CANNES DIARY: DAY 2
CANNES – To say it rained is like saying Hitler enjoyed European travel. I’m saying that to say it rained is an understatement. I mean it rained a lot more than just saying it rained properly describes. Oh f*ck you. It rained. Cote d’azure my ass.
There were umbrella vendors doing stiff business outside the Palais, but a word to the wise, they have a special price which is 50% lower than the original and if you say ‘The Exec sent me’ you get a special 75% discount, so do it.
Still the festival authorities were abiding by the traditional idea of showing the films indoors (except for the screen on the beach, but the traditional idea there is for it to be cancelled.) Gatbsy was exactly what everyone expected. No boos, no cheers, just a deafening m’eh. Heli was the only other film I got to see, a tough Mexican drama with scenes of unflinching cruelty. Alicante is a superb director, who avoids the clichés of social realism and … what the f*ck? You see what happens when you queue next to Peter Bradshaw of the Manchester Guardian.
Last night was also party night, despite the rain and I watched Baz Luhrmann dancing. He’s surprisingly good, given his films are like watching a ‘with it’ uncle dance at your fourteenth birthday party. Tobey Maguire was walking around with a huge grin. Never has so much been earned by someone with so little talent. ‘I can’t believe,’ he said laughing to himself. Nice guy. Joel Edgerton was doing his comedy Australian accent. At least, I think it was supposed to be funny. Maybe he’s preparing for a film role.
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