Cannes 2008

Star dogs and a kung fu panda

by Grainne Harrington

Article published on the 2008-05-16 Latest update 2008-05-17 09:20 TU

Blindness by Brazil's Fernando Meirelles - shown yesterday and in with a chance for the Palme Dog
© Pathé Distribution

Thursday 15 May

 

Woke up this morning with the advice of a friend ringing in my ears: “Don’t drink the rosé at Cannes”, she warned “You’ll think it’s a really good idea until you wake up the next morning”.

 

Ouch. Why did I do that? Ah yes, I remember…leaving the press room of the Palais des Festivals late last night, I felt the need to see some Cannes nightlife. I called an Australian friend who’s in Cannes to sell movies with a business partner.

 

"We’re in the bar across the street, come over! We’re sitting on the terrace wearing our underwear on our heads!"…I should’ve known it would lead to pain.

 

At the bar, Scott’s in full flow (thankfully not with underwear on head): "So I come back in, and the director had actually punched this woman, and she’s screaming like hell and the cameraman’s just standing there like an idiot…"

 

His business partner, Matt, is laughing. They’re both here as distributors, trying to sell movies to TV channels and other outlets – the real business of Cannes. They look at my press badge: "A pink badge? You should be happy to be seen with us - we’re twice as important as you!"

 

We wander over to check out the red carpet for the evening screening. No star action for this one, just boring normal people.  Evening wear is de rigeur for all evening screenings in Cannes.  I’d had a minor nervous breakdown trying to find ‘evening wear’ in my wardrobe before I came but clearly some of these people have an even looser definition of it than I do. Some of the outfits are, frankly, hideous. We get bored and leave.

 

Over dinner, I’m the only one at the table not to be able to say “Johnny Depp – such a nice guy…” and the like. I just smile and gulp the rosé.

 

In the morning, I make my way down to the Croisette, to hunt out a much-needed coffee and my first rendez-vous of the day.

 

Toby Rose has been coming to Cannes for over 20 years, and organises the now famous Palme Dog award, which is happening on May 23.

 

 

A jury of American and British judges award the Palme Dog for "best canine performance in a film" every year.  It’s been running for eight years, and the lucky winning mutt gets a special trophy collar.

 

Toby’s a little sad this year, as Muttley, his dog, died just five weeks ago. He assures me that Muttley will be at the awards in spirit though.

 

There’s already competition for doggy glory this year – apparently, the dog in the opening movie for the festival, Blindness, put in a stunning performance.

 

Before I leave, I ask for Toby’s advice on getting into a good party. Here it is: the right outfit (forget it), be with a desirable invitee (not likely), go for the sympathy vote (too pathetic), look like you’re very important (hmm...). Still better than Scott’s advice though ("Go naked").

 

The big movie this morning is called Kung Fu Panda. It’s an animated film about a panda who dreams of becoming a kung-fu master.

 

It’s not in competition for the Palme d’Or, in case you’re wondering.

 

In the afternoon, the Un Certain Regard section of the festival opens. The movie they chose to open it is by award-winning British artist, Steve McQueen, and I’ve heard it might end up causing a bit of a scandal, so I head over.

 

It’s about the IRA prisoners who went on hunger-strike in the early 1980s to try and get the British government to treat them as political prisoners. Nine of them died before their demands were accepted.

 

The film is a fictionalized version of the story of the first man to die, Bobby Sands, and is simply called Hunger. The massive auditorium is packed for this first showing and the film gets a warm, if shocked, reception. No grim details of prison life are left out of the film, and the audience often gasps with horror. The man beside me covers his eyes from time to time. It’s beautifully filmed, but leaves me feeling uneasy.

 

Six pm, in the radio studios underneath the Palais. I realise I haven’t eaten all day. I feel unusual. I need some nutrition.

 

Suddenly, the chief studio booker runs past, shouting "free beer at the short film stand!", waving a bottle of beer. There’s a scramble for the door.

 

The two studio technicians make it out before me but I’m hot on their heels. Good news travels fast and the short film stand is mobbed. I push my way to the front. Matt and Scott are already at the bar, free beers in hand. I might have known. I grab one and run back to the studio. Nutrition indeed. Anything but rosé.