not the place to make deals. That's the worst thing you can try and do. No one ever remembers what anyone said at parties," says Jan, the one I've been following around the European Film Market as he tries to find backers for his Pornstars project. "People at Berlinale parties are always just looking over your shoulder trying to see who else is in the room."
"It's like the Berlinale in general, isn't it?" I concur – I'm about to make a clever observation. "You always have the feeling that something better is happening somewhere else, don't you?"
"Exactly," says Jan. I'm pleased to have picked up this wisdom even though I've never been to a proper Berlinale party before.
Three hours, two beers, and four vodka-Red Bulls (they were on offer) later, in the Kreuzberg club LUX (basically a big cold barn made of corrugated iron filled with dry ice and good-looking people) where indie production firm Schiwago (which was behind Oh Boy) is having its Berlinale party, I suddenly see Jan forcing his way through the crush of good-looking actors, directors, writers, and producers, all still wearing their coats.
"Jan!" I shout suddenly, over the soundtrack to Reservoir Dogs. He turns. "Why don't I write the screenplay to Pornstars!"
"Okay, if you want to try," he shouts back.
"Okay, I will!" I shout, delirious. "I really will! I really, really will."
"Okay," he manages to say, before being swept along into the fog and darkness.
"I really will!" I shout again after him.
I'm so happy. Wow, these Berlinale parties are brilliant.