Massive crowd at the RocknRolla gala last night – journalists were three deep on the line as only 50 were expected by 200 showed up.

This is the kind of attention that comes with marriage to Madonna.

If you’re curious, the Toronto crowed LOVED the movie. A standing ovation. Which Guy Ritchie seemed kinda surprised about, repeating that “they (Canadians) seemed to understand our language, our sense of humour.”

Then there’s the afterparty. Photos attached.

Guy was in a cheeky mood on the carpet there – it’s hard when you’re talking to him, not to keep thinking this is the dude who eats breakfast across the table from Madonna. Who knocked her up. Who sees her in the morning. It’s trippy, non?

He’s well tailored, he’s charismatic, he kinda smolders when he’s talking to you and at the same time smirking at you too… like – hi loser reporter, I made you wait 2 hours for me at my own party, and so maybe I’ll answer a question, but just one because I have better things to do.

But not in a douchey way either. It’s quite a gift. Totally her type.

My type?

Jeremy f*cking Piven. Hate this expression but seriously…he’s the man. Soon as he walked on the carpet every other dude was like puffing his chest out all – yo Ari, let’s hang out tonight – and he just rolls with it, a sh*t eating grin on his face but also really polite and well mannered, happy to chat with the press line (briefly), in a suit that looked like it was too warm, and leather coloured skin, but a party gleam in his eyes that popped when I told him he should come down to our block party tonight and right away he was like… yeah man, let’s hit it. I like him. He’s fun. Fun is good.

Fun is not Ludacris who is always a moody prick with media – sometimes accommodating, sometimes too cool for school. Last night he was too cool for school.

Because he’s such a famous actor???

And then there’s Gerard Butler. As you know, he’s not my type. But to his credit, he was the only one who exited his ride and immediately went to the people waiting to sign autographs. Wearing a Versace suit that fit him beautifully, surprisingly no spittle gathered at the corner of his mouth, he joked with photographers and took his time down the line, had most the female reporters twittering and quivering with his big voice and his accent. Since my loins aren’t set to his frequency, soon as I got my sound bite I was outta there. Was tired.

But still, Gerry was a total pro. With a real movie star quality about him. In that respect, I guess I sort of get it. Sort of.

Photos from Splashnewsonline.com