Experience: The Cannes Film Festival
The events and
conversations that are included in this story are mostly true, but they are not
presented in the order in which they occurred. No names have been included (due
mostly to me forgetting them). This is a “choose your own adventure” story. No
matter what you decide on, you will have a realistic Cannes experience!
The alarm blares loudly. I’m too lazy to get up, but I
manage to hit the snooze button exactly at 6:40AM. I’m starting to regret
staying out the night before, as I muster up enough energy to get out of bed.
There is an 8:30AM premier that I want to get to, and the train comes at
7:12AM. I rush to the bathroom to get ready. I grab a piece of bread and
slather blueberry jam on it, and eat it as fast as I can. I get to the train
station just as the train is pulling up. I hop on the train and I’m on my
way. I head to the “Last Minute” line as
soon as I get to Cannes and proceed to wait. After the movie I head to about
three more movies. I spend majority of my day watching movies, falling asleep
in bad movies, and talking to random professionals and film buffs, as well as
catching up with other UGA students. At about 6:00PM I’m exhausted and a bit
confused as to what I want to do for the rest of the night. I have a few
options [choose what you would like to do]:
* Beg for tickets
for the night premier [continue to option
1]
* Catch a train
back to Juan [continue to option 2]
---------
Option 1: Begging for tickets
I learned early that begging for tickets was a heartbreaking
task. It was definitely a task for the shameless, and the confident. I still
somehow found myself standing in a sparkly floor length dress holding a sign
that spelled out my request. As I stand people stare, they laugh, kids point, and
people squint in an attempt to understand the sign.
“It’s une with an ‘e’” says one
guy.
“What has an ‘e’?” I briefly
entertain him, because you never know who could have a ticket.
“You have only u-n. It needs an
‘e’. Une is one. You need a place for what?” continues the man.
“There’s a premier tonight and I’m
trying to get a ticket to watch the film.” I say.
“You have a badge but no place?”
the man says genuinely puzzled.
“That’s right.” I say, hoping that
this conversation will lead to a ticket.
“Well good luck!” the man says as
he walks away.
A few other oddball characters walk up to me during the hour
and a half that I am standing with my sign. There was a guy who wanted talk
about his family from Florida, after I’d lied about being from Florida (big
mistake). There was also a guy from Poland, who genuinely didn’t understand why
I was begging for tickets. He made a point to repeatedly call me crazy for
doing it, as he walked away. At this point, I’d dedicated so much time and
didn’t really care about anything but getting a ticket.
I was convinced about an hour into it that I would not have
any luck tonight. I just happened to run into another UGA student who got an
extra ticket. I snatched the ticked and rushed to the red carpet. [continue to result 1]
---------
Option 2: Head back to the residence
I decide to head over to the American Pavilion to wait for
the next train to come. There I spot a few other UGA students sitting outside.
A group of people walk up to our table to join us. They sit without saying
anything. I’m the first to introduce myself to the group. First, I introduce
myself to two students from New York. I
find out that they are interning with companies who have films in the festival.
We talk a little about some of the best places to hang out at night in Cannes.
They reveal that there’s a popular club that’s well-known for having famous DJs
during the festival.
I eventually introduce myself to the third member that
joined our table. Turns out he attended UGA’s prestigious law school. He
excitedly asks for a picture. I was a bit skeptical to hop in a random picture
with an overzealous festival attendee who may or may not have been telling the
truth. I eventually opted to get in the picture. After talking with the UGA
Alum for a bit, he reveals that he’d worked with Adam Sandler in the past. He
was asked what his role was, and he scooted around the question.
“Oh I worked on Big Daddy.” He
responded.
“Oh really what was your role?” One
of the UGA students asked.
“I was on set. Adam mostly just
stole my beer.” The man responded.
That conversation continued like that for a bit and at some
point I’d stopped listening. After talking with a few other people for a while,
I discover that there is an American Pavilion party in about an hour and a few
people are thinking about attending. Should I stay or should I leave? [choose a result]
*Stay at the
AMPAV [continue to result 2]
*Catch the train
to Juan [continue to result 3]
---------
Result 1: The Red Carpet Experience
It’s intense. My feet are crying and I haven’t even reached
the red carpet. I stand in line and wait patiently as security checks my bag. I
see the bright lights up ahead and a plethora of unknowns rushing up the red
carpet. It’s now my turn to walk up the red carpet. A surge of excitement hits
me as I see flashing lights coming from all directions. I don’t know whether to
pose or make my way up to the theatre as fast as I can. I opt to head up
towards the stairs. I take a few quick selfies, and continue to walk. I am
immediately prompted to continue towards the theatre. I head to the theatre and
am immediately overwhelmed. I’m pointed towards the balcony seating.
It’s a small miracle that I didn’t trip going up the stairs!
They’re very steep and spaced out, meaning that I had to take very large steps
to make it up. I eventually settle on a row and shuffle past a few people who
are already seated. I make small talk with the people who are sitting next to
me. There’s a huge screen that displays the red carpet. The audience claps as
the cast and director grace the screen. The claps continue as they walk into
the theatre. The cast and and director are given the opportunity to say a few
words about the film. Each person who grabs the microphone are equally excited
to see the completed film. I watch speechlessly. This continues as I watch the
film, and every now and then I glance towards the actors. It’s kind of weird
feeling watching an actor watch themselves on screen, but it’s a cool one. In
the end I’m happy that I had the opportunity to see the premier. Will I beg for
tickets again? Maybe, maybe not.
After the main event is over I decide to head back with a
few other UGA students. We debated whether taking an Uber or taxi was the best
move. We opted to get a taxi. We all talked a bit about random things that
happened during the day, as well as what we thought about the premier. Once
back at the residence I hurriedly blog about my day and prepare to do it all
again the next day.
******
Result 2: Partying at the AMPAV
I’m instantly happy with my decision to stay for the party.
There is glow in the dark everything: grills, rings, bows, necklaces, etc. I
spot the bubbly British journalist that I’d befriended during an early premier
on one of the other days. I walk up to his group and I’m warmly greeted with
two kisses on the cheek and a “Hello darling.” I nearly locked lips with him,
because I went the wrong way, but I played it off well.
He introduces me to a few of his friends and we talk for a
while. I learned the most from his French friend. We talked about everything
from his time in Paris, to him getting out of paying for train fines. We were
joined by other UGA students, which only kept the conversation flowing
organically. Every time another UGA student joined our group, my new British
associate switched to his “American accent.” In a southern twang that only he
could pull off he’d say, “You’re from Georg-ia too?” I loved it!
I eventually made my way to the dance floor. I took off my
heels and put on my flip flops and begin dancing with a group of UGA students. Some
of the other people that are worth mentioning from the AMPAV party:
-
The balloon guy, who kept handing me balloons to
blow up.
-
My dance partner in crime: An amazing French
girl who admitted that she was there with her stepmom. She was a true trooper
as she enthusiastically danced to everything, even when the DJ played crappy
music. She only stopped briefly for a smoke break.
-
The guy that was dubbed crazy eyes by my British
friend. He wasn’t lying. Every time the guy held his lighter a little too close
to his tongue or took a shot, his eyes did seem to bulge a little.
-
The group of UGA students to who kept dancing
even when the music sucked.
-
Of course my British friend for twerking with me
during “Work” by Rihanna. He rightfully put a light-up ring on it (my finger)
after that dance!
After partying for a little, meeting an array of other
interesting industry professionals, and getting my fill on free goodies, I
decide to head back with a few other UGA students. We debated whether taking an
Uber or taxi was the best move. We opted to get a taxi. We all talked a bit
about random things that happened during the day, as well as what we thought
about the party. Once back at the residence I hurriedly blog about my day and
prepare to do it all again the next day.
******
Result 3: Back to Juan
While on the train I begin looking through one of the press
kits that I snagged during the day. I show it to the other UGA student that has
decided to ride back with me.
“Is that a restaurant menu?” asked
a guy who we’d been introduced to earlier at the station.
“No. It’s a press kit from the
festival.” I respond back.
We talk for a bit and go through our usual script of why
we’re in France. After talking for a while, we learn a lot about the
stereotypes that are probably prevalent abroad. In a matter of about ten
minutes, we had become acquainted with a guy from the UK. This guy apparently
was a PR executive turned French Army man.
He joined some kind of French army because of a dare he’d lost. His word
vomit made the train ride go by a little faster.
“I’m sorry but I didn’t think there
were black people in Georgia.” He said naively.
“There are definitely black people
in Georgia.” I responded.
“You’re from Georgia so do you own
a gun?” He asked next.
Questions like that kept coming our way. We nicely corrected
him every time his said something out of the box. Perhaps the funniest thing,
had to be his obsession with Texas. Before going to Texas he thought everyone
drove big trucks, were mean, and had big guns. Promptly after visiting Texas
he’d fallen in love with it, and vowed to move to Texas after finishing his
army term. Some of his amusing lessons that he’d learned in America included:
-
Trench coats are laughable. Especially in Boston
and New York during the winter.
-
Never light a cigarette for a woman, especially
not in L.A., because all women are independent and can light their own
cigarettes.
Once back in Juan, we started talking about the conversation
that we just had on the train. We couldn’t believe that amount of naïve people
that we had talked to in over a course of about week. I guess we were a bit
loud, because two girls excitedly stopped us.
“Are you guys American!” She asked
excitedly.
“Yeah.” I responded.
We went through our normal routine of why we were in town
and where we were from. We learned that the girl and her from were both from
America. Although the girl was from America, she had been living in France for
six years. Her friend had been studying abroad and would be spending most of
her summer in Juan. As we were exchanging contact information, we were
approached by a young suspicious looking guy.
He said something quickly in French. Our new friend responded.
“You guys don’t want drugs right?”
our new acquaintance asked.
“No,” me and the other UGA student
responded in unison.
The guy walks away, unashamed. We continued exchanging
contact information and planned to meet later that night.
We end up going to a small bar and spending a bit of time there.
We ordered a few drinks and got to know each other a little better. We later
headed to a club that was just down the street. From the outside, it looked
like a quiet restaurant. The things that gave it away was the line that seemed
to form out of nowhere, and the bouncer at the door. There was also a guy
dressed in a headdress, who seemed to be having too much fun dancing with fire.
Once inside, there was a pay window, similar to the ones that adorn skating
rinks in America. No one was willing to
pay the $15 Euro fee, so we begin to turn around. Another bouncer nodded his
head towards the first bouncer and then the window attendant, and then promptly
let us proceed without paying.
The club was indescribable. There were lots of lights,
smoke, and a lively group on the dance floor. There were tables in the center
of the floor, specifically designed for those who wanted to stand on tables to
dance. There was a semi-creepy guy on the main stage dancing. He was in his own
world, and the crowd seemed to love him.
We danced to the shockingly American-heavy DJ set, we danced
on a few tables, and we jumped around uncontrollably. A French guy even
pretended to throw money at us while we danced. It was a fun night. We ended up
leaving around 2:30AM, and the party was still going strong. We all headed our
separate ways. Once back at the residence Once back at the residence I
hurriedly blog about my day and prepare to do it all again the next day.
