Leery party. Dawson broods outside. Mr. Brooks hails him, commenting on the "shindig" that's going on inside. Dawson grudgingly invites him in, but Mr. Brooks says he's "not much for crowds." Dawson isn't surprised, and asks if there's something he can do for Mr. Brooks. Mr. Brooks hands him Kiss Kiss Bang Bang by Pauline Kael, whom he calls "the best film critic ever was," and I'd have to agree. Mr. Brooks adds that Kael can say it a lot better than he ever could. "Says what?" "Why," Mr. Brooks says -- why he lived for Saturdays at the Rialto, why he hopped a train for LA as soon as he could after high school, why he nearly cried the first time he set foot on a studio lot, why he did cry the first time he yelled "Action!" Then he apologizes for snapping at Dawson. I light a candle for the beginning of the end of Mr. Brooks as Mr. Brooks adds that Dawson "scratch[ed] an open wound" that hasn't healed yet. "Which is none of my business," Dawson says. Correct! But no, Mr. Brooks isn't finished, and he begins a tale of Louis B. Mayer calling him into his office in 1956 and telling him that he had a "brilliant idea" -- casting Mr. Brooks's best friend and Mr. Brooks's girlfriend in Mr. Brooks's next picture, Turn Away, My Sweet. Ohhhhhh, no. No, no, no, no, no, no, NO.