Check this. Though perhaps the link (hopefully) changes in what it displays by the time its clicked, right now the next 10 days in Cannes will continue the oh-so-joyful trend of grey skies and 15 euro umbrella purchasing.
I’ve yet to see a film, which should change tomorrow. But am enjoying just being surrounded the daily ups and downs of first-hand hearsay. Basically, and in slight summary: Israeli animated documentary Waltz with Bashir is fantastic, Martina Gusman is amazing in Argentine film Leonara, Blindness sucks, and Vicky Cristina Barcelona actually doesn’t, Penelope Cruz‘s performance in particular (I hope to see the film tomorrow, though hierarchies of badges will make this challenging).
I’ve continued to venture more extensively into the other side of Cannes: its varied and indescribable nightlife. Last night, as extremely tired and bagman-eyed as I was, I went to two parties: The first in honor of Alison Thompson‘s very well received The Third Wave. About 20 minutes in, Sean Penn and Bono waltzed in and found themselves a corner, where Penn’s profuse smoking commenced. We sat outside beside the window in front of where they were sitting, and frankly Sean Penn’s apparent tendencies to be very private and angry stopped me from playing mediocre-paparazzi. I did however, film his departure, which you can barely see in the following two videos:
The first one – in case you couldn’t tell by the bad quality – is of Penn standing in the boat that Im assuming takes him to some island villa. The second came right after what WOULD have been a classic papparazatounity.. Penn held hands with a male friend and skipped up and down the pier that three days ago was used for the great panda promo (a wink to Milk?). I pressed record seconds after as him, his gay and Bono all got back in the boat.
So nothing particularly candid in those regards. The second party, though sans Bono, was just as interesting. I wont say what it was for out of respect for whoever chose the venue and/or its aesthetics, but it was an extremely tacky igloo theme, with clear plastic chairs and tables and white feathers galore:
In the 20 minutes I was there, I witnessed yet another failed attempts at “Cannes Cares,” though this time was a bit more inspired than the signs for the earthquake in China. A rapper from Sudan- Emmanuel Jal, who is featured in the film War Child and as you can tell from this video, has had a rough time getting to where he is:
No disrespect to Jay or the horrors of Sudan that his story personalizes, but it seems like these contexts – where he performs in front of hundreds of overdressed, likely sloshed film folk who probably care very little about his story (unless its film sells to IFC) – it just heightens the shallowness of these events? Maybe Im being overly cynical, or over tired, but after Jay gave his initial performance, and I was in another room, I could hear his second song, titled “Vagina”:
I was listening hard for a political context, and though I couldn’t find one, I’m sure there is one?
Anyway.. despite my suggestions otherwise, I have actually attended a bunch of interesting events – mostly panels – that offer something other than “hey blog, this is what I did last night,” and hopefully the winding down of Cannes post-weekend will allow me time to post some more significant entries. But perhaps its says something about my own shallowness that instead of doing that right now, I’m going outside among a few hundred locals and tourists to gawk at Woody Allen, Scar Jo and Penelope Cruz as they walk the red carpet.