by Mary W
Originally published in the August/September 2004 Currents

 

AWCH Film Critic Mary W was accredited to represent Currents magazine at the 2004 Cannes Film Festival, May 12-19. This is the highest honor achieved by the film critics for Currents! Here are some of her impressions.

Arrival: Brilliant light – the kind seldom seen in northern Germany – turned the turquoise Mediterranean luminescent as my plane, almost kissing the glistening white sands, landed in Nice. Whisked along the French Riviera to Cannes, I was embarking on my first adventure with the Festival de Cannes! To Gare Maritime (Harbor Station) for Press Accreditation. Bright lights, foreign languages, first body search. Official in just under forty-five minutes! Then to Press Office in Palais des Festivals. A bit like my first day of university, confused but excited.

Day 1: I’m in with my mustard yellow press pass (but where does it get me), lovely canvas bag and two kilos of press materials. Still not sure what I can see tomorrow but Quentin Tarantino followed me out of his press conference. Tilda Swinton looks even thinner in real life. Accosted an Australian reporter from Berlinales past and asked what did color of my pass mean. “Oh that’s a bad one; I don’t have any time!” The humiliation begins. No one in Press Office speaks intelligible English so I muddle through attacking strangers wearing mustard yellow badges. More police on streets than at Buckingham Palace. I’m exhausted and it rained!

Day 2: Up at dawn with my chauffeur Marek (tall, blond, blue-eyed!) to train station in Mandelieu-la-Napoule. No train! Just a little French post-it note (strike!). Drove to Cannes, had a croissant and café au lait outdoors, few people. Arrived Press Office at 8:30 a.m. determined to get ticket for Troy at 11:00 a.m. Teamed with Pierce Brosnan doppelgänger from Australia, and we tried to crack code on ticket computer. After two hours, lots of strangers and some cleavage, we got tickets (mine from Angelo Acerbi, Italian film commission; Pierce from two star-struck Boston legal interns). The Red Carpet! Security check, then stopped at top of stairs, looked at surrounding crowd: “This was worth it! Even paying my own way!” Badge scan, bag search, body search, starting to enjoy slight massage. Sat front/center behind film critic for The Mail on Sunday: He’s “a film critic,” not “in entertainment.” Didn’t know the difference; I do it all! Disappointing epic. Alas, same determination didn’t get me into press conference – even the French can say unequivocally “No chance!” No yellow press there! I watched Brad Pitt on wide TV. Didn’t see Ms. Australia. Consolation Provencal salad at beachfront American Pavilion, watching helicopter leave Paul Allen’s yacht. Fell asleep in next film 10 on Ten, then enjoyed Mondovino and will never buy Mondavi wine again. During this lengthy documentary about the business versus the soul of wine, an American next to me took several calls, sent SMSs, left an hour early. Now there’s someone who should learn European concept of wine and dine. Santé!

Day 3: No train – no reason! Today through a Disney-like maze to The Red Carpet. Body scan, bag check, badge scan, upper balcony. Zivot Je Cudo (Life is a Miracle): just fabulous! Ten minute jog to Mean Creek. Sun shining, cool breeze, late but allowed in – no seats, just my own on floor! Film should be called Mean Geek. Late lunch treat – canard magret at fancy beachside restaurant. Next table sat two thirtyish New Yorkers. What do guys talk about at business lunches? Choosing baby names! After next film Moolaadé, sensitive story about female circumcision, found Salon des Ambassadeurs or Press Club. Terrific view of the Golfé de la Napoule! The beach, yachts, muscled men in Speedos! Quite the elegant hangout with free coffee and croissants but given the beauty of the moment I opted for champagne! Finished evening at Cinéma de la Plage (Cinema on the Beach) with Deadlier than the Male, 1966 spy thriller favorite of Quentin Tarantino. Marek and I sat in comfortable canvas beach chairs under toasty blankets while dozens of strobe lights played off starry sky. Tarantino said was first film in which he saw S&M. How times have changed; I almost overlooked that scene. Pushed by his bodyguard, I ignored Quentin.

Day 4: Train running! Thrilled to see Lenotre, favorite French pastry place (café in KaDeWe, Berlin). Lovely hot day! Skipped Shrek 2 for documentary Tarnation from Quinzaine des Réalisateurs or Directors’ Fortnight, screened at Théatre Noga Croisette. I love this theater – I have priority! Sashayed in ahead of a hundred people. No longer at the bottom of [the] Cannes! Film left me feeling like a peeping Tammy. Next film Brodeuses from Semaine Internationale de la Critique or International Critics’ Week at Espace Miramar Théatre. People on stage but all French, no translations, except for French blah, blah…”I wanted to wish him Happy Birthday!” Whoever. Left after an hour without caring what happened to poor gorgeous pregnant girl. Lunch at Lenotre was much more fun since British couple at next table were excited to be talking to Moi (ME) – The Film Critic: the crowds, daily protests, movies, police on horseback or in vans, carnival costumes, how everyone sprouted green ears. With good wine buzz, did photo shoot. First entire conversation in French! Moi: “Bon jour Mademoiselle, Galleria Lafayette?” Mademoiselle: “Oui, Madam, bloui, bloui…un, deux, troi (pointing to the left)." “Merci!” In three blocks, found store! To celebrate my trilingual-ness, stopped by German Pavilion for glass of white wine: “Ein Weißwein bitte? (nodding to bottle).” “Oui, vin blanc.” Whatever, Monsieur!

Day 5: Sunday, so no train! At café, some folks feeding hangovers in yesterday’s clothes. No security line but directed to even more roundabout route into theater for lovely competition film Comme une Image (Look at Me) – plain girl craves famous father’s love. Finally understand scheduling, so films all day. At The Woodsman (Kevin Bacon as a pedophile) recognized Josef Wutz from Hamburg FilmFest. I knew someone! Lunched at New Monaco Restaurant, a favorite of his, new favorite of mine, with three course EUR 15 menu. Josef suggested I ask at German Pavilion for party Einladung (invitation). Deutsche Frau: “Keine Visitenkarte? Aber das is schlecht!” (No business card, oh that’s bad!). Two more films from Un Certain Regard, Non ti Muovere (rape victim Penélope Cruz falls for rapist) and Cronicas (reporter lets serial killer remain free to advance career), both not particularly noteworthy, but lots of enthusiasm for some actors in audience.

Day 6: Train running – but it’s my last day. So sad. Apple croissant breakfast. Saw Die Fetten Jahre Sind Vorbei: The Edukators (Daniel Bruehl from Good-bye, Lenin), boring revolutionaries for first hour, a bit of cleverness at the end. Everyone on their feet long before closing credits, ready to bolt to screening of Fahrenheit 9/11, latest Michael Moore film – me included! Sprinted but shut out twenty minutes before showtime by higher priority passes. Unprepared for awaiting cameras and chaos. Not to be deterred, flew to second theater, intentionally got in wrong line, but mustard yellow pass spotted: Rats! Lots of angry French press doing my complaining for me. Announced we could see the BIG SHOW ON THE RED CARPET – what to wear? Gorgeous weather, now extra time so opted for free drinks and sunshine at Press Club. Got tips from Josef on how to ambush Moore. Quentin doing interview in French, still stalking me!

At gate hour before Fahrenheit 9/11 premiere. Within fifteen minutes a hundred people behind me. Forty minutes before showtime, there I was, strutting up The Red Carpet with cameras rolling, past white-gloved guards! Mick Jagger! Watched film with Michael Moore, Harvey Weinstein and Mick Jagger! Film nothing less than explosive! Audience erupted many times, applauding, screaming and towards the end, sobbing. Moving film followed by 20 minute standing ovation. Weinstein crying like a baby. Moore misty-eyed. Fantastic finale to remarkable film festival experience.

Adrenaline high so walked all those familiar places. Salad on Med at American Pavilion. Soft chocolate ice cream cone on Croissette. Josef got me into party for Fort Lauderdale Film Festival (famous for world’s longest film fest!) at Long Beach Bistro, directly on Med. Josef left for German party – no ticket for mich. Couple a’ Scotsmen bribed their way in with several bottles of Scotch. Speaking with American wife of director of film festival, she wondered if they were really Scottish. I, The Reporter, offered to find out. Walked over to cutest one, asked if was indeed Scottish: “…well, you know there is only one way to prove it…” and he promptly exposed his bare bum! Dancing, drinking, with crowds at street level enviously peering at us partying. A red-haired well-heeled gal from St. Tropez asked if I knew festival director whom she had to meet because of her fiancée. Then she introduced me to her date, “…he directed some movie called Water and Chocolate.” Then I met very distinguished Alfonso Arau (Like Water for Chocolate)! Around midnight, with sore feet, lungs full of second-hand smoke, slightly dizzy from red wine and Bollywood dancing, I stood for a moment barefoot in the sand, enjoying the beach, the stars and that which makes the magic of Cannes. I’ll be back, Quentin!