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Party all the time…
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
The Cannes film festival is what you make of it. If you come here with a business plan, trying to buy or sell, you can do it. If you come here to see all of the films, interview famous people and write articles, you can do it. If you just want to party your brains out�that too is quite a feasible option. For me, this year was all about the work. Work, work, work. Though some people laugh at the idea of hanging out with celebrities on the Cote d’Azur and watching movies all day, and hardly consider this real work…it is in actually quite tiring.
Cannes is a vacuum of the senses�ten days of maddening exhilaration and non-stop moving. As one of my colleagues told me during a typical quick lunch the other day, “We have the strangest job in the world.� While I can fathom much more odd professions for one to have, I still concur with the general thrust of this statement. In this whirlpool of cinema it’s either sink or swim.
Last night was the night when everyone could finally blow off some steam. Though rather hesitantly at first, I gave in and was swept away in one of those nights that you don’t want to end. First off I went to the Kodak pavilion on the beach behind the Palais. My friends had invitations and I didn’t. We tried talking to the guy and the door�but no dice. I decided to walk down the Croisette to the Noga Beach where I knew my friend Michelle could get me in. I saw her at the gate and she used her French powers of persuasion to get me inside. Voila.
Though the DJ was lousy and the food was mediocre, everything was free (including the drinks.) I met up with a bunch of my friends and just as we started to dance, the party shut down on us and we were all shooed outside. Only 2 AM, which is relatively early in party terms, we decided to head back down to the SIC party at the Kodak pavilion. Michelle advanced and made her way inside while me and my new date followed directly behind. When we got to the gate, I spoke broken English and explained that we had went to the bathroom in the Palais. “D’accord,� he said, meaning “I understand.� Score. We went inside the smoke filled room and were swept up by the pounding, pounding beats of the (much better) music.
A minute later, I got a call from my friend explaining that they were stuck outside and couldn’t come in. I made my way to the door and put on my most serious facial expression. I started talking to the doorman in English, and he quickly responded, “En Francais.� So I mustered up my best French accent and let fly. I basically said that I was a film director with a film in the market and that the six people waiting outside for me were my crew. Voila. Everybody was ushered politely inside. “Merci, monsieur,� I told the doorman. Score, again.
Now with all of my friends at the party�we could dance until dawn�almost literally. We shut this party down as well and made our separate ways home. A fabulous evening that yielded much of the typical Cannes wackiness and many photographs fit for blackmailing everyone.
After a good morning’s sleep I began composing myself as best as I could…I headed back to work…shooting video and taking pictures.
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