Then, last September, he had White House political affairs director, Craig Smith, arrange a meeting between Berger, Travolta, and jazzman Chick Corea, also an avid Scientologist. According to a senior administration official, the straight-shooting Berger briefed Travolta on the administration's efforts in the same manner he would a senior senator. "Sandy was just great to us," Travolta raves.

With Clinton's backing, Travolta turned to Congress. He spent two days in D.C., meeting, greeting, and lighting up the Capitol Hill switchboard. "There were at least 300 people in the White House and the Senate who agreed with our plight and, at minimum, 100 who went 100 percent to bat for it," Travolta says. "I think a lot of it had to do with Clinton backing it up because it was for all minority religions, not just ours, which I liked." Never in the time they were together did Clinton bring up the fact that Travolta had just finished filming Primary Colors, or that the actor had adjusted his weight, hair color, and personality to match Clinton's.

Will the cinematic redemption of Bill Clinton be the end of the Primary Colors, saga? As Stephanopoulos said last summer, "Maybe the movie will make it okay for the intelligentsia to say, 'I like Clinton' out loud." Or will the story's circular pattern - in which reality becomes fiction and fiction reality - be realized instead? "If it were the wish of the people, I would run," Travolta tells me. "Short of that, I wouldn't do it. I'd have to feel like I could make a difference."

Are we talking about mayor of a small town, state senator, or president of the United States? "Let's put it this way," he says with casual authority. "I was a quarterback in high school, so I'd probably rather be president. If I'm going to take it on, I'd rather take on the whole kit and caboodle." The waiter places the check on the table. The caviar and hamburger dinner comes to $340. Travolta pats it softly and with a twinkle in his eye, says, "And you'll take care of that?"