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A Defamer operative sends us a party report from the Miami Vice premiere, where Brett Ratner held court in the men's room as a hammered Michelle Rodriguez unsuccessfully tried to talk her way inside, and the secret language of Shaq's handshake rituals was finally revealed.

It was me and about 1,000 of Hollywood's finest D-bags at the Miami Vice premiere last night.

Some observations:

—The roughly 25% of the audience bedecked in their coolest 1980s white suits, neon shirts, fedoras and chest hair all hoping to savor somethrowback action South Florida buddy-cop action. The letdown was intense when it was clear after about 1 hour and 58 minutes into the two hour flick that this was a serious (and seriously depressing) Colombian-Haitian-Feds vs. local cops—border/culture-bending lovemaking-graphically violent effort of auteur filmmaking, and not a Starksy and Hutchesque joke-a-minute-when-we're-not-banging- Miami-Beach-club- skanks-and-playfully-arresting-pimps-and cigar rollers-kind of movie.
Not one piece of stray neon, hair product or goofy Don-Johnson replica smile made it into the movie.

—Eager fauxtuer Brett Ratner standing by the sink in the men's room waiting for his +1 to finish up at the urinal. The +1 was old and stooped and a guy, but it wasnt Robert [Evans.]

— Batshit-crazy Michelle Rodriguez looking extremely hot heading for the men's room before realizing the line of 10 dudes out the door meant it was probably the wrong place for her. She was probably hammered.

— Shaq standing tall and looking sharp. To any person of color who greeted him, a hearty fist bump, smile and quasi hug/chest bump in the finest hip-hop fashion.
To any douchebag white hollywood type attempting to connect on the "I feel you man, I'm a baller too, on weekends at Spectrum or SportsClubLA AND I watch the conference finals on my 95" flat screen AND know how it feels when you're grinding it out on the court because I watch you at Staples: No smile; no hug; no chest bump. But a quick flick of the eyes and a halfhearted fist bump (points to Shaq for not completely ignoring them with the luxury afforded to anyone who's 7-feet tall).

—Emmanuelle Chriqui from Entourage....smoking hot.

—After-party was on the uneven surface of a neighboring parking lot in Westwood (always seemed like you were walking up or down an asphalt slope). "Party under the stars"="Party in a parking lot next to Dede Reese in Westwood Village". Plenty of food and drink (Mojitos for everyone!). Only major misstep were the dozen or so dancers who were dressed in shimmering metallic miniskirts and tops and goofy looking masks. They were a cross between the Gimp in Pulp Fiction and Catwoman if she was white and wearing silver.

Other sightings: Josh Duhamel, Colin Farrell ducking into the after-party, Jamie Foxx holding court at the party and a few others who I'm sure will be dutifully reported by other secret correspondents.