Cannes Diary – One Last Day

In many ways, I feel like an imposter here, slightly embarrassed to be a “blogger” with “my own site.” So I tend to downplay as much as possible or not even mention it at all. It’s one thing to be around Hollywood types, but journalists are a whole different breed.

As I stood on the rooftop of the Palais de Stephanie waiting for the Blue Valentine roundtable, I spoke with one journalist who made reference to “freelancers” who aren’t with any major publication. And it struck me how bizarre it must seem that there are people like me here, someone working for myself and my site.

I do not consider myself a journalist and would never pretend that I am anything other than what I am. Once one’s website becomes well known enough, of course, it no longer matters. I rarely even get to “I’m a blogger” and I certainly never go to the word Oscar unless the person I’m speaking with seems receptive. Otherwise, I keep my mouth shut and try to blend in. Here is Guy blending in.

I see the well known journalists hovering around — Michael Phillips, Pete Hammond, Todd McCarthy, Roger Ebert, Kenneth Turan, Anne Thompson, Ann Hornaday, Anthony Breznican. Cannes has opened its door (out of necessity) to “online” and so we are here. Who we really are and what we really do is still largely a mystery to journalists who do not view us as equals. Times are changing fast, however, and news is evolving. There enough room for both, I figure.

Last night was a solitary experience. After seeing Xavier Beauvois‚Äôs Of Gods and Men (The Telegraph’s Liam Lacey says it’s the new contender for the Palme d’Or, giving Mike Leigh’s Another Year some competition — this was also tweeted by Cedric of ICS.org earlier), which I found slightly tedious, I went to a panel with Doug Liman at the American Pavilion moderated by USA Today’s Anthony Breznican. Liman was there to promote Fair Game (which will screen tomorrow as I fly home to Los Angeles). He talked about how he prefers to be his own DP on his films because too much time gets wasted setting up shots to perfection. This might explain the immediacy in the look of his films.

He said that Naomi Watts had been his first choice for the part and was pleased when she said yes.

The American Pavilion was so packed they had to form a line outside. If you have a pass you don’t have to pay. Without a pass it’s 10Euros. AmPav is not worth the membership fee, in my opinion. It’s free at 6pm anyway, so if you’re dying to go, there is your chance. Some journalists get the passes free, I’ve discovered, which is how it should be. And maybe later, bloggers will get them free too.

I had been trying to catch up with the Blue Valentine press tour that was going on. I’d already missed the first screening of it and the photo call. I knew there was a “blue carpet” screening that night but that means it’s with the cast, and there was just no way my yellow badge was getting me into that. And it was 10pm. That almost guaranteed a fight to stay awake.

The publicist found a compromise – I could go to the 7:30 market screening at a place called Grey 2. What was Grey 2? I had no idea. I quickly googled it and found it was one of the screening rooms in the Grey Hotel here in Cannes. Imagine that. I know I must sound like the stupidest person on God’s green earth but the fact is, I knew nothing about this festival coming into it. Zero. I didn’t know they had screening rooms in hotels.

Tucked away on the second floor are two little rooms similar to those we have in Los Angeles. Just a few rows of plush seats. This was a “private screening” so there had only been about five of us. I’d spent the early part of the afternoon camped out next to Dave Karger (Jim Rocchi gave me a dirty look when I took the last remaining spot in the Orange wifi cafe).¬† Karger told me that he was unable to speak after seeing Blue Valentine and that it had hit him really hard. For him to say that I knew it had to be something special. He doesn’t often rave like that about any movie. Guy Lodge had also said it was very good but the last few calls by Guy have been opposite mine, so I needed a second opinion.

Either way, I would have gone, but I pushed to get into the earlier screening. I used my iPhone to map my way over there, and it turns out, the hotel is on my regular route back to my B&B. Shiny tile floors, mirrored walls, large bathrooms – this was a hotel, all right, and they’d just let in a grubby blogger.

Blue Valentine did, as Dave foretold, leave me devastated. After almost two hours with these characters I felt as though I had just spent years with them. I didn’t find out until later that this film was almost a decade in the making and that the director, Derek Cianfrance, had the actors live these roles for many weeks before shooting a take. That explains why they are so richly drawn. There is never a second’s doubt that these were real people and this was their real life.

Out of Sundance, Blue Valentine had been mixed with a few bad reviews. So much so that I didn’t think it really had any Oscar heat. And when I heard it was coming to Cannes backed by the Weinstein Co. I wondered what they saw in it. After seeing the movie and hearing the story of how it was made, I am convinced it will be a strong contender this Fall.¬† There is a slight chance for Screenplay and Director, but the actors are too good to fail.

I stumbled out of the screening room with an aching heart. I didn’t want to go back to the Orange wifi room. There was only a half-hour left before they close the doors and I didn’t feel like sitting on the floor and staring at my computer. I almost went home early but decided to have a lonely pizza, thinking it would make me feel better. It did.

I’ve been what Jeff Wells calls “Europe smoking” since I’ve been here, knowing full well I am too old to smoke. But it’s hard not to smoke here since everyone lights up all of the time. I will stop Europe smoking once I board the plane for home.

The food here in Cannes is Italy-influenced. Pizza and Panini are the staples. But since people come here from all over the world you can find various sorts of cuisine, from British pubs to sushi.

Most of the time, coffee is served in a little cup with a little sugar and a spoon. Some places will give you a bigger cup for cafe au lait, but mostly it’s the little coffees. There are no Starbucks. There are no people walking around with large paper cups full of coffee-to-go. You don’t do coffee to go. You sit and drink it.

I have tried to be semi-fashionable while here. Most who come into the press areas aren’t dressed up. If you go to a gala event you have to wear a tux and an evening gown, so it is not unsusual to see fancily clad people amid the regular folks.

Overnight it had rained here in Cannes and turned the beachy weather into a damp morning, and not the warm kind either. The rain pattering on my ceiling at night had woken me up several times. I would look at my iPhone and see that it was 2am, then 4am – and each time I had to tell myself that it was okay to go back to sleep. This was the first morning I really didn’t want to jump out of bed at 6am.

The owners of our B&B are renting the room next door to a Belgian journalist. I have never seen him. But when I go in the bathroom I see evidence of a rather sloppy male figure. A razor by the sink, towels rumpled in the corner, and every time I plug in the blow dryer it whirs right up because the Belgian forgot to turn it off before he unplugged it.

I walked in the rain to see if I could get some work done. But the press area didn’t open until 9am. It was only 8. So I decided to sit in on the 8:30am screening of Poetry, a film by Korean director Lee Chang-Dong. I knew I would probably have to miss the ending as I’d agreed to go to a roundtable discussion with the Blue Valentine crew.¬† I was hoping the film would be under two hours but by 10:20am, it was still winding down its last act. I have never wanted to stay to see the end of a movie here as much as this one. But I had to leave — I had to be a walk-out. What a shame.

As I left the Lumiere (the best theater ever built), it was still windy and rainy. Cannes was not baking the hot sun like it usually does. After dodging several umbrella salesmen I found the Palais de Stephanie and made my way to the rooftop terrace. I found Guy Lodge there as he was scheduled for the same time. It was rainy and cold but oh, how lovely. After twenty minutes standing there without a single publicist around, we finally figured out we were in the wrong place. So we meandered over to the other side, and there the Blue Valentine press conference was under way.

I had wanted to get into the 12noon showing of Carlos, the five hour crime film I’d been so anxious to see I changed my flight arrangements to make sure I could be here to see it. After I’ve been here nine days I wasn’t THAT set on sitting in a five hour movie; it was hard enough to stay awake for a two hour movie. I asked the publicist if I could hurry through the Blue Valentine roundtable to get into Carlos. She did her best and let me join a group already in progress.

First it was director Derek Cianfrance. He talked about how long it took to get the film made, how long he’d been working with Michelle Williams and Ryan Gosling on it — what a story. Oddly enough, he looks like Gosling. He said, “he’s a much more handsome version of me.”¬† I will be writing up that interview a bit later so I won’t spoil it now. What I can say is that Ryan Gosling looks like a god. He is so cute you want to cry.¬†¬† He’s much cuter than he is on film and has these unusually watery blue eyes. I mean, Jesus Christ. Michelle Williams is as beautiful as she is on camera.

Pics of the “Blue Carpet” screening from JustJared

I was so mesmerized by them that I didn’t get out in time to catch the Carlos screening after all.¬† While I was disappointed, I was grateful to have these last few hours to work. I went to lunch by myself at a crepes place I discovered. Despite what I’d heard, the prices here are not that bad. Paris is much, much worse.

I was not allowed to take pictures of them, alas. I also opted out of a party by the Weinstein Co at midnight. Not only am I too old for that shit, but I also don’t know what to do with myself at parties. Some go and it’s useful to them – they are seen, they are known, they can get information and news.

Sitting on the sidewalk gave me a chance to watch the people come and go, talking of Michelangelo. And even some non-people.

It being my last day here in Cannes and in the Orange wifi cafe I checked my press box one last time.

When you are a member of the Presse here, you get a press box. Usually stuff like press kits and publicity materials are put in there daily. Most of the journalists open up their box, take the contents and immediately take them to the recycle bin. That is how it gets so full on a daily basis.

I will miss my 1032.

So here I sit, after lunch, trying to keep from falling asleep yet again, and typing up this last diary.

I leave very early tomorrow morning, around 5am. I had two choices. The shuttles all leave too late for me to catch my 7:30am flight, so I could take the train to Nice and then a cab to the airport. Or I could take a cab the whole way. Taking a cab is an extravagance. It’s around $100, the same price as that useless admission fee to the American Pavilion.

Although I haven’t completely decided yet, I’m leaning towards the cab just so that I can get out of here and not have to fuss with my heavy bags in and out of the train station, up stairs, down stairs. I think I’ll just cab it. What the hell.

Just as I’m about to leave I’m starting to feel much comfort from belonging to this place. I like walking in the front entrance, getting the security scan, taking the two escalators that bring me to the wifi room. At the same time, there comes a point when you’re done. And I’m there. I want to be on the plane and back on US soil.

Cannes is a strange but vital place to be. International cinema is growing. When you are here, you get a sense that artists all over the world are still making films because they have something to say. Artistic expression matters here more than anything else. That is why a hungry film student from NYU I met the other day fits right in. Her idealistic sensibilities and passion belong here on these busy streets where the artistic achievements are talked about more than the money. Every once in a while someone will say “it won’t make shit at the box office.” Can you think of anywhere else where the universal thinking is about quality only?

The badge hierarchy needs to be revolutionized. The people who wait for hours to get into the movies just because they want to see them – those who wander the streets holding up signs for tickets are doing so because they want to see the movies. They get to sit, if there are any seats left, all the way on the right side of the balcony. Yellow-badgers are also given only balcony seats and much of the time on the left and right sides. A higher badge shouldn’t mean a better seat.

I’ve seen so many great films since I’ve been here. It has exceeded my expectations and renewed a love for quality cinema that has dampened in the years I have been writing about the Oscars. Cannes may have no impact at all on the Oscars this year. But there is always the hope that the Academy will continue to allow international directors into the race. There is always the hope that this tribute to great filmmakers from all over the world will widen its reach.