despatches from cannes
Film festival, fruit market, sideshow alley or all these combined? Richard Sowada, Head of Film Programs at ACMI, reports from the French glamour event.
I'm writing this at just about the halfway mark of Cannes. As a first timer here, I was warned about the overwhelming nature of the event and so steeled myself to the coming onslaught of meetings, screenings and confusing chaos.
As it turns out though, there is in fact very little chaos. Hot off the plane with no clue, the event is very efficient, welcoming and surprisingly easy to navigate. At the risk of sounding like a travel guide, following your nose will pretty well get you precisely where you want to go.
Now the market (Marche du Film) is a whole other thing - and speaking with many people here, they have remarked how quiet it actually is. Still, inside the central venue - the Palais - lies a world unto itself. The sprawling space contains hundreds of film company stalls and is frequented by frenetic filmmakers and producers who, in many cases, seem to be firing their buckshot in any direction hoping a pellet will land somewhere.
There's a strange detachment involved when your business is cultural practice - my business. Not being 'a buyer' makes you some kind of being from another world. "I mean why be at a market if you're not buying? Are you some kind of weird pervert just here to squeeze the fruit?" It's sometimes almost downright hostile. But in a sense I am squeezing - but it's only the exotic fruit I'm interested in and the growers of that do understand. But I do have to say there's a lot of VERY over-ripe produce.
Walking through this market maze (I got lost in there a couple of times trying to find my way out) you can't help but know you're in some kind of strange circus sideshow with each attraction trying to grab your attention with lurid promises of seeing the Yeti, murderous mutations, bloodthirsty massacres, giant tidal waves, things from another dimension and depraved criminals. All that's missing is the bearded lady.
I've started collecting some of the more interesting marketing material for films like Army of the Dead which promises "a lost treasure, an epic adventure and an unspeakable terror". Really? Or Mexican Werewolf in Texas. There is of course Flight of the Living Dead (Is there no end to the zombie menace?), or my favourite so far, Kicking the Dog, with the tag line "twelve friends...one unforgettable summer" and the poster art being a close-up of a woman's bare derrière (as we say here in France) but with a beer keg and its tap masking anything suggestive - Porky's has turned out to be more of an unkillable beast than zombies ever were.
It's a true sideshow in the purest sense, right down to the snake-oil salesmen; sure, there is some fine produce on show, but it's always the giant zucchini that people want to see.
Then there is, of course, the main circus:
Camped outside the Palais red carpet are the photographers. Now you'd immediately think of paparazzi, but a good part of this contingent are just regular star spotters who camp and guard their stepladder space ferociously. In fact seeing the price of things in this town, I wouldn't be surprised if they had to rent the spots. On the subject of costs, I have overheard more than one filmmaker participant tell their friend they've been existing on a diet of cheese and bread.
I did have my own accidental paparazzi moment though when I was strolling down one of the narrow streets and Sean Penn walked out of a door in front of me (he looks good in a dinner suit). From nowhere I was swamped by a wave of cameras with lots of ear splitting "Sean, Sean" exclamations. For a moment I found myself caught in the frenzy, snapping my own shot. What have I become?
Later, walking out of a screening in a hotel, I noticed a group of paparazzi waiting outside. "Might as well see who they're waiting for," I thought. Seconds later a beautiful woman strode out and after a few brief moments of paparazzi madness stepped into a waiting Audi. Who was she? I never did find out, but after my Penn incident I considered myself initiated into the brotherhood and joined the photo snapping throng in any case.
There are of course the other simple observations...
I think I got scammed twice on my second day in a strange 'shell game' of change handling when I bought some lunch. I'm sure I walked away five euros lighter. I kind of enjoyed it though, so I'm going back there.
I also think the guy at the hotel is scamming me. There's something fishy with him. I don't know what or how but rest assured I'll find out. Quite aside from that, my room is located in the basement and my suitcase is bigger than the bed.
You can't help but put on an outrageous French accent here - it just comes out.
There are lots of women with very small dogs.
Many people smoke here, but it's difficult to see where they buy their cigarettes.
The Australian Film Commission has an excellent office in the heart of the activity and you hear many things here that give a good insight into the reality of people's experiences. On checking my emails, I heard two people talking about how they'd been robbed (passport, money, cards and all) - now that's hard. One person who made the trip left her primary weapon - her laptop - at home and another forgot the fundamental - his phone recharger. Ouch!
One thing that really strikes me though is the camaraderie of the Australians. In an environment where self interest is the rule, one filmmaker offered me a couch to drop on if I needed it (my room is slightly out of town). On expressing my gratitude he said, "For us here, it's all for one".
If there's anything I take from Cannes, it's that.
Published Monday, 19 May 2008
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