The bulk of this conversation takes place in the living room of the house where he's been living during this intense work period. (There's also a 20-bedroom mansion off the coast of Maine and a compound in Florida.) Family photographs are scattered throughout its rooms, along with antique wood furniture and Jett's toys. Through the doors of the upstairs balcony, you can see Catalina Island; through the doors of the garage you can see a Jaguar, a Mercedes and a Rolls-Royce. Travolta's just settled into an overstuffed club chair when his wife of four years, actress Kelly Preston (Twins), races in. Teetering on high heels and wearing a short black velvet dress, she whispers into her husband's ear. As she makes an extended search through his pockets, she sheepishly confesses that she's on her way to a Placido Domingo concert but just discovered she has no money: "I need $20, just in case." Finally Travolta unfolds a bill found wedged in a credit-card case. "Now that's the kind of $20 I like!" she says gleefully, tucking it in her purse and smooching him goodbye. As the door closes behind her, he throws his legs over the arm of the chair and smiles expectantly.

Do you know if your film is good or bad when you first see it?

Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't. For instance, on Pulp Fiction, I hadn't seen it until the Cannes Film Festival. Now, there I am, sitting with 2,000 other people and seeing it for the first time.

That must have been bizarre.

Very strange. The thing was, the buzz on it was extraordinary, and the rumor was that we were going to win the Palme d'Or. I mean, we didn't know it, but that was the feeling. So in that case, I almost had to see it three times before I could form my opinion of it. There's only one movie that I got to see before anyone else judged it and that I deemed funny and successful and definitely a hit, and that was Look Who's Talking.