Standing just behind the velvet rope, you’re painfully aware of two possibilities: either something happens, or it doesn’t. At least, that’s how I found myself last night — alongside S Magazine social editor Roxanne Soltani — as we stood outside the Royal Alexandra Theatre, waiting for the cast of The Housewife to grace the step-and-repeat.

There’s a flash of action as Luke Evans and Michael Imperioli stop for photos; we have a quick chat with director Ben Shirinian before he heads inside. Then, just as the publicists begin to herd the producers and actors off the carpet and into the theatre, Naomi Watts stops by our section.

“I’m so sorry. We’re gonna actually need to scrum a question here,” says a sympathetic publicist. Not a second later, a neighbouring journalist jumps in. “Is there anything that you hope audiences will argue about once they leave the theatre?” Watts pauses. Then she tells us that, as with any film, she hopes The Housewife will spark conversation.

The kind publicist taps Watts on the shoulder and nods in my direction, allowing one more question. It’s our chance!

I make eye contact with Naomi Watts — an incredibly put-together person — and I wonder how she does it. If it’s nerve-wracking to ask a question, then how scary is it to be the one answering? How does she get the confidence? I wonder. Is there a playlist for that? “We just wanted to know… what’s on your red carpet playlist?”

The actress perks up. “Oh! What was it…?” She turns to a friend.

“I think we’ve been listening to Robyn,” he says cheerfully.

“Oh, you were,” laughs Watts. “No, Tina Turner… which one was it?”

“‘Proud Mary.'”

“Yeah, ‘Proud Mary’ in the car! And also Squeeze,” she adds with a smile. “Do you know Squeeze?”

Do I know Squeeze? I admit that I don’t.

“It’s a British band,” she laughs. “You’re too young for it!”

And with that, Watts is whisked away for the premiere of The Housewife.