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We then watch Trump address a bunch of potential investors, a task he takes on with great ineptitude, expressed in the gentle, textured storytelling you would expect from this film when he puts a chart on an easel upside-down. In other news, I'm not sure if the real Donald Trump would make randomly placed references to being tall, but the movie Donald Trump does. It's very mysterious and not very sensible. Trump assures people that the city is going to turn around, and when it does, he'll be ready. After a certain amount of bumbling, we watch as an annoyed Trump finally leans down to address one guy, looking past said guy's feet up on the desk and saying, "My dad is really behind me on this, okay?" And then, back in his crappy apartment, he throws something against the wall in frustration. But it's not even a real tantrum. I have to say that so far, this movie is suffering from a total lack of awesomeness that I did not expect. Justin Louis, in the part of Trump, isn't even putting on a decent show of unbelievably bad hair. It just looks kind of shaggy and '70s. Where are the stripes? Trump walks up to the maitre d' in a dark club of some sort where, in the foreground, the previously introduced Peter Wennik is in repose. Trump announces that he is not a member of the club, at which point he is told that the club is for members only. Trump makes a lame joke involving the word "riffraff," and then he says he's there to see Wennik. Wennik sips wine meaningfully, then calls out to Trump, who says that he "can't do it alone" on his project. It briefly appears that the two will make out, but they resolve the tension when Wennik invites Trump into the club to enjoy a tasty and riffraff-free meal. Clearly, Peter and Donald become fast friends, because we immediately move to a scene of them bustling down the sidewalk, where Wennik can barely keep up with the exposition being hurled by his overeager, oh-so-Trumpalicious friend, who is explaining that the convention center is almost dead in the water on account of resistance from the bureaucrats, and that if a certain upstart by the name of Ed Koch is elected mayor (remember, time is nonlinear in this production, so this could be happening any time between about 1950 and last Tuesday ["not to step on your punchline with this, and I only know it in the first place because I happen to be reading a book right now in which Koch's candidacy figures heavily, but in case anyone cares, it's 1977" -- Sars]), they're sunk for sure. And then Trump announces that the garbage-strewn, ugly building they are now looking at is what they are there to see. It's the Commodore Hotel, and it's Trump's idea of the next big thing. Wennik is skeptical, because it's that part of the movie, but Trump insists that the great location will make it all worthwhile. Lame "oh, that wacky Trump" joking around follows.