I arrived in Nice on May 13th. My friend Marie and I rented a tiny diesel Fiat and drove straight from the airport into Cannes to pick up our accreditations. I have never seen anything like the Cannes Film Festival. That huge red swath blanketing the steps up to the Lumiere and soaring above a giant Annick Durban image inspired by Antonioni’s L’Avventura of a mysterious woman eagerly peering around a door frame to the outside world. The beach and the people. Thousands of people walking past and standing in front of a single theater.
There was speculation that this festival would be a modest affair due to the economy. There was debate about the significance. ”Does Cannes Matter?” Maybe not. I didn’t care. There is too much to take in to think about such things. We picked up our badges, tried to reserve ”invitations” (tickets) to a few films through the automated system, then went for a coffee in Palais cafe. All along booth after booth of obscure studios and distributors pushing films you’ll never hear of until you notice it half way down the wall in the New Release section at Blockbuster and wonder how a ”Stallone goes to Bollywood” film actually gets made. That’s not a joke, it’s called Kambakkht Ishq. Look for it.
Disney/Pixar’s Up opened the festival, the first ever animated film to fill that slot. I didn’t get to see the film or attend the sprawling beach after party, but those who did said it was good. I would have loved to see all those tuxedoed and ball gowned guests in 3D glasses. I have seen it since and although I enjoyed it and was pleasantly entertained by the extra dimension, I didn’t feel the film measured up to Wall-E in emotional depth or storytelling. A lot more could have been done with the talking dogs too.
On opening night we went to another party on the beach and ended up at Le Baron, an all night club attached to the Hotel 314. At the bar I ran into a guy named Cade Hudson from Austin and we discovered we had some mutual friends. He invited me to Elton’s yacht party on Monday night. I assumed he meant Elton John. I though I was leaving Monday, so I regretfully declined. Marie reminded me later that I was leaving Tuesday. Good news.
Andrea Arnold, Michael Fassbender and the Fish Tank crew enjoy a standing O after the screening
The next night we say Andrea Arnold’s Fish Tank. It was great. Arnold’s first film Red Road won the Grand Jury Prize here in 2007. I haven’t seen it, but I’m going to now. Katie Jarvis, the 17 year old star of Fish Tank was the major acting discovery of the festival when the film premiered. Unfortunately, she couldn’t be there because she’d given birth just a few weeks before. Arnold discovered her arguing with her boyfriend on a train platform in London.
Fish Tank tells the story of a teenage girl coping with her lower class ennui with her single mother and younger sister. While the story in lesser hands (i.e. Hollywood) would have careened into some sensationalist tale of either statutory rape or kidnapping, Arnold treats both of the events that could have invited this treatment with appropriately measured care, allowing them to lend the proper amount of suspense and gravity to the story, but preventing them from dominating what is essentially an opportunity to glimpse into a very real but very foreign world. Variety put it well by noting the “lack of sentimentalizing or moralizing”. This is cinema.
As it was a nighttime premiere, I had to wear a tux. I was going to describe all the trouble spent on this and other unavoidable elements of the festival, but then I came across Gabriel Fleming’s spot on blog about his first experience at Cannes and realized there was no need to try and do it better. This is hilarious and very true: http://blog.gabrielfleming.com/. Like Gabriel, I thought it crucial to sport a real bow tie and were it not for the virtuosity of my lovely date Marie and a charming YouTube instruction video by some guy in South Carolina, I would have been lost.
From the top of steps at the Lumiere
The next day we saw Park Chan-Wook’s film Thirst about a priest who is turned into a vampire after volunteering to be a subject in testing for a deadly virus. Miraculously he survives the infection only to find that it returns if he does not drink human blood. I was first introduced to Chan-Wook’s unique style in Old Boy which Marie had given me as a gift when she visited the states two year ago. It was special to now be able to see this movie with her in Cannes. We met her friend Stany outside the theater before and walked with him along the red carpet and up those imposing and inviting steps. The parted sea of paparazzi stood at the ready for the stars that would follow.
After the screening I chatted with French comedian Frederic Chau outside the Lumiere. He loved the film and said it gave him a feeling of levity. I had heard people say this about art before and never really understood what it meant, but this time it made sense. The level of imagination and inventiveness at which Chan-Wook operates leaves one feeling unrestrained. Overall, my feelings about the film were mixed. Like others I felt it was too long and erratically paced without rhythm or flow. Then again, syncopated and sometimes inharmonious, like great jazz, this type of filmmaking flirts with genius.
I saw two more films before my trip was over. Lars von Trier’s Antichrist and Ken Loach’s Looking for Eric. Antichrist is a bad film. With a heavy hand, von Trier tries to teach the audience something that he assumes we want to know. When challenged by journalists, von Trier claimed he was the best director in the world and that he made this film for no one but himself, as an exercise after a two year battle with depression. You don’t say. When asked why he made the film, von Trier balked, claiming that the audience were his guests and he shouldn’t have to justify himself. Andrea Arnold supported his remarks during the Awards ceremony, adding that the audience had the choice to be good guests or bad guests.
Now, perhaps this standard auteur rhetoric, but…seriously? Okay, fine, we’re all guests at your film, but guess what? No guests, no party, and considering the current state of independent film, it might behoove the hosts to be a little more gracious. I wish von Trier had made his remarks before the screening so as potential “guests” we could have declined the invitation and he could screen this self-important piece of waste in the bathroom stall where it belongs.
One of the more encouraging announcements to come out of the festival was Bob Berney’s partnership with Bill Pohlad in forming a new, yet unnamed distribution company. I’ve had the pleasure of meeting both of these men and they represent to me what’s right about the film industry. This shows in their work. Berney is resposible for the unlikely box office successes of films like My Big Fat Greek Wedding and Pan’s Labryinth and Pohlad has been the catalyst for realizing such dynamic projects as Brokeback Mountain, Into the Wild, and Terry Malick’s upcoming release Tree of Life. Berney and Pohlad will be releasing Jane Campion’s newest Bright Star which was in competition this year.
I had to leave so I missed Tarantino’s Inglorious Basterd’s and Michael Haneke’s Palme winner The White Ribbon. Although I’d heard good things about both, all the buzz on the Croisette, literally, was about Audiard’s Grand Prix winner A Prophet. I ran into Trevor Groth and we chatted briefly while he rushed to a dinner meeting. Everyone’s talking about Prophet he told me. A glich in the computer ticketing system had prevented me from reserving tickets to it a few days earlier. The film has drawn many a comparison to Scorsese’s Goodfellas, primarily due to the main characters descent into the world of organized crime and the subsequent loss of his inner virtue. A Prophet featured another breakout performance, this time for Tahar Rahim, who plays the film’s central character. In a poll of 12 English language critics conducted by Indiewire, A Prophet was the obvious winner in several different categories.
My last night I met up with Cade and we headed out. Our first stop was an after screening party on the beach for some 
new Vodka brand that had commissioned a series of short films from various artists. When we first arrived, a group of highly animated dancers in carnivalesque costumes drew a crowd around the dance floor as they spun and circled to club music. Afterwards, Sean Lennon, who had produced one of the films, played an acoustic set with a female backup singer. It was eerie and beautiful. We met up with a couple of girls from CTV, the Canadian television Network. Cade had to bail because he was planning a party for Rob (Pattinson) the next night. It was going to be the biggest party of the festival. He a ton of work to do and was beaten up from Harvey’s (Weinstein) party the night before. He gave me instructions on how to get to Elton’s party. It was on some guy named Paul Allen’s yacht.
At Nikki
Apparently it was a 20 minute cab ride from where we were and I was thoroughly enjoying the present company, so I elected to go with the girls and Dimi, a rep from Grey Goose, to Nikki one of the big clubs further down the Croisette. On the way Dimi had a lot of questions about Lone Star. I told him Grey Goose sponsored us last year. At the club he told me that I had to visit Versailles when I got back to Paris. This was where modern French culture originated. The love for fashion, food, and art. Soon everyone left and I had a table and very large bottle of Grey Goose to myself. A couple of girls from Russia eventually came and sat down and we stayed a little longer and then left together. I lost them somewhere meandering the side streets of Cannes on my way to the train station. I waited in a coffee shop across the way until the first train at 5:30 A.M. I slept all the way back to Nice.
I could have slept for a week straight when I got back to Paris, but I didn’t. We did Paris, the museums and galleries. The food. I loved it but I wanted a second chance at Cannes. I can’t wait to go back. I’ll know exactly what to do: Stay in Cannes. Bring an extra tux and more linen. Take more naps. Relax. Enjoy the films, that red swath of steps, the beach, and the people.
