Cannes 2008

Indy's back ... and so are ET and Poo

by  Grainne Harrington

Article published on the 2008-05-19 Latest update 2008-05-22 08:34 TU

Harrison Ford is mobbed by photographers
(Photo: Elisabeth Bouvet/ RFI)

This morning, Variety and The Hollywood Reporter say that Cannes is quiet this year.

Variety’s headline calls this year’s edition "A Flee Market", which is the worst pun I’ve heard all week.

These two Hollywood bibles go into overdrive for Cannes, each bringing out a full issue for every day of the festival, listing deals made and broken, and reviewing the hundreds of films being shown.

Variety blames the reduced crowd on the ridiculous prices charged in Cannes (I’m with them - I’ve been surviving on baguettes all week). Even French filmmakers seemed to have stayed away this year, and the weak dollar has kept the US crowd below normal.

If this is a quiet Cannes, I’m not sure I’d like to see a lively one. The Croisette is jammed this morning with hawkers, gawkers, posers and hangers-on.

On the way to the Palais des Festivals, I’m intrigued by a particularly weird-looking group. They’re handing out flyers, and standing around a giant sign which says "ET is looking for a producer".

A slightly twitchy chap explains to me that they are Raelians and that they want to find someone to make a film about their beliefs. I’d heard of this lot before but this was my first encounter with a real-life Raelian.

Raelians are members of a religion which teaches that Earth was discovered 25,000 years ago by aliens called the Elohim, who created humankind and all life on the planet in a special laboratory.

They spend their time trying to raise money to build a suitable building to welcome the Elohim upon their return to Earth and now they want to make a movie.

Cannes seems like as good a place as any to start. They’re probably not even the weirdest people here. I ask the twitchy man where he’s travelled from to be here.

"We’re everywhere you know, he replies, staring at me intensely.

I back away slowly and head down to the Short Film Corner underneath the Palais. It is frequented by young indie film makers from all over the world, trying to hawk movies to producers.

It’s a mix of trendy young Americans and lots of eastern Europeans, who tend to be older and very serious-looking. They have banks of computers where you can view all short films showing.

I browse the catalogue. There’s something for everyone here – one that stands out is a short from Ireland called Poo!. The film is summed up in one line: "Two is the loneliest number you’ll ever do."

I decide to give it a miss and end up watching a short by a young US director I met earlier. It’s a poker heist involving lots of swearing and guns and the actress I met last night wearing a skimpy blue jumpsuit.

Although it’s not very long, the plot loses me. I just don’t understand where the shellfish come into it.

The big draw today is Harrison Ford. Yes, Indy is back.

Sadly, it’s my last day in Cannes and I have to be at the train station before the end of the movie, so I don’t have time to join the epic queue outside the Salle Lumière.

I run for a cab, where the driver is ranting furiously about festival-goers.

"I found half a bottle of vodka in the back last night. This guy even tried to get in with a glass of wine in his hand. I tell, you, I’ll be glad when this bloody festival is over. It’s the same every year …" etc, etc.

I find it hard to feel sorry for the inhabitants of Cannes, many of whom make a fortune in the ten days of the festival. But I am sad to leave, especially since the sun has just come out again and there are so many great films left to see.

Paris is calling but it will seem dull by comparison.